Go the Cats!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's these hands that are responsible for the Geelong Football Club (I'm talking Aussie Rules y'all) love affair that plays itself out in our house each year.
As he tells it, the Handsome Australian has been a Geelong supporter since he was knee high to a grasshopper. His love of Geelong was borne out of the brain washing of a fanatical Geelong loving Uncle...and so the dynasty began. Our daughter, who is now five, has loved Geelong since she could string together the words, "Go the Cats". She adores going to the football and watching the matches on television with her Dad. This year, as our son entered the age of enlightenment (he's two) his father continued the indoctrination program that had been so successful on our oldest and, as if by magic, another Geelong supporter was born.

Our boy LOVES the CATS! Last night Geelong played in the Preliminary Final against Collingwood (for those of you who don't follow Aussie Rules, that is the last play off game before the Grand Final. The Grand Final being the equivalent of the NFL's Super Bowl). The suspense had been building all week and the little people were charged up and ready to watch the game. Would Geelong make it to their 3rd Grand Final in as many years?

Last night, the answer was a convincing YES! As Geelong schooled Collingwood on how to play Finals footy beating them 120 to 47. Unfortunately, the littlest Geelong fan in our house couldn't keep his eyes open for the game. In fact he fell asleep on the couch before the pre-game show came on. He was one tired little fella.

So we shared the good news with him this morning when he woke up, wearing the Geelong shirt that he's had on for the last three days.

Hey, hey you! Over there. Guess what happened last night?

Geelong beat Collingwood! They won!
He was speechless, but I think the squeaky noises he was making loosely translated to the following: "Oh my God!! They won!!!"
"This is too much! I can't take it. Wow. I'm overwhelmed."
"Gee, I, I just don't know what to say. I'm so proud of the boys. I just can't believe it."

"I'm so excited, I could eat my own football!! GO the CATS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Watch out St. Kilda! We've got game and we're bringing it to the MCG next week. GO THE CATS!"

A day at the footy...

What better way to immerse ourselves back into Australian culture than spending a wintry afternoon at the MCG watching a game of Australian Rules Football? The Handsome Australian's beloved Geelong Cats were playing against the Hawks from Hawthorn and he was determined to be there to watch it all happen.

We've been to the footy many times, the Handsome Australian and I, but we've never been to the footy as a family. Last season, the Handsome Australian took our daughter to her very first footy match and she's been a huge fan ever since. She loved it. It was the coldest, rainiest day of the year and she sat through the entire match. Never complained and hasn't stopped asking to return. For one reason or another, the Handsome Australian hasn't managed to take her back to a game. Geelong plays a lot of night games which we thought would be too late and too cold for her and they play a lot of games in Geelong which means we'd have to travel quite a distance to get there. This weekend though, all the stars were in alignment and it was meant to be.

As for our little fellow, he'd never been to a footy match before. Nearly 3 years old now, we decided he'd probably be able to handle a game of footy--or would at least welcome all the food bribes we'd be offering throughout the match. When we told him the news, he was excited. He kept saying, "Take me to the footy match. I want to go to the footy match." So take him we did.

Knowing that I'd require a small bit of convincing to take our two young children out into the chilly winter air and endure four hours of their antics whilst he was engrossed in the football, the Handsome Australian offered a sweetener--if we got organised, we could leave early and have lunch on Victoria Street in Richmond before the match. As much as I hate to admit it, I was easily swayed by this suggestion. I love Vietnamese food and I love eating it in Victoria Street at my favourite Vietnamese restaurant, Thanh Phong. Just the thought of their tasty spring rolls and a bowl of rice vermicelli with beef and lemongrass and I was in the car wearing Geelong colours before the Handsome Australian even put his shoes on.

Our lunch at Thanh Phong was delicious. The children love the spring rolls, the Handsome Australian digs the prawn rice paper rolls and we all love one of the vermicelli dishes. The staff are friendly and they are great with the kids and most importantly, the food comes out quickly.

Full and happy, the Handsome Australian indicated we needed to get moving and get ourselves to the MCG. Not interested in fighting the traffic that would surely be swarming the MCG at this stage, the Handsome Australian suggested we leave the car behind in Victoria Street and make our way to the stadium on the public transport. So we walked up the top of Victoria Street and caught a train at East Richmond station. Two stops later and we jumped off at Jollimont--right at the doorstep to the MCG.

The Handsome Austrlian forged ahead and queued for tickets. We got General Admission tickets which meant we didn't have assigned seats. The tickets were $20AUD each for adults and the kids were free. Even better!

Tickets in hand, we navigated our way inside the iconic stadium and decided our best bet for seating would be on the upper deck. Instead of climbing the endless flights of stairs with two little people, we found a lift and took it straight to the top. When we walked out into the seating area, it struck me just how high up we were and how immense the MCG really is. Previously, I've always sat on the lower level quite close to the field and the atmosphere has felt intimate. From the top deck though, things looked a lot different. We still had an excellent view of the field, but I spent a great deal of time worrying that the little fellow was going to somehow topple down the super steep seats. Definitely not a place for anyone who suffers from acrophobia.

