Being Victorian and an AFL follower, that one day in September has a special meaning; no matter who the competing teams are, you make arrangements to be with friends, relatives and freeloaders at some barbecue in order to watch the battle on television, as not all of us mere humans can ever obtain a coveted, three crayfish salads, bubbly and caviar munching AFL Grand Final luncheon ticket at the ‘G’!
What a surprise when offspring Mark2 and hubby-to-be invited me to their home for a Grand Final barbeque instead of sponging at my place and the live action cinema screen. The only order for the day was: “Dad make some of that tzatziki that pulls the shirt up your bum!”
If you are familiar with the Steinbeck novel, the best laid plans Of Mice and Men do go awry.
Come Saturday morning and the weather decided not to cooperate and with the forecast for rain hail and wind, it was shaping up to be the coldest Grand Final on record.
So with the heavens about to relieve themselves on Mark2’s barbie extravaganza there was a change of plan – roast lamb, veggies and drinks inside.
Settling in at about 1.30pm I had to endure the pre-game entertainment, which was led by an array of yesteryear pop-pensioners screaming out some crap about ‘you’re-a-horse-just-try-to-understand-it’ , a cavalcade of retiring AFL almost has-beens and no sight of ‘two-can’ Brendan Fevola, greatest goal-kicker in the land.
One would think it was a circus rather than a footy game!
The most amusing part of the pre-game entertainment was Mark2’s drive through for dogs.
Dusty the husky apparently puts a paw on the patio door, which signals an order for a biscuit, it then runs around half the house, the kitchen window slides open, puts its paws on the ledge and it receives is reward in mouth then goes around and does the entire trick again!
All of the rest were barracking for a Saints win except me because I did not give a brass razoo if the Saints hadn’t won a bleeding premiership for 2000 years.
The game started in the rain and at a hard hitting pace, and it was clear there was no love lost between the Cats and Sainters with first blood drawn by Geelong, a long bomb going through for a goal.
Not long after, they were two goals in front and I was thinking the rest of my family and friends were on the loosing side. Time to grind in the taunts!
My euphoria did not last long, it was fleeting, as the Saints ended up two points up at quarter time. Suffering the heckles from the rest of the rellos I had to suffer the indignity of their butt jokes.
I still lived in hope that the Catters were going to redeem themselves. Even as a Geelong goal that scrapped the post was deemed by the goal umpire a goal instead of a point – Uproar in the house with comments about blind Freddie umpires, yellow maggots and bullcrap officials.
Not to be denied the double goal for a dubious ‘dissent’ free kick at the cusp of half-time put the Saints a goal in front.
More trivial entertainment and comments from footy experts that had no idea what they were talking about. I also had to endure the verbal barrage from my hosts, but I did not loose hope tucking into my half-time strawberries and cream. Meanwhile back in the kitchen the drive-through for doggies was dishing out the remnants of the lamb roast n’gravy – “Excuse me may I have a espresso please?”
Start of the third quarter, what commentators often refer to as the premiership quarter and what an arm wrestle it was with both sides putting their bodies on the line in a crunch and crash affair.
Suffice to say I was enthralled how both defences were playing a fantastic game of football which was tied at 58 points a piece for almost 12 minutes until the Saints once again prevailed and hit the front by 7 points just before three quarter time…..And here I was doing the argy-bargy that Geelong would have been 8 goals in front if the weather was good – Clinging on to hope of having the last laugh on the rest of my decrepit family by the end of the game (For the almost pensioners with memories, the mighty Blues came back from 47 points down to beat Collingwood by in the 1970 GF) – As a Carlton supporter I never give up HOPE!
Final quarter and everything was on the line, I couldn’t remember any Grand Final being so close all day.
It was back to the to and fro with eyes glued to the goggle box , Geelong kicking a goal in the early part of the quarter and being down by only one point as time ran out.
It looked like the Cats were going to lose another close one, until the brilliance of Ablett, the current Brownlow medalist took it out of the center and kicked it long to see Chapman best on ground and Norm Smith medalist) score a goal and put the Bellarine Peninsula boys in front.
Yes! I jumped up, did a romper stomper on the couch and displayed the two finger salute to the philistines while reiterating the verbal BS ‘I-told-you-so’ ritual and the rest sports fans is history, the 2009 premiership was Geelong’s, 12.8.80 to the St.Kilda ‘cry-babies’ 9.14.68.