Nobody likes a spoiler. The premature revelation of a movie plot frustrates like nothing else. It happens to all us; we go see a film with a friend, only for them to accurately “predict” the ending, midway through.
Such an “educated guess” ruins the remainder of our cinema experience.
After all, our primary means of enjoyment comes from that element of surprise.
Football is no different; knowing the result of a delayed game severely compromises our faux-live experience.
While the knowledge of a win may be satisfying in itself, one attains far more pleasure from watching the match unfold.
From the first quarter heartbreaks to the final minute triumphs, football is best enjoyed with no synopsis, script, or trailer. Football is best enjoyed live.
Due to work commitments, I was unable to follow my beloved Demons on Sunday. Geographic constraints prevented me from attending the match, while work protocols denied me the presence of television or radio.
My only option was to resign myself to intermittent score updates. Either that, or become a hermit, and wait half a day for the broadcast to be replayed online.
I choose the latter.
One of the problems is, I work at the football (but not at the MCG, otherwise this story would be downright ridiculous). In this environment, live scores are commonplace and television screens are in abounds.
It is hence impossible to avoid contact with the football scores.
Unless, of course, you are determined to avoid them.
At two-thirty I was told to go on my break. In normal circumstances, such a command would bring me great pleasure. This time, though, I felt a little uneasy.
My route to the tea room took me around the oval’s perimeter, past the masses of Carlton and Sydney supporters. It also took me past the abundance of television monitors, each one proudly displaying the half-time results for the MCG game.
I sunk my face to the floor, scared that my eyes may betray me and take a peek at the scores. Thankfully, they behaved. But it was still no use.
“Melbourne’s up at half time,” revealed one of my colleagues, unaware of my predicament. I didn’t know how to react.
On one hand, I was enraged. WHY WOULD YOU RUIN THE SCORES?!?, my inner voice yelled.
At the same time, though, I was overjoyed. My team, after all, was winning! I’d take an invisible Demon victory over a loss, any day of the week.
More importantly, this was the extent of my colleague’s disclosure. He had revealed to me no scores, no goalkickers, no nothing.
My only news was a vague half-time report of the winning team. I can deal with that, I convinced myself. My efforts to filter out updates resumed.
The situation became more and more complicated as the day wore on.
When passing by Richmond station on the train home, I was wary not to lift my head. I knew that even the smallest semblance of colour could reveal to me a great deal.
Much to my relief, only a few people entered my carriage. While I didn’t dare to take notice of their attire, I couldn’t smell any red and blue, nor purple in the air.
Such an absence suggested that neither team was being thrashed, an ambiguous inference I could live with. My vow of ignorance thus continued.
Another dilemma arose in the afternoon, when I was set to meet up a group of friends. Upon greeting them, though, I hopped straight onto the front foot.
“If you know the results, don’t tell me,” replaced my customary salutation. “I’m watching the replay afterwards,” came my subsequent justification.
Indeed, none of my mates knew the results. Either that, or they were nice enough not to tell me.
My obsession with not knowing the scores may have puzzled them, but at least they were loyal enough to humour me.
One of my friend’s choices of radio stations in his car likewise worked in my favour. On any other day, I would lambasted him for his embarrassing selection of music.
Today, though, Pink and Rihanna suited me just fine. Just so long as their lyrics steered clear of football.
The night wore on with a self-imposed ban of media. All radios and television were switched off. Facebook, meanwhile, remained a definite no-go zone. In the event of an emergency, I decided not to part ways with my mobile phone.
I nevertheless treated every incoming message with utmost trepidation, wary that a non-existent Fremantle acquaintance might try to contact me.
Having disengaged myself from the outside world, an early night ensued. I wrapped myself under the blankets and celebrated my mini-victory. I had made it through ten hours without a score update. All I needed now was to get through the night.
During my sleep, Melbourne and Fremantle contested a few dozen matches. In one game, Matthew Pavlich starred with ten goals. In another, Garry Lyon blazed away with a bag of six.
In the meantime, I found myself grabbing a fair bit of the fantasy football; over the course of the night I must have won at least fifty possessions.
Around 7am a series of alarms – not the radio – snapped me back into reality. I’m not usually one for Monday mornings. But football changes everything.
Before the thought of breakfast even penetrated my consciousness, the replay was blaring through my laptop.
What followed was one-hundred and twenty minutes of bliss.
One-hundred and twenty minutes of live bliss.
Ben Carter
Roar Guru
Hi Kevin - I have suffered likewise. My Mum told me we lost to Uruguay back in 2001. I taped it to watch at 8am before going to uni. She told me the result while I was barely 30 minutes into the viewing. Tears in my eyes all the way to Magill campus that day... A couple of years ago I attended a work conference which included a stay at a convention centre. Other attendees managed to tell me who won the Champions League final on the Thursday morning (I was going to watch the 10pm replay). I have an agreement with my best mate - he can either tell me who won a match OR the score. NOT both. That way I at least have something unexpected to watch a replay for! :-)
Kevin Hawkins
Roar Pro
Too true. Although it does seem weird to think that Melbourne are so inconsistently consistent that they're now predictable.
