I have the fever

Is it just me, or does regular, vanilla-grade Aussie Rules Football seem pedestrian and ho hum these days?

However, our beloved game of legalized assault and glorified bogan sleazebags doesn’t seem so great when compared with the biggest festival in the world, the Football World Cup.

Now that Australia is on the world’s stage, it is a chance for us to wake up and realize that the game isn’t played by fancy-footed poofs. Admittedly, I never cared much for soccer (football) until recently, however by the same token my interest in Australian Rules Football has been waning since I gave it up in 1997, citing knee injury and the fact that I wasn’t going any further with it.

Soccer is a much more streamlined game than our convoluted sport. In Australian Rules, players are penalized for a matter based on subjectivity and the perspective of the umpire. Did he have his hand in his back? Or was it more in his side? Was the ball hit out of bounds deliberately, or was it unavoidable? Did he have a chance to get rid of the ball before he was tackled?

It’s a frustrating game to watch. And all these rules seem to frustrate supporters and lends an air of aggression to any game I witness… either at the stadium or at the pub.

Soccer, on the other hand, is very definite. It is quite obvious when a foul is committed. If the ball goes out of play, the other team gets the ball. If the ball is in the net, it (more often than not) is a goal, and the dry rooting can commence.

But at least now Australians can actually see what it is like to support a team PROPERLY!

The Poms have their Barmy Army, a ragtag group of boisterous yet high-spririted louts, whose off-the-cuff songs and drum beating are infectious and awe-inspiring. The Brazilians have supporters in their capoeira dancers, drum beaters, singers and theatre performers. The Argentineans have confetti. Lots and lots of confetti.

What do we have? Drunk people who want to fight and the insipid “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie… Oi, Oi, Oi…”

Firstly, I hated that chant back in high school, in where it was pronounced “zigga, zagga, zigga, zagga,… oi, oi, oi.”. Secondly… it means fucking nothing.

Not only do we have the identity crisis that requires us to shout our nationality verbally (instead of being able to tell who we are by looking at us like the Americans, the Brazilians and… well… every-fucking-one else), but we then need to draw attention to ourselves by shouting “Oi” not once or twice… but three times.

I think this chant was invented by an Australian at soccer game where he was trying to get some attention and be taken seriously.

“I’m an Aussie… aussie… Ausss-sssie… hey, pay attention to me… oi!... Oi! Hey you! Oi!”

However, I was heartened to initially hear bugger all of this chant at the Australia-Japan match, but I did hear it emanate part way through the second half.

My little heart sank. I have never experienced a high and then have it taken away so quick, excepting the time I saw a girl checking me out only to have her friend come up to her and say, “You know, your problem is that you choose the good-looking, but stupid ones…”. In one sentence she both brought my esteem up and then shot it down…

Again, I was hopeful with this morning’s Brazil-Australia game. News reported that Australians were well behaved and actually took the gentle ribbing from the Brazilian fans with good humour. I was hoping that Australians would stop taking themselves so seriously and realize the true meaning of good-sportmanship (we are an embittered lot).

And then Sam Newman gets spat on... by Australian fans.

Sure, it couldn’t have happened to a better ignoramus, but honestly… how pathetic is that?

But Football seems to be taking off here. People are genuinely getting into the game. We are realizing that these old excuses of “Oh they don’t score any goals” and “Oh it’s boring” are stupid and not actually relevant to the appeal of the game. I don’t think we actually “got it” until we actually had a team we cared about.

Soccer is about the drama. The tension. The build up… the edge-of-the-seat, nail-chomping knowledge that the game can change at any moment… and then the huge rush of euphoria when a goal is scored… or the incredible low in the face of defeat. We never knew this… Admittedly, I never knew this, until I actually, genuinely cared about the result.

Johnny Warren was right. He told us so.

(I do apologise for calling Football “Soccer”… I’m only trying to differentiate it from Australian Rules “football”, which actually and ironically involves a lot of fists… but let’s not get me started on calling Rugby “football”, as it’s a sport in where the feet are mostly used for stomping on other players’ heads – and you can only stomp on their heads, because none of those players have necks.)