Footy mad - It's crazy

I live in Melbourne and I don't follow the AFL. You are all being taken for a ride.

There, I said it. Now, after a confident statement like that, where do I go and hide? For this is far more than a simple pronouncement of sporting (non) allegiance, this is an outright rejection of the city and its culture. When I tell them that, well, the footy simply bores me, Melbournites stare blankly at me until they realise I am serious. And then they regard me with that pitying stare normally reserved for an injured animal or a fallen-down toddler.

Of course, reactions vary. But disbelief, condescension and frustration are the constants. And the most common question is, why?

It's too long, for starters. The game goes all freaking afternoon for chrissakes. Make it shorter already.

Or, actually, don't bother. Because it would still be boring. The game has too much reliance on size and brawn. The physicality of the contest appears far more important than any application of mental acumen. When I want to watch gladiators strut around an arena I watch Ben Hur. Or Russell Crowe. Or UFC.

Moving on, and quickly now, because I sense a posse being formed, what the heck is it with the odd shaped ball? No guys, that doesn't add a 'glorious unpredictability' to the game - it makes it clumsy and erratic. The game doesn't flow; it stumbles along, like a tottering drunk at midnight.

I could go on - rabid fans, silly shorts, a 'siren'. But then you would think I am some namby-pamby cravat wearing artiste who rails against sport in general. Not true - I haven't worn a cravat in ages, and I appreciate the incredible skills that most sports encourage. And watching mere sport 'transcend into theatre' still gives me goosebumps.

But AFL? No thanks. I ain't buying what they're selling.

Caffeine Culture

My friends looked at me afresh, contemplating what I'd just said. And then, as couples sometimes do, they looked at each other, exchanging bemused looks.

"So", she said "Let's get this straight, you're saying the coffee in Brisbane is as at least as good as Melbourne and at times possibly even better?"

I detected the makings of a smirk on her face as she spoke, but considered my tenuous position and chose to ignore it for now.

"Yes" I replied evenly, knowing that I had now crossed the line and should prepare myself for a battle royale.

"Pah" she spat, and then leant back contentedly in her chair as if she had just administered the closing argument of a Queen's Counsel. A head-shake and roll of the eyes confirmed her position. She then shot me a concerned look, as if I might be ill, or perhaps even intoxicated. Silence took control. I started to feel uncomfortable.

"L..Look" I stammered, "I'm not saying it's better overall, it's just that there are some places in Brisbane, well only a few really, but their coffee is really very good indeed - well, most of the time anyway, and..." Despite what I knew to be be the truth, I started to falter under their combined glares and wondered about what I had started.

Sensing my weakness, he offered his own conclusion:

"So, it's OK, but not as good overall", and then allowed himself a smug glance at his wife.

"I guess", I said, my capitulation now complete.

"Well", she said, the self-satisfied victor, "You had us going for a minute there. Fancy a cuppa tea?"