Melbourne vs Brisbane
Alone in a corner I sipped my beer and for 20 minutes wondered why the hell I was a Roar fan. If it hadn’t have become “Brisbane Roar”, defecting to Gold Coast United would have been a no-brainer. I love Brisbane, but when it comes to sport I don’t really give a shit about ‘Queensland’. A sporting team should, in my view, represent an actual ants nest, a real community of humans, with a stadium in the middle. And while I was sitting there, watching my team play truly woefully, albeit attempting to play this ‘attacking football’ everyone seems to harp about, I thought, ‘Well, this is my lot. Thick or thin, this is my team. I guess they’ll have glory some time in my life, and other times they’ll probably be at the bottom, but they play for my town, which I live in, work in and love’.
Then Danny scored a cracker. Seconds later I apologised to the table next to me for my spontaneous reaction. They were good humoured about it – actually the smile from the girl was worth it. I was so excited I wandered outside the drinking area for a cigarette when Henrique was brought down and Dijk popped the penalty. 2:0 up, but I’m not really convinced by Dijk’s celebrations. Two goals in two games on paper, but both because he gets to take the penalties, which he didn’t earn, and he still keeps missing his chances from play. And God he’s ugly. Anyway he plays for my team.
I stll thought Melbourne were playing better and not once thought they weren’t still in the game. Just after Hernandez scored (The Roar’s defence up to that point so had that coming) a cop came over. He was a senior constable but I can’t remember his name. I noticed he didn’t look at the AFL screen. “Are you a Roar supporter?” “Aye.” He asked me who’d scored the goals and I told him. He’s from Wales and is a Leeds supporter. “It’s the only team,” he said. Now if that was true it would be a pretty small and uninteresting league, but I learned long ago to never argue with a policeman. Anyway, he wandered past a few times after that and got updates from me. Nice guy.
I’ve found before that when you go out alone to watch a football game you kind of spontaneously meet people who are also interested. It’s a contrast to going out alone to listen to music or trying to get laid, when I inevitably just get lonelier as the night goes on. The other bloke I got chatting to, who came in later, was wearing Celtic gear, a Scot. We reminisced joyfully about the Roar vs Celtic game, and he told me a wonderful story about a home Celtic game vs Liverpool where both groups (is 50,000 still a ‘group’?) sang ‘You’ll never walk alone’. I’m bloody jealous. Frankly I reckon the Roar should consider itself tagged with the Celtic germ and take the song up as our own. There is no greater soccer anthem in the world.
While I was chatting to the cop again Henrique scored his. Now that was quality – neither a somewhat lucky but brilliant bash like Danny’s nor a routine penalty like Dijk’s. A REAL goal. A goal to celebrate. Celebrating it with a yellow card (taking the shirt off) was a bit stupid, but he does have a nice bod – much prettier than Djik.
The mystery, which has almost become mundane, is that in the second half Brisbane actually looked better, but it was Melbourne scoring the goals. If someone has the time please drop me a line and explain to me what it’s all about. You know… soccer, life, whatever. Life is rich with metaphors for explaining soccer.
3:3. Jesus the A-League on this Saturday yielded 11 goals from two games. I don’t even want to talk about the Gold Coast. Frank Farina has put it on public record that he will bare his arse in public if the Gold Coast go through undefeated as Clive Palmer predicted. This is one of the most interesting things Frank has ever said and I almost hope it comes off so Frank is obliged to be so daring. Sorry I keep digressing. 3:3. A deserved draw, in a game of two halves where the teams took turns scoring against the run of play.
PS. I like the yellow nets.
A Rose by any Other Name Smells Just as Sweet (We Call it Soccer Prt 2)
So there will be more. But here’s instalment Two.
My point is not trivial. The insistence on the word ‘Football’ in the Australian media is holding the game back from the public mind. Now me merely stating that view will not convince anyone, so I ask that you read my points (including my first article) and THINK about this. I honestly and seriously believe that the Australian soccer community has so far lost the plot on this front.
First, in case anyone thinks I’m making this business up, consider the following sentences, from two bloggers I respect greatly for their love of the great game:
From Eamonn, of Nearpost: “It might be acceptable to Australians in State Of Origin or AFL but in my view football, men and women’s doesn’t need it.”
And from Ambrose’s Bloggerfella: “The only leagues I can think of which may offer precedent for the A-League’s four subs are the other Australian “football” leagues, the AFL and NRL, which both employ four-man interchange benches with unlimited changes allowed in AFL and 10 in NRL. Their formats are entirely different and irrelevant to football‘s.”
Now both of these intelligent people know the word ‘soccer’, they know what it means, it’s 100% in their vocabulary and, importantly, they have no other meaning for the word. Also, their audience also understands the word, unambiguously. From a purely editorial point of view, the word ‘soccer’ is appropriate in these sentences, for the very simple criteria of clarity of meaning.