The children were rife with anticipation as we watched both teams warm up on the field. The Handsome Australian was answering their questions and pointing out different players to them. Before we knew it, it was game time. Shortly after the first bounce, the little fellow curled up in my lap and fell asleep. Yes, he fell asleep. Crowd roaring, whistles blowing, buzzers ringing--none of it stopped this kid from sleeping. It was amazing.

Our girl watched the match intently and peppered her father with questions. Unfortunately, her father had brought along his pocket radio and had the earphones in one ear so he could listen to the commentary of the game. You'd think being there would be enough, but apparently you also need to listen to someone else explaining the play. Watching the game and listening to it on the radio simultaneously is pretty much the extent of the Handsome Australian's multi-tasking capabilities, so I was left to answer many a footy question from the inquisitive five year old.

"Who's that player Mommy? The one with the number 3 on his shirt?" she asks.

"Oh number 3, that's Jimmy Bartel (luckily one of the 5 players I can name). He won the Brownlow Medal once (a bit of trivia emerges from the depth of my brain surprising even me)."

"Does that mean he's a good player Mommy?"

"Yes, he's a good player. He's also really hot!"

"Hot? Is that because he's running around a lot and it makes him hot?"

"Yes, that's it. That's exactly what Mommy meant."

Ah yes, conversations like these were had throughout the match. I'm sure she learned heaps and heaps of very accurate details about the football. What can I say? I'm a true fan.

The match itself was always very close. Geelong was behind for most of the game, but found that little bit of something special in the waning minutes of the fourth quarter. With minutes left, they managed to pull even with the Hawks. For all intents and purposes, it appeared as if the game would end in a draw. Then in the dying seconds of the game, Jimmy "the Hottie" Bartel took a mark. Then the buzzer went. When you "take a mark" in Aussie rules, you are entitled to an uncontested kick of the ball which meant that Bartel had one last kick to make. He only needed to score a single point to ensure a Geelong victory. The crowd inhaled deeply and waited...Bartel kicked the ball and scored the needed point. The crowd erupted. It was so exciting. The Handsome Australian and our little girl were jumping up and down. I was jumping up and down.

Meanwhile, sleeping beauty who'd been awake all of 5 minutes was looking at us like, "What's the fuss all about? How come everyone is screaming and most importantly, where's my apple juice?" Yes, I think the thrill of the game was lost on the little fellow. Maybe next year he'll get more out of it. I'm certainly keen to go again...as long as there are spring rolls involved that is!

Observations from the Footy

As you may or may not have read yesterday, the Handsome Australian and I went to the Footy on Friday night . Here are my promised footy observations:

1. When the ball goes out of bounds and lands somewhere amongst the crowd, the people in the crowd throw the ball back in so the players can keep playing. Never once have I seen anyone taking a "souvenir" ball. It simply isn't done. The ball is tossed back to the umpire or nearest player and the play resumes. End of story. I'm a fan of this tradition. Apparently the same is true for Cricket where the condition of the ball (ie newness or being worn out, etc) has a huge effect on the game.

2. The Footy fans are VERY VOCAL. I'll admit, I've never attended an NFL game in the USA, but I have been to my fair share of NBA games and I never heard the kind of taunts and tirades that were being shouted out at top volumes on Friday night. It was actually really humorous to listen to.

3. Access to alcoholic beverages is limited and what type of drink you can get varies depending on where you are sitting. This is going to sound totally odd, but there is a section within the MCG called the MCC (Melbourne Cricket Club) which is a members only section. If you are a member or a guest of a member, you can sit in this section, but you aren't allowed to consume alcohol in your seat while watching the game. There are bars on each level of the MCC where you must go inside and order your drink and consume it there. This means these bars are lonely places during the game time and become overrun with beer guzzling fans during quatertime and halftime breaks. It was incredible the way the crowd would rush the place during the breaks. (I know because Brother number four got us good seats in this section--have I mentioned how much we like Brother number four?)

In other areas of the MCG where the general public can sit, you can purchase beer at a concession stand and consume it at your seat. The trick here is the beer isn't full strength meaning the alcohol content is about half that of a proper beer (or half the strength of the ones the people in the MCC area are drinking in their bars).

4. Every man sitting around us had a small radio in his hand and the earpiece in his ear to listen to the coverage of the game on the radio. As if being there in the flesh wasn't enough. I asked the Handsome Australian about this one, but he couldn't hear me over the sound of the radio commentator in his ear.

5. About a quarter of the way through the game, a flock of seagulls took to the field and just hung around for the duration of the match. This is not uncommon as I've seen it at other footy matches, but on Friday night I just thought how annoying it must be to the players to have all these birds flying around on the field. Not to mention how frustrating it was a spectator to try and figure out where the ball was among the birds. (I mentioned this observation to the Handsome Australian, and so deep was his concentration on the game, it took him until halftime to respond at which point he said, "What birds?" So apparently they don't distract everyone.)

6. I should come to the footy more often, there is some serious eye candy on the field. I mean, serious football talent. That's what I meant. Really.

