Just popping up a quick jumble of thoughts from a month ago. I’ve got a few ideas for this space, but unfortunately there’s a lot going on at the moment. Not back quite yet, but I’m on my way.
I attended my first AFL game a year ago.
Here’s a list of things I learned that afternoon:
Yell “deliberate” when the ball is knocked out
Time your snack breaks and toilet breaks
The oval looks a lot bigger in real life
Swearing = aggressive form of endearment
Being an umpire is a thankless gig
There’s a lot of running
Up to that point my understanding of footy was entirely based on what I learnt through seven years’ worth of state mandated primary school PE classes.
Kick.
Handball.
Run.
Pretty rudimentary.
I’ve been at the receiving end of a number of elevator pitches on the merits, joys and occasional heartbreak that chasing around a ball up and down an oval can bring. It ranges from the direct (“it’s the atmosphere”) to the storied (“my family have been season ticket holders since we were kids, it’s tradition to watch the game on Saturday nights etc.”) to those who speak of the game with a borderline reverence that I typically reserve for my morning coffee. There’s socks in team colours, memorabilia as Christmas presents, weekend trips to Melbourne, afternoon with heads in hands after a loss.
An enthusiasm passed on from generation to generation.
During warm-ups, the volume of the crowd’s cheers told me which players were clear favourites - not that I could distinguish between the rotating cast of biceps and mullets (with the occasional moustache) flashing across the screen. Admittedly, the hype music had a good bass.
Sitting with my overpriced beer, my shitty depth perception combined with my nose-bleedingly high seats made it difficult to distinguish between a goal or a behind.
I didn’t know whether to cheer when someone pretty much ascended off another player's shoulders to mark the ball.
I didn’t know whether to cheer or to wince as grown-ass men were thrown to the ground, going down head first before coming up with grass-stained knees.
I definitely winced when players tucked their mouth guards into their socks, retrieved said mouthguard after kicking a goal, and nonchalantly placed it back into their mouths.
(still waiting for an explanation on that one)
But the crowd’s roar gave me a sense of what I should be doing. It moved with its own momentum. It roared at every mark, every missed call, and every goal. The section around me provided running commentary befitting a broadcaster.
When Kennedy kicked a few unanswered, I wasn’t sure whether that was good-good or crowd roaring good. By Q3, I’d understood that it wasn’t just crowd-roaring good, it was get-up-off your-seat cursing good.
And that’s the thing- I didn't need a full understanding of the game to enjoy it.
Footy has always been another language I added to the “list of languages I feel like I ought to know but don’t” (the top of that list is Mandarin).
It always marked the conversations I felt I couldn’t participate in.
It was the pause after I was asked whether I watched the game on the weekend.
It was the polite decline whenever the annual footy tipping competition invitations were sent out.
It was the ever elusive, but persistent “banter” that marked the office.
AFL had always been branded as the quintessential “Australian” thing to me. As a kid who puked after running 200m, who harboured a healthy fear of swimming thanks to various Today Tonight headlines on shark sightings off Cott, physical exercise and in extension, AFL, was just another indicator of difference.
But perhaps it’s also very Australian to attend your first footy game as an adult. With no team affiliation and no understanding of the rules. Perhaps it’s being able to share the things you learned to yell in Q4 and repeat your outrage at the absolutely ball-busting price of beer.
Maybe, in 2021, eating kueh at the footy can be seen as Australian too.
To be clear, I’m no footy convert. I still can’t tell the difference between a legitimate tackle and a foul. I can’t tell you whether there is an offside rule or how often players have to bounce the ball.
So while I won’t be watching the AFLGF, I acknowledge the hype. I’m reminded of the great benefits it’s been able to deliver to local communities, and the leadership opportunities it’s provided for a range of students. I’m begrudgingly proud that it’s been held out West (public health debate and implications aside).
Even though it’ll probably mean Northbridge will be a mess afterwards.
Postscript: these thoughts were inspired by the discussion on Shapes and Sounds’ instagram on the 2021 AGL Grand Final. Shapes and Sounds is one of the leading voices championing the discussion of mental health within the Asian-Australian community.
I remember being swept up in AFL for a brief moment in time when our home team was in the GF. This is after years of coercion from my brother who was/is an avid AFL supporter. As a university student, I also attended a couple of hometown games with a banh mi and Maccas fries in tow. It only feels natural that eating kueh at a game would be seen as Australian.