Mornington Peninsula Nepean Football League Round 14 – Sorrento v Mt Eliza: Closing time

Well, my time went so quickly
I went lickety-splitly
Out to my ol’ 55
As I pulled away slowly
Feeling so holy
God knows I was feeling alive
Ol’55, Tom Waits

I’ve been listening to Tom Waits lately. Sharing him around. It’s lovely to spot another way to avoid existential angst. Even better, to spot another way to have fun.

Today it’s playtime.

It’s Mornington Peninsula Nepean Football League Round 14 of an 18-round season. And today fifth-placed Sorrento (8-5) host second-placed Mt Eliza (9-4). A real 8-point game.

I’m into Ronnie the RAV4 for the 1-and-three-quarter hour road trip and all is right with the world. On Alexandra Parade, Fitzroy, petrol even costs less than $2 per litre.

Low cloud scuds in early from the north-west. It blankets the sky. Today will be a day of showers, drizzle and glare. A day without shadows.

We arrive on Boon Wurrung / Bunurong country at Sorrento to find traffic banked up due the confined width of a stone entrance gate at David MacFarlan reserve. It is being actively managed by at least two volunteers (“hold on there, can you mate? We’ll let a few out before you go in”).

Through the gate (“go left mate. Oh, definitely left”) I find an empty spot by the fence in the eastern forward pocket, members’ side. A tremendous spot from which to watch footy. But not when the windscreen is alive with precipitation. I go for a walk.

Sorrento wear red jumpers, red shorts, red socks. Their jumper has a diagonal sash on the front, in the Richmond/ Essendon style, coloured white. And superimposed on the whole thing is a cartoon shark, coloured red. Player numbers are white. The Sharks.

Mt Eliza wear white shorts. Their jumper looks a lot like that of Melbourne. Maybe it’s identical. Maybe the red is a fraction on the maroon side. The Redlegs.

And boom, within minutes, the big Sorrento full forward slams a ferocious tackle and gains a free kick right in front. Goal.

 

 

The game starts open. Free kicks are pinged and the ball is slippery. It skids and hurries through on bouncing, like an SK Warne flipper.

Mt Eliza get a free on the flank. And from a 50 metre penalty, scores are level.

In the best early passage of play Mt Eliza run a chain of handballs down the outer side and finish with a running goal. All with a football-like-a-cake-of-soap. They are on top. A mark and another free kick sees Mt Eliza skip away.

Next to where I stand, the ignition starts on a charcoal grey Mazda CX-5. The car doesn’t move. But the windscreen wipers come on.

QT
Sorrento 1.1.7
Mt Eliza 3.2.20

Second quarter and Sorrento kick to the east and I go for a walk around the outer side. Immediately they kick a goal from one of those baffling free kicks won for a ruck infringement. 13-20.

A band of locals walks past.
“So, what’s going on at your joint tonight?”
“Huh? Nothing why?”
“Oh heard Bella* saying she was having a few girls back.”
“Oh – jeez. That’s all i fuckin need.”

Long bomb falls into the open forward line, where a Sorrento rover gathers, loses his man, straightens and goals. 20-20.

Over here, I estimate one car in six has its engine idling and wipers activated. We see goals from rolling mauls, from classic rover-hits-the-pack-at-pace-with-clean-hands-and-runs-into-an-open-goal. We see a snap across the body in open play.

HT
Sorrento 4.3.27
Mt Eliza 6.3.39

The third quarter is tight. Real bodies-on-the-line stuff. The game is fought across the centre line.

A colourful array of golf umbrellas intercepts the steady Sorrento drizzle, which falls without relent. Umbrella logos name: Waverley Volkswagen, darling park, Callaway golf, Mentone Grammar. This could easily be mistaken for a VAFA game in the eastern suburbs.

(Hands up if you knew that Sorrento is further west than Point Cook. See me after class).

Ten minutes of footy passes without a goal, before a Sorrento forward marks in the pocket and snaps truly with his left foot. 34-40

“Ballll!!!”
“Threw it..!!!”
“How the fark did he handball that?!!”

After 18 minutes, Mt Eliza kick a goal with the only organised, open attack of the quarter.
One goal each that quarter.
The lights are on.

3QT
Sorrento 5.5.35
Mt Eliza 7.8.50

And I’m over to the huddle for the home team address. Players of both the home and away teams have each separated into 3 mini-teams in each huddle. Backs, centres, forwards? Capitalists, communists, poets? Mt Eliza’s list contains a notable number of narrow clipped moustaches a la Westley from “The Princess Bride.”

I’m pretty close to the action. Deep Heat fills my nostrils. The coach calls: “Come on, bring it in nice and tight.” And begins his quiet call to arms.
It’s the last word I hear.

But after just three minutes Mt Eliza kick a goal from open play. 35-56

Incautiously, I buy a bucket of hot chips. I have lost the feeling in my fingers and am hopelessly exposed to injury by burning.

 

 

Tired bodies and tired minds fill the oval. After 10 minutes of slog, Sorrento swiftly kick one and then another. 47-57.

It’s time-on in the last. A Sorrento forward lays a crushing tackle on a Mt Eliza defender right in front goal.
All eyes turn to the field umpire.
Holding the ball!
The decision brings a roar from the members, and shouts from the visiting crowd.
“Oh, ya wanna kick it for him too?”

The goal is kicked. 54-58

David MacFarlan reserve is alive. Voices collide across open winter parkland.

Until (“as you wish”) the siren sounds.
The visitors escape with the win.

FT
Sorrento 8.6.54
Mt Eliza 8.10.58

It has been a solid day. I can recall at least three pure high-marking rides – the kind where the hopeful flyer rises above everyone and even then gets one of those extra lifts. The kind that brings an involuntary “ooh!” from everybody watching. Good, tough, skilful footy.

Well played Mt Eliza. Well played Sorrento.

Into Ronnie, swiftly into Ronnie, and away before the traffic jams.
Before closing time.

==

Well my time went so quickly
I went lickety splitly
Back to my Ronnie Rav4.
And we wind our way to the water.
Closing time Portsea Pier
To stand on that old timber floor.

Now the sun’s coming up
I’m riding with Lady Luck
Freeways, cars and trucks
Stars beginning to fade
And I lead the parade.
Ol’55, Tom Waits

*not her real name

 

 

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