Overall, it was a good night and a good win for Geelong. Now if they can win the Grand Final this coming weekend, the Handsome Australian will be as happy as Larry.

Learn the Lingo
Happy as Larry = really happy, satisfied, content

A night out

As parents of two small children, it isn't too often that the Handsome Australian and I get the chance to have a night out on the town--just the two of us. We love a night out as much as the next person, but it isn't always easy to organise baby sitters, etc. This weekend, however, we were lucky enough to have one of the grandparents volunteer to tame the beasts while we enjoyed a night out on our own.

When you don't get to go out as often as you did in your life before your gorgeous children came along, you really like to make the most of the nights you do get. So that usually means dinner and drinks somewhere followed by some kind of event--the movies, a play, a party--anything really, just take me out.

And out we went on Friday night. There wasn't much conversation around where we should go because on this Friday night in September in Melbourne, there was really only one place to be, well as far as the Handsome Australian is concerned that is, and that place was....wait for it...the MCG.

Yes, the MCG or the Melbourne Cricket Ground or just "The G" as we Melbournians like to call it. (Wait, did I just say, "we melbournians"? I did didn't I? Crickey...the conversion is nearly complete) Why the G? It's not Cricket season yet is it? No, it's not Cricket season, it's actually the end of the footy season (and when I say footy here I'm referring to Aussie Rules Football) and the town is abuzz with Finals Fever. Anyone who is anybody in Melbourne would have been at the game on Friday night to watch the Handsome Australian's beloved Geelong take on the scrappy but formidable Western Bulldogs. (Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating the importance of this game, but I'm merely taking my cues from the Handsome Australian who assured me numerous times that this was indeed "the place" to be on Friday night. If I can't trust him, who can I trust?? I mean he's never led me astray, never tried to tell me stories about drop bears or anything misleading and down right untrue like that. He's my guide to all things Aussie and I have to take his word on it when he explains the cultural relevance of these events.)

The Handsome Australian being Anybody and me being Anyone meant it was our duty to be at the game on Friday night. The tickets were not easy to come by. This game was the equivalent of a semi-final match although it isn't referred to in those terms--the Aussies call it a preliminary final. (Thinking about the terminology now, it's one of the few times I can recall the Aussies using a longer phrase to describe something than we Americans do--we'd probably call it a semifinal and be done with it. Hmm...interesting.) So it was up to the Handsome Australian to use his extensive network of connected people to try and wrangle a couple of tickets for us to go to "one of the most important games of the year" (can you guess who I'm quoting there?? A certain Australian with handsome tendencies perhaps?). So he put the feelers out early in the week to see who might be able to get us some tickets. He didn't have to feel very far because the Handsome Australian is related to three other Handsome Australians--ie his brothers. All of these boys are cut from the same footy loving cloth and they were on top of the ticket hunt already. Brother number four came up with the goods in 10 minutes. That kid's amazing. He knows EVERYONE (and this time I'm not exaggerating).

So once the tickets and babysitter were sorted, we were good to go. We met amazing Brother number four and his girlfriend for dinner at a nice little place in Federation Square in the city. Now for most Melbournians, "Fed Square" as we call it (there I go saying we again) is a love it or hate it kind of place. It's a relatively new addition to the cityscape and was received with mixed reviews. For the record, I'd like it noted here that I love it. Thanks very much.

But I digress, we had a lovely dinner in Federation Square and then took the leisurely walk down the Yarra to the gates of the MCG. If you haven't figured it out yet, the MCG is a giant stadium that sits on the banks of the Yarra river on the city's edge. It seats 100,000 people and is one of Australia's most iconic sporting venues. On Friday night, it was bustling with footy fans decked out in their team colours and ready to bear witness to history in the making--after all, one team would go on to the Grand Final (think Superbowl) and the other team would slink off quietly into the night knowing they had come that close to tasting glory but just couldn't go all the way.

While I'm not really a Geelong fan, I was hoping against hope that they would win the game and go on to the Grand Final--it would certainly make my week a lot easier. A win for Geelong equals a Happy Handsome Australian and a Happy Handsome Australian equals a Happy Me. Luckily, Geelong had game and they came to play. They've won 22 matches this season out of 23 and they are favourites to win the Grand Final. So I didn't need to stress too much about a Geelong win. Being so relaxed, I was able to make a few observations about the crowd that I might not have if I was engaged in a nail biting contest of footy (because I can't go past a nail biting contest of footy. No sir. When it's close, I just have to watch and watch. I can't turn away. Okay, so maybe the exaggeration is running rife through this post...). For what it's worth, here's what I observed:

Uh-oh, cliff hanger time! Stay tuned tomorrow for my keen footy observations!!

Another thing about the footy...

I really don't watch that much footy (that's Aussie for football, in this case Aussie Rules Football). Honestly, I don't. I am forced to see a bit of it each week when the Handsome Australian sits perched on the edge of the couch biting his lip and shouting indecipherable phrases at the TV while his beloved Geelong battle their latest opponent. I usually pass through the room from time to time and check the score line to see what kind of mood I can expect the Handsome one to be in following the game. If the game is close, I may sit and watch a few minutes of it. It is actually a fun game to watch if you enjoy sports. It's very fast paced and there are a lot of players on the field at one time, so it can be difficult to keep up with. I do admit I like the momentum and I like the way the game can change very quickly.

