Two Pommie Sheilas: The AFL grand final and how I learned to embrace it

Pulling into the shopping centre car park, I snag a prime spot right next to the entrance, hop out and breeze on in without a pause.

It isn’t until I’m two shops down that I emerge into brightly lit hallways, take a look around and wonder why it’s so quiet for a Saturday afternoon.

The muzak seems strangely muted and there’s a disturbing number of people in purple milling around the place.

Suddenly I hear a roar from inside one of the shops.

A small band of staff are huddled in front of a TV normally tuned to the big chain’s ad-filled drivel but today, as I can just see over their shoulders, it’s showing some sort of sporting match.

It was, of course, grand final day 2013. The Freo Dockers were playing Hawthorn, and Perth had whipped itself into a footy frenzy.

I was a newly imported Pom who had managed to completely miss the fuss and fail in one of the biggest Australian cultural assimilation milestones, my faux pas compounded by the fact I absolutely loathed sport of any kind if it didn’t involve snow and ice.

For a newbie, the furore surrounding the AFL grand final is completely inexplicable.

You’ll never understand it until you embrace it and get involved.

It’s not like it’s as important as the Grand National or the World Cup. Is it? Why are all these mad Australians banging on about a sport where you get points for nearly making it to the goal?

Fast forward five years, I’m now a fully fledged citizen and confirmed Australian Rules football convert.

No longer do the traditions of footy franks and beef pies leave me feeling sick to my stomach as I wonder what part of the animal I’m actually eating.

I now understand the concept of an ever-changing pitch size from ground to ground and am even, almost convincingly, able to discuss at length the absurdity of the deliberate out-of-bounds rule ... but only when it goes against us.

My husband, a staunch Eagles fan, is delighted I’m finally interested enough in the game that I’m actually excited about tomorrow’s extravaganza. The subtleties of the mid-match entertainment politics still elude me somewhat, but our eight-month-old daughter and I will be there in our blue and gold, if nothing else to support the main man in our lives on an important day for his beloved team.

Grand final day is just such an Australian thing. You’ll never understand it until you embrace it and get involved.

So to all the newly arrived; go on, grab a beer, a snag and get your butt out of the empty shopping centre and in front of a television. It’ll be a spectacle you won’t want to miss.

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