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In case you missed it, the MCG earlier this week waved the white flag in its battle with Tullamarine Airport for the title of Worst-Value Eatery in Melbourne.
In a rare acknowledgement that the average home’s income has barely kept pace with CPI increases, let alone footy player salaries, the Melbourne Cricket Club and hospitality partner Epicure announced across the board price slashes so impressive that Status Quo are no doubt tuning up their guitars.
Think $5.60 for a bucket of soggy chips is a bit steep? Try $4.00. Ten bucks for a schnitty between two lukewarm pieces of dry bread? Make that $7.50. Need something to carry those beers back up the steep incline to the nosebleeds of the Great Southern Stand? Put that dollar coin away, they’ll now chuck a tray in for nix.
In one of those strange quirks of modern commerce, a 500ml bottle of water will still cost a ridiculous $3, down from last year’s ‘tell ‘em they’re dreaming’ price tag of $5.00. Which means that water – the resource which at last count covers 71 per cent of the earth’s surface and growing, if climate scientists are to be believed – still costs roughly four times as much as unleaded petrol, though we didn’t send the boys in to Iraq and Afghanistan so we could have cheap water, now, did we?
The point is, this is big. Bigger than Jarryd Hayne inking a deal with the 49ers. Bigger than the Australian cricket selectors finally benching Watto. Bigger than the grin plastered across NRL CEO Dave Smith’s face whenever he adjusts the sign above his desk to read “two days since last off-field incident”.
Why stop this ‘back to the future’ approach at water?
If the nation’s most iconic stadium, which hosts its best attended football code, thinks nothing of winding bottled water prices back to 2001 levels, the domino effect across the Australian sporting landscape could be cataclysmic.
2001 was a golden year for Australian sport and administrators could do worse than look to the past to move forward.
Cricket could identify Shane Watson as a rare talent, then let him spend the best part of a decade knocking the door down with his Sheffield Shield performances before rushing him into the big kids’ dressing room.
Rugby league could do away with the second referee, award teams one competition point each if scores are level at fulltime, reinstate the Northern Eagles for comic relief, and turn a blind eye if a Clive Churchill winner decided to get on the Gary Abletts to wind down after a big game.
Basketball could have franchises based in such exotic locales as West Sydney, Brisbane and Canberra, though of course they’d have the option of the latter team playing out of Newcastle for a season or two, then uprooting to Singapore, because NBL logic.
Rugby union could throw the chequebook at ageing rugby league stars. What could possibly go wrong?
Soccer could… well, soccer is probably much happier where it is now, thank you very much.
Or perhaps every professional sporting team could just get on the blower to their stadium’s caterer and have them follow the MCG’s lead?
And introduce craft beer while they’re at it. Flavourless mid-strength is so 2001.
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