Several years ago, on one of my first visits to Australia, Mark took me to a footy game in Tasmania. Much of the story I'm about to recount was told to me by Mark. Since he was the one who told me the bird that was bullying me was a Magpie and later refuted that in the comment sections, you might not want to make any life altering decisions based on the information contained below. Aussie Rules originated in Victoria, the state in which we currently live. Since Melbourne is the biggest city in the state, the area is saturated with teams. Quite different than the US.
There is currently no team in Tassie, but according to Mark they tend to root (root means something altogether different here... I can't remember if that's just an Australian thing or if its alternative definition is known in the US as well??) barrack for Hawthorne in Tassie. Now, this is information Mark did not disclose to me until.. well ever, I worked it out on my own when we turned up to the game. You see, Hawthorne was playing Sinhilda, I was told. (That is what everyone says--don't let anyone tell you different.) Mark, being the loving husband that he is, wanted me to get into the game so he bought me a Sinhilda footy top! Now, you may or may not recall that in the early days of visiting Australia I was under the impression that Australians hated Americans. Why, you ask? Because Mark said they did. For this reason I rarely ever spoke in public. I really tried to keep a low profile. Nothing like keeping a low profile by wearing a red/white/black jersey in a sea of yellow and brown. Thanks Mark.
Not that Americans aren't into their football, but it's different here. The game is so extremely intense. They rarely have commercials because there's NEVER a break. They don't wear pads or helmets or any protective gear. They don't stop after each play. Every player is fit beyond belief because they are running constantly. There are no overweight players as you sometimes see in the states. It makes American football look like a tea party, I don't mean the political kind. I imagine it's because of this that the fans are intense as well. So, turning up in the opposing team's jersey was nothing short of traumatic. Once again, thank you Mark.
After much mockery I finally learned that Sinhilda is actually St. Kilda, the St. (Saint) Kilda Saints, in fact. Australians have a law against enunciating, apparently. Lucky enough when we moved to Australia our closest team is St. Kilda (not like the other teams are far or anything) but, since I already had the jersey, I already had my team! Serendipity!
The reason I'm writing about this now is because yesterday was the Grand Final--the Superbowl of Australian Rules football. Another comparison that makes me marvel at the difference between Australia in the US is there are oodles of people at Mark's work that were going to the game. Kessler's teacher went as well. I only heard of people who knew people that went to the Superbowl. Anyway, my team, St. Kilda made it to the Grand Final along with the Collingwood Magpies. It's unfortunate that my mother and father-in-law are Collingwood fans. I just can't root barrack for a team whose Mascot is terrorizing me.
I wasn't too interested in watching the game, until I started watching the game. Holy hell it's action packed. It just took a few seconds before I was ooowing and aaawing. Next thing I knew I was yelling at the TV. St. Kilda was a few goals down at half time. I kind of figured they were going to play less aggressively because of the deficit. Not the case, my friends. They rallied back to tie the game, then take the lead. Collingwood answered and the game was tied with only a couple of minutes on the clock. Mark and I started talking about whether they would go into sudden death or whether they'd have to play another quarter if there was a tie. We'd soon find out; the game did end with a tie. We anxiously watched the TV as many of the players collapsed onto the ground out of sheer exhaustion. The expression on both teams' faces was nothing short of disbelief and defeat. Those who weren't on the ground were wandering around the field aimlessly. Why weren't they getting ready for the tie breaker? Because there isn't one, until next weekend. They have to come back and play again!!!! The poor bastards! Can you imagine? I feel so sorry for the players and the die hard fans that won't be able to come back next weekend. I don't feel sorry for the AFL or whoever gets the proceeds from two Grand Finals in an 8 day period!
On a side note, it's so [insert a range of emotions here] to watch the nuances of how the kids are changing as they adjust to living here. For example, Mark was getting Makena excited about the game. The week before last there was footy day at school where the kids were allowed to wear civvies with a footy top instead of their uniform. So, we bought Makena a St. Kilda top. With it came a lesson on who she was "going for" as this is all new to her, of course. Mark kept quizzing her so she'd know the right answer to give. At various points over the last several days "who are you going for" has been the topic of conversation.
The choice in wording, though subtle, elicits excitement, wonder, disbelief... I mean, my kids are Australian. They always have been, but it won't be long before that's all they'll remember, especially Kessler. Every day their accent changes and they use a new word. Of course this is completely normal for them. It isn't any different than it's supposed to be. I really am so excited for them, but at times I feel a little sad because it feels like a part of me is slipping away. Like, they'll never know their mom was a kick ass quarterback!! Lucky for me, I'm not much of a traditionalist, so the feeling is fleeting rather than an anchor that ties me down. I am quickly reminded that the type of "me" that I am, is exactly what brought us here. So with that, I look forward to the future with anxious anticipation and a small tear in my eye.
