Last Saturday I finished my piece of Vegemite on toast and cup of tea at 8.50am and headed for the car.
It’s Saints v West Coast day and I was following my regular plan…five minute drive to Ballarat Train Station, park and train to Southern Cross in approx. an hour and fifteen minutes.
The game was 1.10pm, so I always like to get there a couple of hours early to feast on all manner of non-essential foods, low in nutrition but high in gratification.
I hopped in the car and headed off only to discover the Ballarat Marathon was happening and all roads getting across the main drag Sturt St, were blocked.
Instead of thinking about an alternative route, all thoughts led to the possibility of me missing the 9.20am train so I panicked and returned home. If only I hadn’t thrown out that piece of paper from the council three weeks ago clearly identifying alternative routes.
I left the keys with Lynda and started walking the 800m to the station. Half way there I realised I’d left my phone in the car. I stopped immediately. Do I go back knowing I will miss the train or do I forsake not having any money for the day?
Public transport is free in Vic at the moment so that wouldn’t be an issue. What might be, would be the fact I’d have no social media, Kayo, radio or food for the next nine hours. Stuff it, I’ll take the former.
The only saving grace was that I have this man-bag that I use for trips to Melbourne that can hold a book, a notebook, pen and my Saints membership card, another blessing given all my Saints member stuff was on the phone also.
Continuing my recent obsession with Elvis having seen Epic four times, I’m half way through the second volume of his biography called Careless Love so I hooked into that on the train which distracted me from food.
Arriving at Southern Cross I head to the bridge which connects the DFO food hall to Marvel. The aromas emanating from that well catered for concrete expanse immediately sparked an uneasy and painful sensation in my guts.
(Must block it, must block it) I head to Marvel thinking it’s only an hour to the game and I can’t smell anything down there, when I realise the game starts in two hours because I had originally planned to indulge in my normal gorging of all the food groups; hotdog, pie, donuts and milkshake.
Need the toilet now so head to the familiar DFO dunnies but have to pass the donut shop and the food hall. The smells of the food hall are all encompassing and I think I’m going to faint. Having money in life now seems quite important.
A visit to the toilet and a drink of water at the sink will have to do for now. To stave off some time I walk around the DFO and spot a couple of things for the kids I know they’d like. That’s right I have no money.
I head back to Marvel and read some more Elvis sitting on a concrete block near gate 5. People are starting to queue thankfully.
Twenty minutes later I’m in my reserved seat alone and staring at a groundsman throwing fertiliser on the grass from a bucket while the very annoying music is blaring.
Here’s an idea AFL. How about playing a women’s or U/19 game, ANYTHING before the main game rather than light shows and announcers that scream into a microphone!
The grounds are that manicured these days there’s no chance of them getting chopped up like they were in the old days.
Add this to the list AFL, the list which appears to be lost in your incessant complacency when it comes to listening to the most devoted and passionate fans in Australian sport. You know? The people that prop up your junkets and designer suits every year.
And then there’s this new pre-game ritual at The Saints, the ‘knock, knock’, ‘who’s there?’. Dear me, you can’t be serious. Believe me, we are the most self-deprecating supporters on earth, but this is downright embarrassing.
Hunger pains spiralling, the game starts but I have my report for The Footy Almanac keeping me busy as do the conversations with my wonderful fellow supporters Sylvia, Michael and Maryann.
Fortunately there is a ‘bubbler’ a short walk from my seat so I am able to hydrate but I can feel a headache coming on which gathers steam on the way home on the train.
I walk home from the Ballarat Train Station and it’s 6pm. I ask Lynda to get me the BBQ Shapes from the pantry as I retrieve the phone from the car.
As I turn it on I can see that there are a couple of insignificant messages that don’t need follow up and that’s it. I hadn’t missed anything. Anything else I would have looked at can only have amounted to pointless social media and doom scrolling.
There was no question that not having the phone kept me in the moment like the old days when we all just ‘people watched’ when we were bored. No defaulting to a screen.
Of course reading a book is something I try and do more these days but I was fully engaged more than usual without the phone.
So my learning from the day is to do more without the blasted phone but remember to take at least a $50 ‘pineapple’ with me to avoid pilfering food from unsuspecting punters at the footy. Go Saints!
