Collingwood v Carlton

I was very excited about seeing us play our rivals at the MCG (though it does appear that nearly every team is a 'rival') especially as we were going to the game with an actual Collingwood supporter. The dirty pie! Jay had taught Big Red how to kick a footy when he first moved to Melbourne as a teenager and they were at high school together. He was wearing an original Collingwood vest from the 1980s, and I don't think he was actually expecting me to be at the game, which highlights Big Red's exceptional social skills. It was all cool, though, once we had a few beers lined up.

Which brings me to my first problem: drinking beer AND watching the footy.

I have yet to master this skill, which most men pride themselves on, or at least take for granted. Every time I cheered, I spilt my beer. My mother would have been horrified as she views beer spillage as a crime. Other times, I tried to precariously wedge my beer between my knees so I could at least clap, which resulted in beer all over my legs and bag. One beer I placed by feet and then promptly kicked over. By this time I had definitely drunk too much beer.

The second problem was that our seats were behind the goal and I couldn't always see what was going, and I definitely couldn't see what was going on when all the players started fighting. The guy sitting next to me ( "Hi! Who are you barracking for?" "Carlton" "Cool!") nudged my arm and told me Fevola needed stitches. Carlton were leading by half time, but the game was close. A much better Collingwood team emerged after the break, and with Carlton looking tired, were soon leading.


The atmosphere was amazing as the Collingwood supporters cheered their team to victory.


Devastating.