The part of the footy that I'm NOT a fan of is the biffo and argy bargy that goes on during the game. (The what? Biffo = hits or fighting not related to play and argy bargy is, in this case, the trash talk between players). Apparently in the 1970s and 1980s this kind of rough play was standard. It seems like people really enjoyed watching this style of play and the rougher the players were with each other, the better. This is what I've gleaned, anyway, from the wealth of information I get from my forced viewing of each week's Footy Show (a prime time show that attempts to present the week's footy news, upcoming games, etc in an entertaining manner. I'd say their success at achieving these goals is mixed, but that doesn't keep the Handsome Australian, and hence the rest of us, from tuning in each week).

The AFL (that's Australian Football League) seems to have clamped down on this sort of behaviour in recent years and made an effort to get players to clean up their act a bit. For those of you who know little about Aussie Rules football, there is no "sin bin" where players who misbehave can be sent to during a game. If a player makes some sort of illegal play during a game, they may be penalised by having a free kick awarded to the opposing team. If a player gets involved in a bit of biffo or injures another player intentionally, there is no immediate action taken against that player. In the AFL, the players who misbehave during a game can be reported by the Umpires and have their infractions sent to the AFL Tribunal.

I find the Tribunal to be one of the many unique aspects of the AFL. Players who are reported during one of the weekend's games are forced to appear before the Tribunal (which is composed of a panel of lawyers and individuals with a knowledge of the rules of Aussie Rules) and plead their case. Video evidence from the game as well as statements from Umpires and other players may be used to make the case against the offending player. The offending player can provide character statements from coaches and fellow players and offer up his version of events as a defense. It sounds very formal, and in some ways it is, but it's not as formal as actual court proceedings would be. After the Tribunal hearing, a decision will be handed down by the panel and the player will find out what the consequences of his actions are. In some cases there will be monetary fines and in most cases, the player will be suspended for a period determined appropriate by the panel.

What got me thinking about all of this today is an event that happened during last week's Geelong game where one of the players, Cameron Ling, was struck in the jaw by a member of the opposing team, Dean Solomon, for no apparent reason. You can watch the vision of the incident here:



Completely unnecessary and uncalled for violence on the field. Doctor's think Ling's injury, a depressed cheek bone fracture requiring the insertion of a titanium plate and screws to hold the bone in place, will keep him off the footy field for about four weeks. This is a very crucial part of the season and may effect his team's ability to make the finals. So beyond the obvious physical ramifications for Ling, there are also the ramifications his injuries will have on his team. All of this because one guy lost his temper. Shame, shame, shame.

I'm happy to say the AFL Tribunal made me proud this week by handing down an EIGHT week suspension to Solomon that will see him out of the game for the rest of the season as well as the first game of next season. In my opinion he deserved at least that. It's the toughest penalty handed down by the Tribunal in the last 11 years--and fair enough too.

A sport with that much action, so much biffo and a justice system to sort it all out at the end of the day...yes, they do things differently Down Under.

Learn the Lingo
footy = football
biffo = hitting, fighting in footy
argy bargy = trash talk or a heated discussion
AFL = Australian Football League

Footy Tipping

One lovely March afternoon, I walked into a meeting at work and saw one of my colleagues busily collecting money from everyone else sitting at the table. When he saw me he said, "Are you interested in signing up for the footy tipping this year?" This was my first proper job in Australia and I'd only been there since January so I'd never heard of this whole footy tipping thing. So as per my usual, I had to quickly confess my ignorance. You get used to that after awhile. Nothing like living in a foreign country to make you feel like a dumbass 80% of the time.

Me: "Sorry, I'm not familiar with footy tipping? Can someone enlighten me?"

Work Colleague: With a great deal of enthusiasm, "Oh yeah, no worries. Footy tipping is just a betting competition we run for the footy. Everyone puts in $22 and then each week you submit your tips. We'll have jackpots for each round and there will be prizes for the people that finish the top of the ladder at the end of the season."

Me: This sounds a bit complicated and I don't know anything about the footy. "What are tips exactly?"

WC: Chuckling slightly, "Oh the tips are just who you think will win each game. Surely you guys bet on the football in America?"

Me: Yeah I remember being in an illegal football pool in high school and getting busted by our Geometry teacher, but that was a long time ago, and I'm reformed now. Which is actually a good point, is this even legal? (a legitimate concern for someone on a temporary visa)"Yeah people do bet on the football. We call it a pool. I can't remember ever participating in one at work though. Isn't this organised gambling really? I guess what I'm trying to say is what does the boss think of this?"

WC: Smiling and shaking his head at the same time. "You Yanks really are a funny bunch aren't you? I guess it is organised gambling in a way, but everyone here participates. The boss asked me to organise it. We do it every year. So are you in or what?"

Me: "Won't I be disadvantaged because I know nothing about the footy?"

WC: "Not necessarily. It depends on the season really. Sometimes there are a lot of upsets and no one is very good a predicting them so it might actually be to your advantage."

