Footy, Wipeout

Mum and Dad came down for the weekend and stayed in a hotel in the city. On Saturday we went to the Gabba to see the Lions play their opening match of the season.

I’m not mad about footy. But Dad quite likes it, and I used to watch it with him as a kid. Back when the Lions used to win everything. Since then things have changed. I’ve grown from a little smartarse into a big smartarse, and the Lions have deteriorated from a once near un-beatable team, to the fairly mediocre standard which saw them finish last season pondering not even making the top eight.

And so I found myself at the Gabba, on the cool Saturday evening, nice and close to the field with a view across the stadium. Watching them getting beaten up in their home ground by the West Coast Eagles.

It was just ridiculous man, the Eagles came out hard and fast and left the Lions running around aimlessly, game plan out the window, along with all hints of confidence. At one point three of the guys went to mark the same ball, crashed into each other and fell into a heap. Meanwhile an Eagle plucked it out of the air and sent it up the field and they scored another.

A couple of times in the past the Lions have staged momentous comebacks. But this time it was a big ask, even for them. Furthermore, they are for the first time without their legendary coach Leigh Matthews and many of the star players that comprised the unbeatable Lions machine that won three straight premierships. It was ex-captain Michael Voss’s first time coaching the side and it was beginning to look pretty embarrassing for him.

So anyway, the siren sounded to signal the end of the first quarter. Score something stupid like 12-50 and the crowd was spewing. A few people walked out.

Vossy cruised onto the field brandishing a whiteboard and the team gathered around sullenly. He spent the next five minutes scrawling madly upon it, and gesticulating wildly. The break ended and Voss left the field. Play recommenced with the ball-up, and suddenly, everything changed.

I don’t know what Michael Voss said to the team in that five minutes, but for the next two hours the  crowd of Lions fans was treated to a most almighty resurgence. Cheering every mark. Roaring at every tackle. The Lions kicked about five unanswered goals and equalised. Insane. In the fourth quarter they streaked ahead by a couple of goals and held the margin right to the end. The buzz in the stadium was awesome.

So I’m not a huge footy fan. But watching that courageous victory I really enjoyed. I loved chanting and taunting the Eagles supporters in front of us as the game slipped from their grasp. I especially enjoyed when Jonathan Brown hammered some little Eagles player about 20m from where we were sitting. We were on our feet, fists in the air. I have to admit there’s something pretty cool about watching fast, violent ball games in a stadium. I never really got it when I watched it on TV. Now I understand.

I don’t understand the old guys who take it really serious. You know the ones who yell advice to the players. “RUN IT MGRATH!” “LIONS I WANNA SEE YOU WINNING THOSE CONTESTS AYE!”
Shut up mate, you’re an insurance salesman, not the friggin’ coach. Noone cares about your half baked bullshit advice. Get off your soap box and stop embarrassing your wife.

Sunday me and Mike went bodyboarding. It was my second time out after I had a month out of the water as a result of me injuring my chest. It proved to be quite an intense afternoon. A strong south easterly wind whipped up after lunch and sent big dumping waves into the open beach we were stupidly attempting to surf.

I now have a new record for my worst wipe out ever. I got out past the main break and saw a big one coming. It wasn’t too steep and didn’t look that nasty. I started to paddle. Suddenly it was 80 degrees steep and I was teetering on the top, like two metres up in the air. I could either attempt to abort and probably go down backwards and get smashed. Or I could attempt to catch it and shoot out the bottom.

I went for the latter. I sent the board flying down the front, but I got too much air and lost it when I hit the water and the whole show exploded on top of me. My face hit the sand numerous times, and I surfaced about fifty metres down the beach.

I trudged out of the water, seeing stars and sat on the beach quietly for the next ten minutes or so. Realising I’m not really that great at bodyboarding.

Not that you have to be good at something to love it.

I mean I’m alright. I’m certainly a lot less fit due to the afore-mentioned injury. But I shouldn’t have gotten that injury either. It was due to stupid technique. I really need to refine stuff like that. And possibly surf on a better beach than the spit. I think I might have a crack at Burleigh Heads this weekend. I’m sick of negotiating dumpers and crashing through white foam. It’s fun for awhile but there’s no finesse, and it’s pretty dangerous.