It may come as a bit of a surprise to some readers of this little corner of the internet to discover that I am, once again, in Australia. For the second time in as many weeks, the reasons for which are too convoluted to explain here, I have touched down on Aussie soil for a few days of recuperation. Well it's important to have a bit of a rest after a big holiday isn't it? And, I have been back in work for two weeks. Okay, well only eight and a half days, but they were quite busy ones. I just hope the Australian authorities aren't on high alert and suspect me of immigration by stealth. They needn't worry because flying in every two weeks is an expensive business and not something that I can sustain over a long period. Sorry New Zealand, you haven't gotten rid of me just yet!
Anyway, we're back in Australia and have spent a fantastic few days relaxing in Melbourne in what is our second, and hopefully not last, visit.
Previously we were here to attend two concerts which whilst gave the impetus for us to visit, curtailed some of the activities that we could engage upon. Plus it was summer then and now, with the thermometer at the lower end of the range, we were ready for a totally different experience.
The thing with visiting cities, especially when time is tight, is that it's all too easy to simply tick of the must-see sights, have a couple of drinks, pack your bags and then move on to the next destination. And that's just fine as you'll leave Melbourne thinking what a great place it is and promise to return should circumstances allow.
Which they did, and so we found ourselves once again in the capital of Victoria, or Vic for short. This time, rather than rely on the wisdom of the internet, we had some good friends to show us around. And what a difference that makes. If you are ever given the opportunity for some locals to guide you around your chosen destination I thoroughly recommend that you take them up on it. You won't regret it and you'll get to see parts of the place, in this case city, that other sources may otherwise overlook.
Not only did we get to drink, eat and chat in some great pubs and bars, see our first real Australian Football League (AFL) game, more of which in a moment, we also visited coastal towns, hillside villages, cable-carred (if that isn't a verb then it should be) up to a stunning view point and fed local wildlife. All within the confines of a single city.
So AFL. What's that all about? Well, after seeing Carlton take on the mighty Hawthorn I consider myself to be a bit of an expert. "What after only one gone?" I hear you ask. Well I'm a quick learner and I had good teachers. So in a nutshell, here is a true idiot's guide to AFL;
Firstly, imagine a game that is a cross between soccer, rugby, basketball and even wrestling and you might get somewhere close to the spectacle that is AFL. Add to that heady mix the fact that there are 18 player per side and at least six referees, not to mention numerous pink-clad runners and you've got one hell of a game. To the uninitiated chaos seems to be the order of the day but, as I learnt, there's more to it than meets the eye.
The aim of the game is to get the ball through one set of the four uprights at the opposing end if the pitch, which is incidentally oval and not rectangular. Not only does this mean that the game can be played on slightly modified cricket pitches, it also prevents the soccer spectacle of an entire team being camped in one of the corners, protecting the ball from the opposition whilst the clock counts down, only to spectacularly fail at the last second and watch, distraught, as the opposing team gains the bell and saunters down the pitch to score in an open goal. Just watch any game involving Middlesbrough FC and you'll see what I mean.
How the ball gets through the uprights is entirely up to you. Running with the ball, handling or kicking is all allowed with the only limitation that you can't hold the ball for more than 10 metres. Or as long as the referee permits according to some of those around us in the stadium. Points are awarded for getting the ball between the posts with a higher score for a clean kick through the centre set. If the ball is deemed to have hit the post, then less points are awarded as it's considered, presumably, to be less worthy. Which is a shame because some of the most entertaining, if not intentional, goals I have seen in soccer are those where the ball is kicked optimistically into the box, ricochets off a half-dozen players before hitting the goalkeeper on the side of the head and deflecting into the goal off the post. Ah well, it's AFL's loss.
Still with me? Good. The game is played over four quarters of twenty minutes each, with the clock stopping whenever the play is interrupted. The interesting thing is that only the timekeeper, who is out of sight to everyone, knows exactly how long is left leading to the odd situation where the entire stadium don't know how long is left in the period and therefore can't slope off to the bar. Or toilet. This avoiding the "Shall I, shan't I shuffle" that plays out across the football grounds in Britain every Saturday at 3:45pm, give or take a few minutes for stoppages. Unless you are Manchester United and playing at home in which case it's until you score a goal.
The other discerning feature is the sight of a referees, or umpire, turning their back to the game and throwing the ball tens of metres over their heads into play. It's a fascinating sight and quite an energetic feat, although it did occasionally look like an overly-competitive bride who was trying to throw a bouquet over the heads of all of the assembled guests and into the car park.
And that's just about all you need to know. It's fast, free-flowing, occasionally confusing and sometimes brutal.. Much like life itself but more good natured and with comfortable seats!
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