Me: Feeling slightly obliged to participate in this ritual if for no other reason than the sheer sake of fitting in. "Ok, you've sold me. I'm in."

And that was the beginning of my foray into the world of footy tipping. I started off the season quite well. There are eight matches played each week and if you successfully picked all eight winners correctly, you get paid out a certain amount depending on how many people also picked the eight and how long it had been since someone last picked eight. I know, I know it's all so confusing.

I did manage to get all eight right during one of the rounds in the middle of the season, but unfortunately, so did a few of my other colleagues so we had to split the jackpot--I think we each got about $5 back or something.

By the time the end of the season rolled around, I was doing really poorly and usually only picking one or two winners a week. I didn't care though because I was having fun. The footy tipping was always the talk of the office on Friday afternoons as everyone was submitting their picks for that weekend's games. Then on Monday morning everyone would check to see how they'd gone in comparison to everyone else.

In America I remember lots of my male friends being in football pools or Super Bowl pools, etc with their mates--ie other guys. I don't, however, remember knowing a lot of women that were getting together and betting on sports. In Australia though, men and women alike were equally engaged in the footy. The women in my workplace took their footy tipping very seriously. Their love for footy went beyond the footy tipping competition though, a lot of these women were die hard fans of particular teams. They attended the matches on a regular basis. I was amazed.

As for the gambling side of things...no one here seemed to care. The Australians, from what I could glean, were a lot more relaxed about this sort of thing--especially in the work place. The more people I talked to, the more I realised that everyone was in a footy tipping comp whether they followed the footy or not, and almost everyone did their footy tipping through work.

I got used to the idea that people at work were almost universally involved in the footy tipping, but the one that really shocked me was when I found out the Handsome Australian's brother was involved in a school sanctioned footy tipping competition. He was in high school at the time (at a Catholic School I might add) and each kid was allowed to put in $5 and participate. They would have winners for each round and a jackpot at the end as well. I was astounded by this. I asked the Handsome Australian about it and he didn't see what all the fuss was. They are just kids having a good time like the rest of us. No one seemed to be bothered besides me.

Eight years later, I still think it's a strange thing for kids in schools to be doing, but if there is one thing I've learned in all my years in Australia it's, if you can't beat them, join them! So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to see how I've fared this week!

Learn the Lingo
footy tipping=a betting pool where participants try to predict the winners of weekly football matches
footy tips=the teams you pick to win the games
no worries=no problem
Yanks=Americans

But Mum, I really wanted to watch the game...and other confessions.

"But Mum, I really wanted to watch the game." These are the words my beautiful four year old muttered in protest as she was being tucked snugly into her bed this evening. The game in question is Geelong vs. Port Adelaide being played in Adelaide as I write this. The Handsome Australian is still a die hard Geelong fan and he has made it his mission in life to ensure that any offspring he produces follow in his Geelong loving footsteps.

After the scandal I created by choosing to barrack for Carlton all those years ago, I think the Handsome Australian decided he needed to buckle down and make sure the rest of 'our family' went his way. I don't begrudge him this dream, I think every guy wants to pass the love of his favourite team on to his kids. In the Handsome Australian's case, this has been extremely important (particularly in the last year as Geelong has been cruising at the top of the ladder and actually walked away with the Premiership at the end of the 2007 season--but don't call him fair weather, he takes offense to that. Trust me.).

He began by teaching both of our children the battle cry, "GO THE CATS!!" This is what Geelong fans will shout out during a game in support of their team. The Australians have a funny way of adding a "THE" between the "GO" and "CATS". It used to sound extremely strange to me when I first arrived, but now it's just second nature. Our four year old has been able to shout these words at the top of her lungs for a couple of years now. Our nearly two year old made his "GO THE CATS" debut only a few months ago. I think it's safe to say that hearing the children chanting this phrase over and over at the dinner table makes the Handsome one's heart swell with pride.

Next he taught our daughter the Geelong Song--oh yes, there is a song! Did I forget to mention that each AFL team has their own goofy little song? Well, they do! When a particular team wins a game, their club's song is played over the PA at the stadium and all the supporters sing it. Once the players of the winning team are off the field and back in the locker room after the game, they form a circle and sing the club song at the top of their lungs. Don't laugh!! The fans take this very seriously and the networks actually televise this. It's a ritual.

As luck would have it, our daughter loves music and took to the song like a duck to water. Unfortunately, she couldn't always remember the words so I'd constantly hear, "Mum, can we sing the Geelong song again?" To which I'd have to oblige and sing the song for her--over and over and over again. I can sing the Geelong song backwards in my sleep hanging upside down from the monkey bars at the local park if I need to. Maybe that's a new party trick I should put on the resume...

With the team propaganda sorted and our children suitably brainwashed, the Handsome Australian began to explain some of the finer points of the game to them while he sat on the edge of his seat about three inches from the TV screen as Geelong played game after game. The four year old can recognise 'goals' as well as 'marks' while her younger brother is still clutching to basics like, "ball", "man", "running". Don't worry though, he's a clever kid and he'll get there.

