Saturday, May 14, 2011
The Great Divider
You know what they say; you can choose your friends but not your family. They also say you can’t choose who you fall in love with. Hell; they are certainly true. But the friends we choose and the lovers we allow access into our lives, all come with a great divider.
I figure it should be something you confess up front because let’s face it; who you barrack for is supposed to say a lot about who you are. Collingwood = no teeth, probably comes from Frankston and wears moccasins. Melbourne = a little snotty and just a tad too good for the rest of us. The list goes on really; Footscray, the working class west.
To be honest, I’d never heard the Squeeze breath a word about football. I’d never seen a scarf emerge, nor any reference to any particular grand final; so I was mildly surprised to discover he barracked for Collingwood.
I’m not sure how committed he is to the “supporting” of the team. He doesn’t own a scarf and has all his own teeth so it can’t be too firmly ingrained I suppose. Kid 3 once barracked for Footscray I think, then switched to St Kilda; and now says he doesn’t follow AFL – so that shows no firm commitment right there.
My kids, all three, have ‘blue and white” blood. Most of my family are also Cat fans. I didn’t remember the ’63 grand final since I was about one but I remembered the 2007 grand final sure enough. We’d been to four losing ones and they stick in your mind…
My mother, well into her 60’s trundled off after the game to fulfil a lifelong bet; when we win the flag, we would get a ‘Cats’ tattoo. In fact she was the only one of us that did and made it to the news filming this old duck squeaking off to a tattoo parlour. It was quite funny and to be honest, pretty cool.
But I regress. So last night, the Squeeze and I and Daughter and her Squeeze, also a Collingwood fan go off for a night in the freezing cold to bond. The boyfriend is actually amazingly quiet. Getting a sentence from him is like pulling teeth. We get into the ground and it was white line fever. He’s on his feet shouting “ball!” to the point where I worried he would lose his footing and roll from the top of the great southern stand!
And every goal we missed; they would turn and grin at us. Every goal they got, the Squeeze would just look at me and smile. Not a real smile, one of those smug “stuff that” kind of smiles.
But of course as in all good fairy tales, reality is an ugly thing.
The last quarter saw our team prevail and daughter and I were on our feet, singing the song over and over.
Weird. But the Squeeze’s sat; rather subdued. Not a smile in sight!
Posted by Mistress at 5:42 PM