Culture – By Way of Sports – Australia

By: Drew Grewal

Culture – By Way of Sports
Australia
By Drew Grewal

When traveling abroad, most people believe that sampling the indigenous cuisine or visiting the area attractions will provide them with an accurate glimpse of local culture. However, in my experience, the best way to truly sample the culture is to forget the restaurants and museums and head to the stadium.

There’s nothing like sports to put things into perspective. They are current and evolving, not something dead and static that you’d find on a museum wall or your dinner plate. Sports also give you the chance to see the native people in their natural environment – off the beaten tourist path.

In Afghanistan, for example, Buzkashi, a game similar to polo but played with a headless goat carcass instead of a ball, can really accentuate the differences between Afghani and American culture. Yet, even in Anglophonic Australia, one can focus on sports to get a true taste of pop culture, uncorrupted by the perennial popularity of soccer and the new international interest in basketball. That’s why, when I was in Melbourne, I went to “the footy.” No, it has nothing to do with “footsie.”

“The footy,” also known as “Australian rules football,” is an odd game that appears to be a seriously dangerous combination of rugby, American football and general thuggery. It is played on an enormous oblong field about twice as long and twice as wide as an American football field. Eighteen players attempt to score by drop-kicking a bloated rugby ball through two sets of uprights at either end of the field before getting viciously assaulted by their hulking opponents (no pads or helmets).

There seem to be no rules designating the tackling of players by their opponents and the brutality with which many of the players are hit. This led me to briefly contemplate the average lifespan of the Australian football player. Strangely enough, they seem to have more teeth than your average NHL player or inhabitant of Arkansas.

The game lasts well over two hours. The crowd never loses steam or leaves early, regardless of the score. This particular game had about 90,000 people in attendance (which must have been something like 10 percent of the population) who sustained a general deafening roar from the kick-off to the final whistle.

The match I attended was a semi-final that pitted the Collingwood Magpies against the Adelaide Crows. Somehow birds Down Under are scarier to the populace than any of the thousands of bizarre and deadly animals that inhabit this country. Before I could contemplate why someone would pick a crow as their mascot over, say, a crocodile, I was quickly informed by my gracious Australian hostess that Collingwood “supporters” (fans) are all “bogans” – a cross between rednecks and general losers.

I didn’t understand until I experienced the guy in front of us. He had a nicely shaped mullet that looked like he had once had uniformly long hair, but had just recently cut just one-scissor length off the sides of his head, leaving the rest long. Needless to say, he was one of the notorious Collingwood supporters – a true bogan! Between mouthfuls of small meat pies (an Aussie favorite), he proceeded to stand up and yell obscenities after every blow of the whistle, whether it was a call against Collingwood or merely the end of the quarter.

I couldn’t really understand a word that came out of his mouth, but I inferred from context the nature of his remarks. To make things even more bizarre, we were sitting in the comparatively tame “members” section where men are required to wear collared shirts. That got me thinking. Wasn’t this the same country where a criminal record was your entrance visa?

My mind quickly turned back to the game as I heard a simultaneous groan from the crowd. One of the Magpies, who looked more like a rag doll, was leveled after being blindsided by one of his colossal opponents. As the poor fellow was carried off the field in a flatbed golf cart, I began to think more about Australian culture and this strangely fascinating game.

In my estimation, American sporting culture has a lot to learn from this Australian football. Aside from the diehard enthusiasm of the fans that keeps them bellowing for hours on end, something that makes “the footy” and its fans so great is that each team has their own anthem. These songs are inventive, too, with one proclaiming the team to be the “pride of South Australia,” while another is even sung to the tune of the Marseillaise. I think sports in the U.S. could definitely use some theme songs, but then again, most of them would probably end up being self-aggrandizing, obscene rap songs instead melodic anthems.

Also, each Australian football team, like every other foreign sports team in the world, has its own flag that frenzied supporters wave furiously at every game. At the match I attended, there must have been thousands of flags. There may have even been a law requiring them. We need more flags at our sporting events. And I don’t just mean the American flag, but individual team flags. I suggest they not be sold in any dimensions smaller than fifty feet by fifty feet. If they’re this big, they could be used to be thrown upon fickle fans absconding from the venue early.

After the match, in which Collingwood was victorious, my Aussie hosts took me to downtown Melbourne to the Clip Clop Club, where an old, blind and mostly toothless man served free beers and sang an ode to “Kylie’s Ass,” (a reference to the backside of Australia’s most famous singer). Bars aren’t a bad place to experience local culture at its finest. Next time you’re abroad, pick the stadium or a bar over the fancy restaurant if you really want an exciting taste of the local culture – especially if it’s packed with bogans!

On the way back to my friend’s house, they told me that they had Australian friends living in the U.S. who had started “footy” leagues and maybe I should join. Never one to act the coward, I replied enthusiastically, praising them for such a great idea. In reality, however, I would probably be much safer hitting myself repeatedly over the head with a mallet than join an Australian football league. But I kept that thought to myself. Later, as I was on my way to bed, I tried to formulate an opinion of Australia. All I could muster was that I was somewhat shocked yet hopelessly entertained.