About a month ago, the Handsome Australian decided that the four year old was ready to experience her first Geelong Game in the flesh. He picked an afternoon game at the 'MCG' (Melbourne Cricket Ground) on a dismal winter's day. It was about 11 degrees Celsius (that's about 51 degrees Fahrenheit) with patches of rain. I rugged her up in five different layers and sent a blanket along with her. She was beside herself with excitement at the prospect of attending her first footy match with her dear old Dad. The Handsome Australian was beaming too. They were quite the giddy little pair. The mother in me was concerned about the weather and my little one's exposure to the elements for several hours at what I might describe as a 'boring footy match', but I couldn't deny them this experience. So, off they went.

She LOVED it!!! She LOVED it!!! Upon returning home she informed me that 1) yes she was warm enough 2)no, Daddy did not buy her any hot chips (that's Aussie for french fries) but she did manage to wrangle a hot chocolate out of him 3) Geelong won the game and 4) her favourite part was when the mascots took the field at the beginning and when they got to sing the Geelong song at the end of the game. Then she proceeded to sing the song for the rest of the day...and the day after that, and the day after that.

She didn't want to go to bed tonight because she wanted to watch her beloved Geelong with her beloved Dad. She's four. Help! Imagine how passionate she's going to be when she gets older. Yikes. I wasn't expecting the Handsome Australian's brainwashing regime to be this effective. He's got skills I never even knew about.

Here's the thing though, all this Geelong stuff, it's starting to rub off on me. How can I look in the dewy eyes of my two little lambs and tell them that Mommy barracks for Carlton? They'll hate me forever. I think I'm quietly being converted to a Geelong supporter...did I just say that? Damn he's good! Whatever you do, don't mention this to the Handsome Australian. I'll NEVER live it down!

Learn the Lingo
barrack=root
mark=to quote Wikipedia, "A mark is a skill in Australian rules football where a player cleanly catches a kicked ball that has travelled more than 15 metres without anyone else touching it or the ball hitting the ground"
MCG= Melbourne Cricket Ground, affectionately referred to by most as "The G".
Mum=Mom
hot chips=french fries

Samosas and Scandal

Have you ever had to tell someone you love something you know is going to break their heart? The kind of thing that you know will go to the very depths of their soul and smash it into tiny bits in one fell swoop? How do you go about breaking such news? Do you try and soften it somehow? Do you say it directly? Do you avoid it all together and hope they'll find out somehow on their own? These are difficult questions to answer, particularly when you are talking about the footy...

Once I'd completed the step by step scientific process of choosing a footy team to barrack for in Australia, I had to break the news to my boyfriend, the Handsome Australian. I knew he wouldn't take it well, especially since I had chosen to barrack for a rival team, the Carlton Blues, and not the team that he'd poured his dedication, passion and devotion into for the last 20 years, the Geelong Cats.

I chose the softly, softly approach. I waited until we went out to dinner one night at his favourite restaurant. The Handsome Australian loves Indian cuisine so we went to one of the many great places Melbourne has to offer. We had ordered our dinner and were nibbling away on the entrees (that's Australian for appetizer...well, to be fair it's really a French word meaning entry or entrance and while I question the Australian use and spelling of many words, I have to say I'm with them on this one. It just makes sense that entree would be the first dish you'd have in a meal but I digress....) a lovely plate of samosas, chicken tikka and vegetable pakoras. The Handsome Australian was clearly enjoying himself so I thought, Now's as good a time as any...

Me: Casually, "So I've been having a think about this whole crazy obsession everyone in this town seems to have with the footy."

HA: Far too interested in the food to understand the magnitude of what was about to pass from my lips, "Yeah?"

Me: Realising his obsession with the food might allow me to sneak this past him without a great deal of drama, "Yeah and I decided that it was time that I chose a team to barrack for as well. I mean I don't want to feel left out of it or anything."

HA: Looking up as he takes a bite out of a pakora and saying very unfussed, "Oh well, that's easy. You can barrack for Geelong like I do. They're a great team. They can use all the supporters they can get this year."

Me: Realising that I might not slip this under the radar like I had first anticipated, "Yeah I've thought about that. Your brothers have sung their praises to me in many a conversation. I know you all love some guy named Abbott or...

HA: Cutting me off before I could finish, "Ablett. You mean Ablett. Gary Ablett or GOD as we like to call him. Greatest player ever to take the field for Geelong or any team for that matter. Do you know how many goals he kicked in his career?"

Me: Not sure if that was a rhetorical question or I was supposed to answer, but wanting to continue with my mission regardless, "No, I don't really know how many goals he kicked, but I know your brothers worship him and they made me watch some video the other day from the 1989 Grand Final. Um yeah, he's not that good looking you know."

HA: In disbelief, "Good looking? Good looking? You are talking about one of the greatest footballers of all time. Who cares if he's good looking. He was a bloody good footballer."

Me: Wondering if the Handsome Australian always looks this irritated when eating pakoras or if perhaps it's just this conversation. Hmm. Soldiering on, "Well, 'bloody good footballer' or not, your brothers said he's retired now and doesn't play for Geelong anymore so I couldn't factor that in to my choice of a team to support. Sorry."