Why don’t they use the word? This is just two cases from the past week. I see this editorial absurdity constantly. Now from an insider’s view they may even get a bit of congratulations for holding the flag or something. But from any other point of view (in Australia and many other countries) it just looks like they are, um, holding the flag. That is they look like they’re promoting an ideology or religion rather than a great game. They reinforce, every time they do this, the image of a slightly esoteric pursuit for foreigners and fanatics. It glares, and there’s no way that these writers aren’t self-conscious when they’re doing this.
In the second case the author goes further, and actually tries to imply that other football codes (there is no synonym for the word football-as-generic) shouldn’t be called that. That’s also common, from Les Murray for example: “so-called football codes”. Now that’s aggressive, even rude, toward codes that have generations of passionate and loyal followers, and even evokes the question, toward us, “Who’s afraid?” I’ll pursue that more in the future, but suffice to say here that it’s not helping anyone.
Ok, here’s another quote, from a bumper sticker I see around: “Support St Aidans’ Soccer.”
Now I have no idea about St Aidans, but this sticker is, by being around the place, also promoting the game I love to play and watch, so I think it’s cool that people have it on the back of their cars. Can anyone tell me what word they should use? Let’s just state the fucking obvious: “Support St Aidans’ Football” would simply NOT be promoting our game AT ALL. “Support St Aidans’ Football (Soccer)” would be editorially clumsy, I add because we actually see this absurdity, even in the mainstream press.
I’ve barely started. I know I’m up against pretty much the entire soccer community (‘football community’ would only make sense if I was referring to all the codes) here, but I know I’m right and I simply have to keep hammering this one.
For my money, every time the media, on radio, TV or in print is speaking of our game, which does have a greater actuality than a decade ago and has found its rightful place in our sports press (however reluctantly), the public should be seeing the word, the brand, SOCCER. Soccer, soccer, soccer. That’s what the public mind, however oblivious or married to other games they may be, would be being bombarded with. Bombarding it with yet more of the brand ‘Football, football, football’ does nothing. Read it again. From a promotion viewpoint, it does nothing.
Incidentally, on the three occasions I’ve been to the United States I’ve thought to ask everyday people whether they follow Gridiron. They have had no idea what I was talking about. They know it only as ‘football’. Funny how language works. And funny how authority doesn’t get to tell the public what words mean, except in Orwell’s dystopia. People decide what words mean, and linguists tell us why, whilst lexographers record the meanings in dictionaries. Next time you want to know what ‘soccer’ and ‘football’ mean in a particular language or dialect (and Australian is a dialect) try a dictionary. The FFA are not an authority, and neither are the fanatics, and neither am I.
A Day at the Football
I took Jacob of course, and also Dawn, my fiance (I successfully proposed last Sunday), for her first ever soccer game (not including watching me play futsal last Tuesday).
As we approaced the stadium, by train then bus, it was clear that the Celtic support would rival the Roar support. I’m guessing over half of the 31,000 people were Celtic, which is kind of embarrasing but very cool at the same time. Approaching the stadium itself there was colour, bagpipes and chanting hoop-clad yobos. All fun.
Still in the tunnels, the PA began playing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’. I thought that was kind of cool, but a bit daggy. Then I started hearing voices – many, many voices – competing with the PA. I ran through the closest entrance and witnessed the entire southern end on their feet belting out the song. Wow! Now that was very, very cool. This crew was, quite frankly, showing the locals how it was done. It was already a brilliant event, indeed a unique cultural experience, and the game hadn’t begun.
Next comes my one complaint. We went up the first set of stairs, along with many others, which stated clearly that they led to “Sections 726-732″ (we were in 731). AT THE TOP was a single security person telling us that this entrance was closed to us. I’m talking seven flights of stairs. Maybe place the guy at the bottom of the stairs? Or maybe a single sign, “Please use another flight of stairs”? As I told the poor guy (who had clearly been given a bum job), this is terrible management. I emphasise again that the stairs were actually correct ones, according to the signs. They did not lead to closed sections, they were just for reasons known only to the management not being used. Anyway, good for the thighs, and a small complaint when compared to the total experience.
This crowd was brilliant. We were at the opposite end to “The Jungle”, where the Celtic hardcore were designated, but we were surrounded on all sides ourselves by Celtic support and wild celtic accents. From our birds-eye view you could see green hoops throughout the stadium. Being above “The Den”, where the Roar loonies are, we could not actually see them, and truly it seemed like a Celtic home crowd. Not flattering for the Roar fans that’s for sure, but bloody brilliant to see and experience.
