Footy

This past weekend was a reflection on many reasons why I love (and not so love) being an American. The reflection and ceremonies around the 10 year of September was touching beyond words and I felt the umph of patriotism and gathering as a nation from all the way over here. That is why I loved being an American.

Why I did not love being an American (and in particular an American sports fan). The Georgia Bulldogs are opening their season 0 and 2  for the first time since 1996. As much as I stand by and support my team and Mark Richt, I would much rather see my team win to help give meaning to the rush of feelings I get when watching a pre-game pump up video or a highlights reel. Needless to say, I know our team has potential - I just want to see it!

I have been trying to explain over the past couple of weeks to my new Melbourne posse (made up mostly of a unnnnbeeelievable group of Irish guys, a few of their girlfriends and roommates, a Canadian guy and the "two North American girls" ((me and Rebecca - my soon to be new roommate!)) what is was like to grow up "in the South." This explanation began with describing the most perfect Fall day in Athens, tailgating. This concept in itself took a long while to explain because of all the details including: how early you must wake up to secure a spot on tailgating premises; drinking keg beer and bloody marys/mimosas from Solo cups (which they thought was hilarious since its the stereotypical party staple in American movies); grilling out every meat possible, accompanied by a table full of potato salad (had no clue what this was), baked beans (served on sourdough toast with bacon as a breakfast item down here), and Chick-fil-a nuggets/lemonade/sweet tea (my excitement for this alone scared them a little I think). The overwhelming gasp at how many people Sanford Stadium holds left me glowing with pride. I promised them all that if they made their way to the USA and DIDN'T go to a Southern college football game, they would truly miss out.

After all the hype of college football, I got a dose of humility pie when watching the Ireland/USA rugby game (but who else in the world besides AUS, NZ, England, France and South Africa watches or even cares about rugby!?) I had no idea what was going on, there was not method to the madness - and we lost terribly, but we had some "great defense" (according to the other spectators around me.) This followed by my continued misuse of the word "football" (soccer) and my cracks at how great a rugby (these guys are masssssive) vs. NFL game would be to watch (NFL apparently wouldn't stand a chance based on the "mattresses" they get to wear during their games.)

All this combined with Samantha Stosur, the Australian underdog who beat Serena Williams this past weekend in the 2011 US Open, and the Bears destroying the Falcons did not leave my head high for too long - I got dished a big dose of humble pie for my over-excitement about American sports.

There is one saving grace, and a great reason I love being here in Australia. It's called Footy. Footy in the best way I can describe it is a combination of: running the amount of soccer games, tackling (with no pads) and method of scoring like rugby (or NFL), and high scoring like Basketball -- all on a massively large circular field. I mean, this field is so large, pigeons land on the unused sections and hang out for extended periods of time feeding off the grass seeds. Needless to say, these are amazingly in-shape (and very good looking) athletes. Not to mention - the uniform for footy players looks a bit like 1970's NBA uniforms. Now Australia, the state of Victoria in particular, is so big into footy (and very few places anywhere are) - that there is a team for every SUBURB in Victoria. I am continually being asked who I will "go for" - but that I can't be a bandwagon fan on whoever wins this year's Grand Final and does not necessarily have to be the team of the suburb you live in. It's a big deal here. They even have scarfs knitted with their team names.

There have been 3 very distinctly different scenarios which I have interacted in someway with footy since I have arrived.

Scenario 1:
Me being the worry wart that I am, thinking I would find nooo other job here, I signed onto a temp hospitality agency to work bar/restaurant/waiter shifts from time to time to make some money. My first shift (last minute - meaning I had 30 minutes to shower and get into the CBD) was working in the Medallion level restaurant at the Ethihad footy stadium during the St. Kilda/Collingwood game (two suburbs close to the CBD.) It was a fun experience to play hostess to a large group of wealthy "members" and get glimpses of the game while having other temps explain the rules to me.

Scenario 2:
Just a few rows back from the "pitch" (the field) at the Geelong/Collingwood game. The people I was with were Collingwood fans, so naturally I cheered for them, and also naturally spotted the cutest player (and famed bad-boy #2: Chris Tarrant!) The game commences with all the fans singing the team song (which sound a lot like fraternity songs) and then the madness begins. The atmosphere feels just like being at an American football games, fans act the same way and are just as sore losers too. Collingwood was losing so badly that we ended up leaving early, being boo-ed out of the stadium (I so badly wanted to say "I'm American, I don't really care!!) But needless to say - it was an amazing experience to see the game live and experience what the hype is all about.

Scenario 3:
Another temp role. Except this was as a cocktail serving at a AFL (Australian Football League) event where one of the players was being interviewed and a lot of high-end people who are members of various teams mingled with fancy hors d'oeuvres and drinks. I was running late from work so I had to rush to get changed, throw on a black tie (yes, I had to wear a tie) and run up to the event. I was opening up and pouring champagne when they pulled me into the back to start taking plates of hors d'oeuvres around to all the guests. Out with the first platter (these things had to of weighed 15 pounds each!), all the food was scooped up almost immediately so I turned to go back into the kitchen when the door swung open, and WHAM. I collided with another server coming out, knocking my platter unsteady in my hands and sending the bowl of tomato sauce (ketchup) that was the dip for the meat pies I was carrying (yes, they eat meat pies dipped in ketchup - sick!), to the floor. Bouncing off the other server's foot, the bowl unfortunately did not break, but did make a grand splash not only all over the floor , but up onto the back of the stage narrowly concealing the kitchen to the rest of the room, the entire wall along the kitchen, up onto an extremely expensive painting hanging in the event venue (a part of a temporary art installation currently being displayed.) My attempt at making a good first impression: FAIL. I used almost an entire roll of paper towels to quickly wipe up the damage before having another tray shoved at me and hurried back into the crowd. I became known as crazy tie girl by the end of the night and had little hope of redeeming myself (especially when intoxicated old me asked if they could take pictures with me.)

All three scenarios - completely different (and somewhat humiliating) experiences, but all in the name of footy. My weekend of sports came to an end, along with my American sports pride, but there is always this coming weekend to look forward to, and hopefully a second chance at cocktail serving and not making a fool of myself.