HA: Looking confused and probably beginning to wonder where this whole conversation is heading, "Well it doesn't matter what factors you considered as long as Geelong was the conclusion you came to, you'll be right."

Me: Uh-oh you handsome thing, prepare yourself, "Well darling, I considered many factors and I did quite a bit of research. You'd be proud of me--really you would--and well, you see I've come to the conclusion that I will be barracking for Carlton."

HA: Spitting out a bit of chicken tikka, eyes popping out of his head, "You are barracking for WHO? Carlton? Are you SERIOUS? Get outta here--you can't barrack for Carlton. They may be going okay this season, but they've got nothin' on Geelong. How'd you come to this anyway?"

Me: Wondering how much of my scientific method I should explain to him. Tactfully, "I'd really rather not reveal my method but please understand this isn't a decision I take lightly. I've really put some deep thought into this (does drooling over photos of SOS count as thought?) and I just want you to respect my choice."

HA: Smiling cynically, "Ok, fine. You want to barrack for Carlton? Go ahead, barrack for Carlton. But keep in mind that I barrack for Geelong, my brothers barrack for Geelong, my Uncles barrack for Geelong--my entire extended family barracks for Geelong and the Geelong games are the only games we are going to go and see. So you can join us in our love for the greatest club in the comp (that's Aussie for competition) and come along to the games and enjoy yourself or you can sell yourself short and become a Bluebagger (slang for Carlton supporter) and go to the one game of the season when Geelong plays Carlton and we kick your arse (that's Aussie for ass).

Me: What? Did he just say I'd only get to go to one game if I barrack for Carlton? Sweet. This whole Carlton thing has worked out better than I thought it would. "Well, I know it's hard for you to take, but I'm going to stick with the Blues. I'm willing to accept the fact that I may only be able to attend one game this year. I'd rather that than having to compromise my personal choice just to jump on your bandwagon."

HA: "Done."

Me: "Done."

Learn the Lingo
entree=appetizer
comp=competition
Bluebagger=Carlton supporter
arse=ass

The oh so scientific method of choosing a footy team

After my embarrassing conversation with the Handsome Australian's brother about which team I had chosen to support in the new and mysterious world of Aussie Rules football, I felt it was time that I put my loyalties somewhere. After all, the Handsome Australian's brother was right when he said EVERYONE had a team--everyone did. Everywhere you went, it was almost always the second or third question you'd get asked when meeting someone new--Who do you barrack for? And the obsession with Aussie Rules (in Victoria anyway) didn't have a gender divide--both women and men, boys and girls were equally passionate about their footy.

So I set about the task of choosing a team to barrack for.

Now, there are several ways one can go about choosing a football team to support:

Firstly, you might ask your friends who they support and just jump on their bandwagon. At this particular point in my Australian tenure, I didn't know too many people beyond the Handsome Australian and his immediate family. When asked about the footy, they were adamant that I would be barracking for Geelong. End of story. To do otherwise would be to fly in the face of reason and would be seen as a personal affront to the Geelong loving dynasty the Handsome one's Uncle had started so many years ago when the family first immigrated to the lucky country and fell in love with the Blue and White hoops of Geelong.

So decision made right? I know nothing about the game. I should just go along with the Handsome Australian and his family and their love for Geelong surely.

But alas, I'm not one of those girls who just says yes. I'm my own person and I was determined to decide for myself and not be told who I would barrack for (because I really cared oh so much about this life changing decision...sure.)

So I decided I should weigh up other options...

Another possible method for choosing a footy team could be based on the win/loss record at the time of choosing. You obviously want to choose a winning side and what is a better determinant of that than a winning record? Go here to see how the ladder (that's Australian for standings) ended up in 1999 (the year in which I was making this choice). You'll notice if you follow the link, that Geelong finished number 11 out of 16. Do they sound like winners to you? No, I didn't think so either. So that cast even more doubt on Geelong being the right choice. I'm not a loser, I'm a winner!

The ladder was a good way to become acquainted with the different teams--the ones near the top that is. But you can't just choose on record alone.


There are many other important factors that must be considered, like the guernsey (that's Australian for jersey) colours and design for instance. Yes, I think that is an extremely important factor indeed.

It wouldn't be right if I didn't take note of the fashions on the field right? So I had a look at the teams in the top half of the ladder and began to take a critical look at their guernseys. Here were some of my choices (I won't bore you with them all, but if you are keen you can follow the link and have a look at all of them here).

This is the Essendon Bombers guernsey. They finished at the top of the ladder, but didn't go on to win the Premiership (that's the Aussie Rules equivalent of the Super Bowl). The red slash seemed a bit severe.

This is the North Melbourne Kangaroos guernsey. They finished number two on the regular season ladder and made it through the Finals to the Premiership Game and staged a convincing win. So they obviously played well, but I just couldn't cope with the vertical stripes.