After the first Celtic goal, I almost hoped the Roar would not score because the cheer would have been embarrassing. I have never heard such a roar from a crowd. I had my Roar scarf on and of course hoped the Roar would not embarass themselves (to be sure, the first 30 minutes looked very competitive), but it was actually difficult to maintain my loyalty. With a crew like this, thousands of miles away from their home, Celtic deserved to win, they almost must win. “You’ll never walk alone” indeed.
About half way through the second half Jacob noticed a Mexican wave getting going, which looked pretty feeble and he noted, “That’s not going to get far.” The stadium was just over half full after all and the season-ticket side was very thinned. How wrong we were! It went around FIVE times and then some, and it quickly became obvious that the momentum was from the huge portion of ‘away’ supporters throughout. I remember when Australia played Paraguay in the same stadium, to a packed house (50,000+) and being so impressed when it nearly went round three times. These guys just know how to party.
And not one but THREE seperate streakers. Talk about a complete package of entertainment.
Yeah, yeah the game was good. Both sides attacked throughout and it was always exciting. Nice to see Robbie Kruse back and he was very impressive for the first half after which he seemed to sort of lose control. Overall I wasn’t embarassed for the boys in haz-chem. Celtic was just too good.
In the throngs back to the station after the game there was some brilliant (and all good-natured) yoboism from the hooped fans, climaxing in a staged group sex session between about five of them in the middle of Caxton St.
Dawn had fun, and not just for the reasons of spectacle, which bodes well for our future marriage. She said she actually found herself ‘rivetted’, and I could see why. As I said, the game wasn’t cagey, but open, attacking and attractive. That’s the way to seduce new fans.
Fantastic day at the football. Thankyou to whichever geniuses managed to organise this one. And, for what it’s worth, and I hope these things have some impact, a Red Card to Racism.
PS. Jacob and I have booked our packages to The World Cup South Africa, paid deposits and, according to the correspondence, have tickets to Australia’s three group games. How cool is that?
The Big One – World Cup South Africa, 2010
Moreso next year though. Jacob and I are going to the World Cup. I’m sure I’ll write a bit in the lead up, but covering the experience in my own ridiculous way will be an important part of the experience for me at least. That’s still a long way away.
What I want to attempt to get at here, in typical blog-tradition, is a discussion about what the hell I should do to organise this (to me) ambitious adventure. Is any of the handfull of people who read this blog going themselves? Have any of you been before? So far I’m thinking of finding a tour deal, but are there ways of getting the best deal and the best chance for Australian-game tickets?
Of course I fully expect, from reading about people’s experiences of the 2006, 2002 and other Cups, that regardless of how well we have tickets, accomodation and transport organised, that it will be chaos. Jamie Trecker (Love & Blood at the World Cup with the Footballers, Fans and Freaks), a notable and card-carrying journalist with expenses, found himself struggling and once had to sleep on a train station with dozens of other fans after a riot stopped the trains for a while. This was in Germany. Germany might be said to be among best practice in the world when it comes to efficiency, organisation and security. South Africa would not be included in such a list.
Now I consider myself a worldly and resourceful person but this one makes me a little anxious, and Jacob has never been outside very safe boundaries. On the other hand I will be at the quixotically auspicious age of 42, and Jacob will have just turned 15 – not old enough to drink, have sex and make up his own bloody mind, but at the same time old enough to… um… drink, have sex and make up his own bloody mind. Anyway, an adventure it will be, and I have briefed the lad that nothing will be guaranteed, that we will wear colours and use any groups of Australian fans as security, especially if we beat England on a dubious ref decision, and we will make absolutely certain that we meet a Norwegian single mother with her teenage daughter. Apart from these key things, we might have to wing it.
Anyway, if anyone reading has any advice at all, serious or otherwise, lay it down please.
Trifecta Therapy
It’s only very partly true. I haven’t been writing or thinking deeply about soccer, but I remain addicted to the Roar. I just couldn’t bare going to the game last night however, as if Newcastle had won it would have been too upsetting. Anxiously watching the score on the net, when Griffiths scored I simultaneously groaned and thanked God I wasn’t there. Then Mitchel came on, replacing my second-favourite defender – ok I was curious. The same automatic refresh said “Half Time” as first said “1:1″. Shit, I better get to a screen. But I finished my beer first.
Walked up to the mall and caught the last 20 minutes. The same old frustrating story. The Roar executing attack after attack, coming frustratingly close, missing sitters, Moore heads to the goalie, we’ve seen all this before. An excrutiating draw. I can’t fucking bare it!
But it was a happy ending. They actually scored. 2:1. I love them. All of them. And the Roar women won the Premiership with their win and the Roar youth won their game too. I’m happy ok? Back to work.
