NRL Grand Final

Sunday was going to be a big day. I had one channel in Papua New Guinea. This channel brought me Rugby League. I watched it religiously every Friday night and Sunday afternoon and had become a fan. Rugby League is a good blend of athletic skill, precision passing and controlled violence. When the game opens up, and these fast men are racing down the field, flinging the ball to their mates at full speed while eluding defenders, it is a beautiful thing.


Telstra Stadium

The Grand Final was set to kick off Sunday night in Sydney. The venue was Telstra Stadium at Olympic Park – a sleek, 88,000 seat stadium erected for the 2000 Summer Olympics. I had two tickets, which a friend of mine had purchased for me online. The seats were not together (the explanation for this is boring and irrelevant) so I had one to sell. The tickets were easy to get – this is not the Super Bowl, where to get in you either have to have the type of connections nobody I know has or willing to spend $2500 for the worst seats in the house. Still, the League had an exciting season and the game was now sold out. Many people that I talked to were amazed that I had scored tickets, even though they had been on sale for months. I felt like I knew what I was doing.

The morning was a blur. I got on the city rail for transport to Olympic Park. It was a free ride for people going to the game. You were supposed to show your ticket but they let me slide, since I had to pick mine up at the box office. Fans of both sides were in force. And they were decked out. There was a definite buzz in the air that was palpable. This is why I love sport.

The game pitted the North Queensland Cowboys (North Coast) vs. West Tigers (Sydney). Of the 15 teams in the league, 7 of them are from Sydney. The sports popularity is limited to the New South Wales and Queensland States. (The rest of the country likes Australian Rules Football, which is a ridiculous sport. It’s basically a combination of ‘first bounce fly’, ‘keep away’ and ‘smear the queer’. It would probably be the all-time best game to play at recess during grade school. But it sucks to watch.) The fans were geared in either Tiger stripes or big, foam cowboy hats with matching vest and chaps. The energy was building.

It was a hot day. I set up shop at ‘The Brewery’, adjacent to the stadium and watched season highlights. I tried calling a few people that I knew would be there, but it was useless. I could not hear them and the pay phones continued to get the best of me. I promised a friend to visit these poles that listed all the volunteers’ names that helped out during the 2000 Olympics and find her name. I did. And then I looked for my name and was actually disappointed when I couldn’t find it. They have ‘special’ institutions for people like me.

I picked up my tickets from will-call and immediately found a young bloke willing to buy my extra. He tried to low-ball me, offering $70 AUS. The tickets were $85. I demanded $90 – I wasn’t looking to make a profit, just break even. He told me I should give him a deal because he was a ‘poor backpacker’. I told him to give me $90. He forked over the cash and we exchanged dirty looks. I was huffy for almost 5 minutes.

There were great people to talk to. Everyone was in high spirits. I bounced from group to group and got in rowdy conversations and made predictions of the final score. Most people were impressed that an American was a Rugby fan. I knew the lingo too, which I played up. You know you are having a good time when you flat-out forget to eat. I met two wonderful girls who were big Tiger fans – I was cheering for the Tigers as well (they are the faster, younger team – capable of putting up huge points in bunches). One of the girls’ sisters was dating a star player for the Tigers and they invited me to the after party. I was overjoyed and told them so. The sun was setting, the crowd was live and stadium began to fill. It was time to go to the game.

A raucous walk up to my seats – most had been drinking since noon. Shouts of ‘Let’s go THE Tigers/Cowboys’ volleyed back and forth. I asked someone why they inserted ‘THE’ in the middle of ‘Let’s go Tigers’. He said ‘WHY NOT!?!’ Indeed. My seat was real decent. Bulbs flashed at the opening kick off and the game was under way. The crowd was live but I thought a little sedated due to the 8 hours of drinking in the sun. Or maybe everything just seemed that way because I was the one drinking for 8 hours in the sun.
The Tigers won 30-16. There were some thrilling moments in the first half, including a run/pass breakout that covered the entire length of the field. The Tigers took control and wore the Cowboys down in the 2nd. They won walking away. Good match. The crowd was worn out. I jumped in the crowd and floated with the current to the train station and quietly watched a group from the game insult each other all the way back to the city. What are friends if you cannot break them down and expose their flaws in public?

Back at the hostel. I wanted to regroup before meeting the girls at the after-party. Small problem: I forgot the name of the club. I scoured the phone book, figuring I would know the name when I saw it. It was a pitiful scene. I would not get over this exhibition of absentmindedness for one full day. I was determined to go out so I stomped out to find a good club. I went to ‘Peppermint Lounge’ – I was the only straight man in the building. The music was good. The drinks were pricey. The girls were icy. At least to me. I left the bar and called my ex-girlfriend back in the states and left a rambling message. I bought three pre-packaged sandwiches at a carry out. The night was over.

When I woke up the next day I immediately remembered the name of the club: Sapphire. It was two blocks from the hostel.