Footy Head

Australian Rules Football, or Footy, is the huge obsession in Melbourne. The city has four or five stadiums, multiple teams within the city boundaries, games every weekend. Almost every boy I talked to in the schools told me one of his goals was to get better at footy. It's a big deal. We had no idea what it was all about, but we wanted to see one. We took the train.

The field is a perfect circle, there are four tall posts at either end of the circle, the two center posts are taller than the outer posts. The spectators all wore scarves and hats with their team's colors. It felt a little like Rugby meets Quidditch meets Soccer. 

We didn't know the rules. We tried to figure out how the scoring worked. 

What we did know from the moment the teams ran out onto the field--Footy players have very attractive bodies. They wear little short-shorts with their socks pulled up--we could see their ripped legs all the way up in the general admission seats. 

Kylee and I gave names to our favorite players so we could cheer for them. Instead of saying "Yeah, 36!" we yelled, "Nice job, Diego!". Alas, despite our cheers, our team (we chose to root for them because they had the better uniforms) lost, and we could tell they were going to lose fairly soon in the game. 

After the game, we were walking in the rain, trying to find Flinders Street. I asked a couple if they could point us in the right direction and they offered to walk with us as they were going that way. Turns out, they were parents of one of the players: Jake Spencer. Kylee had her eye on him from the get-go of the game, because he stood a head taller than everyone else on the field (she likes tall guys). So we chatted with his parents for a while; they were lovely people. 

We wandered around Flinders Street until we found some chic tables set up beneath umbrellas in an alley. While Kylee and Tony ordered drinks, I went inside to look at the muffins (they looked soooo delectable, I'm still a little bummed I didn't get one). Why didn't I get one? The guy behind the counter told me, "Nah, nah, Dahlin'. Muffins are for breakfast, eh? You want cake." 

He walked me over to a cake display and flicked the case light on so I could see the four or five cakes inside. Crowded next to the case was a table of four guys who immediately chimed in about how good the cakes looked. We all talked through which cake would be best and when we decided, I told them they had to help me eat a slice. So I sat down with the four of them: Steve, Craig, Steve and Dom.

They were hilarious guys. Steve was single, Craig and Steve were married with kids, Dom said, "I've got two kids," and he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. I told them about the footy game we'd been to and they insisted we go out with them after dinner to the evening game. Kylee and I couldn't pass up a chance to have real Aussies tell us the rules, so we joined up with their group and walked to (another) stadium, just across the Yarra River. 

I had SO MUCH fun. Dom taught me the rules. Steve made fun of Dom. Everyone teased Craig because his team lost the day before. They taught me what to yell at the players in order to sound like I knew what I was talking about. Basically, you can scream "BALL!" anytime, as long as you yell it with commitment. If the ball gets knocked out of bounds, you can express your frustration that it was deliberate by screaming, "They've been doing it all day, Sir!" I was really good at that last one. Steve told me I was officially a "footy-head"--someone who's crazy for the game and their team. (My team is Carlton, bytheway).

The game was intense. We kept getting just five points ahead of the other team. A goal is worth 6 points, and a "behind" is worth 1 point. The quarters are 20 minutes each, but there's an interesting twist: while the clock stops for stopped play, the clock on the score board keeps running, so the players don't know when the buzzer will sound. Usually, with all the time stops for out of bounds, etc., the buzzer goes off when the score board clock (which is left running) reads around 34:00. 

For the final quarter, though, the clock was still running. At the end of the game, the opposing team made a goal and pulled ahead, beating us by 5 points when the clock was around 36:00. Fans started leaving the stadium, assuming it was over. They missed out on the most amazing ending. 

Because they don't know when the alarm with sound, the players are just giving it EVERYTHING they've got, just in case there's enough time to score again. And around 37:30, our team made a goal!!

We went crazy.

The opposing side started fighting back just as hard, then almost a minute later the buzzer rang--WE WON!!

I loved it. It was good, clean fun watching an exciting game of attractive men smacking into each other, jumping unbelievably high, and occasionally punching each other in the face. 

Turned out Dom was married, too (sneaky, creepy guy...). But hey, we got free cake, free drinks (water for me) and a free footy game out of the night. And the other guys were very down-to-earth and friendly in a very appropriate just-friends sort of way. They walked us back to the train station, each gave us a kiss on the cheek goodbye, and waved us off.