This is the guernsey for the Carlton Blues. They finished number 6 on the ladder during the regular season, but valiantly fought their way through the finals for a berth in the Premiership Game. They lost to the North Melbourne Kangaroos by 35 points, but have a look at the guernsey--crisp, classic. I loved the CFC on the front (for Carlton Football Club, of course). Simple and stunning at the same time. Yes, I liked the look of this Carlton team.


It would be rather shallow of me to put so much weight on the look of the guernsey. I thought, I must have a look at the player list as well because you'd want a team with good players (or good looking ones anyway). So I started learning about a few of the players and studying them carefully--this was research, after all. I needed to choose a team.


Here's what I found...they call him SOS (pronounced sauce) and he was amazing! His real name is Stephen Silvagni. A very talented player with an impressive footy pedigree. His father, Sergio or "Serge" Silvagni also played for Carlton. Hence Stephen's nickname SOS stands for Son of Serge. Of course these were unnecessary details. I didn't need any more convincing. I was SOLD!!


So Carlton it was. They had it all, good results during the season, a great looking guernsey and a star player that knocks your socks off!

Now to break the news to the Handsome Australian...

Learn the Lingo
ladder=standings
guernsey=jersey
Finals=playoffs
Preliminary Final=inital round of playoffs
Grand Final=Super Bowl
Premiership Game=Grand Final=Super Bowl
SOS=Son of Serge aka Stephen Silvagni

Who do you barrack for?

Handsome Australian's Brother (HAB): "So have you decided who you barrack for?"

Me: Quickly flipping through the rolodex in my mind (or for those Gen Y readers out there, googling my mind) trying to figure out what he meant by 'barrack'. Coming up empty handed I had to ask what had easily become my most FAQ since my arrival in Australia, "Excuse me?"

HAB: "Your team. You've gotta have a team. Everyone has a team. Have you chosen a team?"

Me: It would be so nice if I actually knew what team he was talking about. It's quite obvious he thinks I know what he means. Look at his face...ahhh. I'm really not this slow, honest, I'm not. Team? Team? Team? Ok I give up, "Team?"

HAB: Disappointment on his face and a distinct hint of disbelief about my inability to understand anything he was talking about--like 'Is this girl for real? Where did my brother find her anyway?' "Yeah, you know, the footy. Have you chosen a team to barrack for in the footy?"

ME: Oh, the footy. Yes, the footy. Of course, the footy. The what? "I'm sorry, the footy?"

HAB: Slowly losing patience, "Yes, the footy. You know, Aussie Rules FOOTBALL."

ME: Light bulb moment, oh that footy. Of course, Aussie Rules. Yeah I totally knew what he was talking about. I just didn't know that I knew...okay I had no idea, and it was painfully obvious to both him and me. "Oh yeah Aussie Rules. That's like Rugby right?"

HAB: A smile creeping up on his face and then boisterous laughter, "No, no (in between laughs) it's not Rugby. Rugby is totally different. We don't follow the Rugby down here. In Vic (meaning the state of Victoria) we are Aussie Rules people. It's a completely different sport. Do you follow sport at all? I mean anything, basketball, grid iron, soccer anything?

ME: I was with him until the grid iron part...here we go again, "Yes, I do follow sports. Well I like basketball anyway and I root for the San Antonio Spurs. I'm a big David Robinson fan (trying to show I do know something about 'sport' as he calls it). I've even been to a few games. (Casually) What's grid iron anyway?"

HAB: Laughing to himself, slapping his knee and then putting on a straight face, "Um, can I give you a tip?"

ME: Oh my God, what have I done now? A tip? What kind of tip--don't ask so many silly questions about sport? Or even better, don't ask so many silly questions period..."Sure."

HAB: "Whatever you do, don't say 'root' when you talk about your support of a sports team here in Australia. It doesn't mean the same thing here that it does in America. It's kinda rude if you catch what I mean."

ME: Going red in the face. Oh this is so embarrassing. What have I said now? How can they call this English--there is nothing about it that's the same. Afraid to ask, but knowing I'm better off finding out now, "Rude? Do you mean offensive?"

HAB: Relishing this, "Yes, offensive."

ME: "What does it mean exactly?"

HAB: "Here, root means to f**k."

ME: Hands over my mouth, my face turning an even darker shade of red. So I just said the equivalent of 'I f**k the San Antonio Spurs.' Right. Is having a conversation in this country always going to suck this much? All I can muster, "I see."

HAB: "Here we say 'barrack' instead of 'root'. So when someone says, 'Who do you barrack for?' They are asking you which team you support. Which, if you remember now, was my original question to you."

ME: Yes, yes, yes, I do remember hearing that funny little 'barrack' word previously, but that was before I said I liked to f**k an entire basketball team. Surely he can forgive me for forgetting. "Yes, you did ask me that didn't you? Well, I think it'd be pretty obvious by now that I haven't chosen one, but judging by my previous statement, I'm guessing I'll be pretty popular when I do!"

HAB: Laughing really hard. "Bloody oath mate, bloody oath."

Learn the Lingo
barrack=root
root=f**k
footy=can refer to football of all varieties: Australian Rules, Rugby, Soccer, etc.
grid iron=American football
sport=sports
bloody oath=too true (in this case)