Footy Fever is taking hold of Melbourne. Chris Judd snared the Brownlow Medal and I like him even more after hearing his comments about the pressures on WAGs* to dress-up and face such scrutiny. He mentioned work and children as great reasons to not “give a continental” about how you looked. That said - Rebecca Twigley scrubbed up all right Juddy. Yes, we all scrutinised her concave tummy in its corset and her twig-like arms – well she can’t be excused with kids yet. God help her if she has to hide her ‘T-bags’ one day!
My team is out of the race and I really should be getting out of the state with all the ‘Wood Peckers’ in force. Tonight, I decided to take a neutral approach with my imaginary piece - A Bird’s Eye View
Collingwood or the Saints? May the best team win!
They’re out there…a whole sea of them Dad, just like us they’re haggling for the first glimpse of the ball. Flapping, calling and punching the air. Squawking colourful team chants - a surge of pride raising their call and lifting their spirits.
That smell of churned turf makes them hungry for the action. Eyes circle the ground, hovering from all angles as bodies clash, legs buckle and teeth gnash.
That mysterious red leather-laced centrepiece shatters the flock as it spirals, twisting and turning through the sky. Every eye is fixed on its descent. Down it falls into bold hands. Saints pounce and feathers fly. Halos are crushed under razor talons.
Up they rise in unison. Out there, singing their song, marking their territory, ready to swoop. They are rivals – yet they are brothers. Giving their passion - giving their souls.
Is it the scent of victory or the thrill of the chase? Could it be the breathless anticipation as the ball negotiates the centre posts? A thunderous roar erupts as flags fly.
Perhaps I’ll stay perched on this roof Dad. Leave the ‘spectating’ up to them – let them do the leaping and screeching. Are these things called ‘fans’ really human Dad? Dad…?
*WAG – Wife & Girlfriends – usually in reference to celebs
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