Kevin Hawkins
Roar Pro
Thanks for that link. That was a great read.
woodsman
Guest
I was just relieved to hear you managed to get all the way through- all too many times have I been foiled just before I would get the chance to watch 'live'.
The Cattery
Roar Guru
Great story Kevin!
Lee McDonald
Roar Guru
You beat me to it Tony. I read that Grantland article last week and this one by Kevin instantly made me think of it. The Grantland article really does sum up a lot of the reasons why we all crave our sport to be live. The AFL broadcasting all games live from the start of the next TV deal is definitely a step in the right direction. Good piece Kevin. I am sure we can all relate!
Tony
Guest
This article on live TV sport versus delayed TV sport is well worth a read: Space, Time and DVR Mechanics.
apaway
Guest
Ah, Kevin, the lament of the replay watcher. I like to watch the Sunday rugby league replay but have one particularly obnoxious "friend" who insists on calling me the moment the full time score is known - about 30 minutes into the broadcast. As an avid English FA Cup fan, I have watched every match live on TV since 1972. Except for one. The 1992 final between Liverpool and Sunderland saw me stuck in a region of NSW where the SBS signal was non-existent. The next day I returned to Sydney to play in a State League game. Upon entering the dressing room, I put on what I hoped was an intimidating stare and said, "The first person to mention last night's result gets my boot up their a***." Whether my team mates regarded me seriously or just as a normal unhinged keeper, they complied, and to show I was not a total mongrel, I thanked them for their consideration at the end of the day and walked to my car in the stadium car park. It was one of the only ones left, instantly recognisable because someone (one of the U19 players as it transpired) had tied red streamers to every available door handle and antenna, and had planted a big piece of cardboard with "Liverpool 2-0" on the windscreen. The late great Rex Mossop had the best solution: He simply refused to give the score of the replay game on the news report.
Tristan Rayner
Editor
Well said, Wagga Magpie.
Wagga Magpie
Guest
"And if you don't want to know the score, look away now.....f*ck me what a drubbing! Australia win by 112-4, with England's points coming from the boot of Shaun Edwards with 4 field goals"
RichT
Guest
I'm a NZ rugby fan and I had an exam on the morning after the All Blacks vs France match during the 1999 Rugby World Cup. I decided not to watch the overnight match, instead deciding to record the match, rest up and have a good night's sleep, then watch the match uninterrupted and stress-free after my exam. The next morning I deliberately avoided all human contact so as not to know ANYTHING about the match. As you can imagine, this is not easy to do in NZ. When I reached the exam room I thought I had made it. Imagine my horror then when the exam supervisor decided to tell the room that THE ALL BLACKS HAD LOST!!! I felt like throttling the guy, not because the ABs lost but because he felt he needed to tell the world. For the next 3 hours I couldn't help thinking about the game, hoping perhaps that I was in a dream and the exam supervisor didn't say what I thought I heard him say. After the exam was over, I went home and watched the game. Sure enough, the ABs lost, but it sure did ruin the anticipation and enjoyment and feeling of "watching it live".
Brett McKay
Guest
Kevin, only on Friday night I recorded the Broncos-Dragons NRL game to watch after the Rebels-Force Super Rugby game, and as I started viewing back the recorded game, I fired up my laptop to do some other stuff at the same time. IE fires up too, and as one of my home page tabs, Twitter decides to play God with me and puts the Broncos-Dragons score right there at the top of the column. My replay was barely 90 seconds old....
Bayman
Guest
Yep, finding out the result prematurely can be painful. Back in 1993 the Crows were in the preliminary final against the Bombers. I had to work all day and deliberately kept clear of anything which may betray the result. The better half was under strict instructions to record the game on video so I could watch it later that night. Home I came to be greeted with the news that the replay was all set to go and I could watch it at my leisure. Imagine my delight as the Crows destroyed the Bombers in the first half. Forty odd points in front, glass of wine in hand, the little lady at my side - life could not get better than this. Come half time and the little lady gets up and says, "Well, that's enough for me, I'm off to bed!" Incredulous, I say "What? Don't you want to watch the second half?" That's when she said, "I've already seen it. All I can say is don't get too excited". I then spent the next hour or so waiting and watching as Essendon came over the top and pinched it. The most miserable hour I've spent. She didn't tell me the score but she didn't have to. Different, but similar, was the time I went to see the movie, The Godfather. I had the misfortune to be sitting behind a family who clearly had trouble keeping up. All through the movie the man's wife kept asking, "Who's that guy?" "Which part of the family does he come from?" "Is he related to anyone?" "Wasn't he killed earlier?" I wish she'd gone to bed half way through.
Redb
Roar Guru
Thank God the end of the delayed game is nigh.
Matt F
Guest
In fairness given what melbourne have done this season, and given how badly they got belted by collingwood, it was guaranteed they would beat freo. It also means that (spoiler alert!) you will most likely get belted by the tigers this week, then beat whoever you play after that. it seems to be the melbourne way at the moment... Just like my beloved swans beating the teams below them yet never beating a top 4 side, some things are just meant to be.