It was a great night at the SCG on Saturday night. A real carnival atmosphere, as you’d expect with so many Collingwood fans employed in the carny industry.
The high-viz staff outside were typically enthusiastic, ushering walking patrons off Driver Avenue, a road already closed to traffic.
The bouncers at the outdoor pop-up were mathematically confused, leaving the open-air establishment nearly empty and a massive queue outside. It’s always a good idea to have at least one employee who can count.
Before the game, the Swans had young men walking around outside on stilts, faces painted red, blowing saxophones and trumpets. Not to be outdone there were young women on stilts (or stilettos) from Collingwood too. They were blowing too, smoke rings from their Winfield Reds.
The random searching when entering the ground was less than random. Let’s just say deeply-ingrained prejudices meant only Collingwood fans were given the pat-down and metal detector treatment.
Security got me and I wondered if the most dangerous man at the ground had suffered the same ignominious fate. Eddie McGuire’s not so much physically threatening, but what comes out of his mouth is alarming. He’s the Donald Trump of Australian sport now. Eddie’s most recent foray into verbal stupidity involved a suggestion so dumb even Jeff Kennett wouldn’t have made it.
On Saturday night’s form, however, the Magpies will be competing for a wooden spoon before they ever play for an Adam Goodes Medal. My guess is the Swans would rather strike up an agreement with the anyone else before turning to Eddie McGuire.
If I was a Collingwood player I’d be asking my president for some of what he’s on, because it’s obviously more effective than whatever they are alleged to have taken during their free time in the off-season.
Still, not everything Eddie does is weird. What a masterstroke in adding one year to Nathan Buckley’s contract. Richmond did it for Damien Hardwick too. It’s a new trend in footy – how to keep the media at bay without actually endorsing your coach.
Once inside the ground I was immediately glad the AFL had slashed food prices at the MCG in 2015. I’d have been even gladder were I in Melbourne on Saturday night and not Sydney where a tiny sausage roll and Coke only cost me half a week’s rent.
I would have had a beer, but the SCG, rather selfishly, only catered for Sydney and Collingwood fans (extreme ends of the socio-economic spectrum) and I’d sooner be caught wearing a pair of those ridiculous rubber exercise shoes which have an individual compartment for each toe than drinking a Pure Blonde like a yuppie Swans fan.
And don’t even get me started on the VB available for the Magpie faithful. I’d almost rather drink lite-beer. Almost.
Surprisingly, the Collingwood players appeared on the field with hair on their heads. I would have had money on Eddie demanding they all got Richmond-era Ben Cousins haircuts, just to let the people at ASADA know that unlike Essendon, Collingwood truly are a law unto themselves.
The footy was great. Pretty even too. Well, the first 38 seconds were, until Buddy sorted that out. I would have seen the kick too if not for the 30 late-arriving Collingwood fans standing up in front of me trying to work out who was sitting where. Maybe they’d gone to the same school as the bouncers outside. In their defence, seating allocations at the SCG do require both English and mathematical knowledge.
I also saw a big-name celebrity at the game; Travis Cloke. Like me, he just seemed to be there as a spectator.
So Buddy’s back with a vengeance and Collingwood are worth going to see, if for no other reason than you’ll come home with improved self-esteem having sat among their supporters for three hours.
Me, I’ll be back in two weeks for the GWS game. I can’t wait to join all those really nice Swans fans in sending Adam Goodes off. I can’t believe how lucky he is to have played for the only club in Australia without a single racist supporter.
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