Timbo, making his 2006 debut, takes his first hit up for the Raiders
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All I Wanted Was A Day On The Hill...
All I wanted was a day on the hill. Watch the boys run round. Who cares if we win? As I'm always telling people, you go for the event, it's football, not life or death. You go to sit, relax, enjoy the company of friends, and if you're lucky, maybe your side wins. Just a bit of fun, that's what a day at the footy is all about.
Times are changing though. I'm told it's for the better. I'm told it makes this great game of ours better. I'm not convinced. I have a mate who used to be a passionate St.Kilda supporter, back in the olden days of the VFL. He doesn't care at all about them anymore. “Once they left Morrabin, that was it for me”, he said. I'm starting to wonder if maybe he's onto something.
So you pack the car, and set out for the long drive to the game. Parking's a nightmare, but what else is new? In the distance-there it is. This is what we came for! So we grab our esky from the boot, and set out for the hallowed ground, where this afternoon, we'll have a few drinks, and see the game that we love.
So we get to the ticketbox, and ask for two on the hill. “You mean general admission, don't you sir”, the twelve year old behind the desk asks. I guess that's what they call it these days. I say yes, and ask her if it's full yet. I get a snort in reply. Oh well, I think to myself, I guess some people just don't appreciate the game. As I'm heading for the turnstile, I get my first shock of the day. “Can I see in there, sir” heavyset gentleman in an overcoat asks, gesturing to my esky. I'm a little peeved that he thinks I'm bringing something illegal into the ground, but I show him anyway. “I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate all of this, sir”, he says, removing the entire contents of my esky. I protest, but all I get is “ground policy, sir”, as he shuffles me out of the way. Oh well, I think, I won't let it ruin my day. I go through the turnstile, hoping I haven't missed 3rd grade's kickoff, and that I'll still be able to get a spot on the hill.
Hill? What hill. I discover to my horror, that the entire ground has become a gigantic concrete bowl, with not a blade of grass in sight, other than the playing surface. I ask the ground attendant, what happened to the hill? I get a blank stare in response. When I ask what “general admission” means, I'm told I can sit directly behind the goalposts. So much for arriving early to get a spot on halfway. We find a seat, which has even worse views than I first thought, and settle in for the day.
Fulltime rolls around in thirds, by which point we're getting pretty thirsty. I set off looking to replace the contents of my esky, and I find a bar, and order two beers and two meat pies. “Light beers only, sir” I'm told. I don't like it very much, but I take it anyway. I reach for my wallet, when my next shock arrives. “That'll be $22.50 please” she says. This can't be right? I only ordered two beers and two pies. The girl assures me, that is correct. I pay and return to my seat, assuring my companion that we won't be having anymore refreshments today.
Time ticks on, I wait for the ground to fill. First grade arrives, and it seems like there are barely any more people here now than nearly 4 hours ago when we arrived. The players run out, my God, are they wearing jerseys or t-shirt shaped billboards? The play is fast, but repetitive. Everyone is a backrower out there. The tactics never change, much like the shape of the 34 players. It was a close game-22-24-but I left gaining no enjoyment at all. As I trek back to the car, all I can think is, “how did this happen?”
I'm told that the game has changed, for the better, but I don't know. Repetitive play, rich-primadonas on the field, 34 identical players and a thousand times too expensive to go to every week. What's better about any of that?
All I wanted was a day on the hill.
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750 words, including title