It was the sort of day that makes you rethink everything — like ordering a salad at the footy or trusting a GPS through Geelong’s backstreets. The sky sulked low over Kardinia Park, and the wind sliced through our layers like a hot knife through a cold Vili’s pie. The Darl, her old man, and I — bundled in scarves, coats, hoodies, and that stubborn loyalty you don’t learn, only inherit — hit the highway to watch the Cats face the Suns.
We arrived three hours early. Not out of madness, but necessity — the early bird gets the disabled park. The Darl’s ankle has been crook for 35 years and as many surgeries, and her old man is built strictly for short bursts. Proximity always dictates our plan.
We scored a primo park and ducked into St Mary’s Sports Club — our little pre-game chapel behind the ground, a family ritual carved in recent seasons. A couple of warm-up beers and chips drowned in salt gave us brief relief from the plunging temp and the wind sharpening its knives for the 100-metre march to our seats.
“Bloody, maybe we stay home and watch this on the bloody Ti-Veeee,” Darl’s dad muttered as we climbed into position, his breath hanging in the cold. His English — a mix of Greek rhythm and rogue translation — turns complaints into comedy.
“And miss the authentic winter footy experience?” The Darl replied, her voice muffled behind the scarf wrapped up to her eyes.
The bounce came, and it was clear early the Cats had control. The Suns, dressed in those salmon-pink jumpers, looked more novelty act than threat. They managed two behinds in the first quarter as Geelong built a comfortable lead.
“They look like they’re playing in bubblegum wrappers,” The Darl said, squinting through the drizzle.
“At least bubblegum has some snap,” I added, shuffling my feet like I was trying to jumpstart them.
Her dad chimed in: “This team… is like fish… on Sunday. Is no fresh.” We didn’t know what he meant, but nodded like we did.
The second quarter teased a contest — the Suns cut the margin to seven at halftime — but it never arrived. In the wet, windy grind that followed, the Cats just tightened their grip. Losing Bailey Smith pre-bounce could’ve rattled a lesser side, but it cleared the stage for Max Holmes to take over. He was everywhere, slicing through the slop, racking up touches, and dragging Geelong forward like a man with somewhere to be.
By the final siren, it was Cats by 24 — 9.7 (61) to 5.7 (37) — Tyson Stengle’s four goals being the winning margin at the end of the match that was stuck in first gear. The Suns left soggy, outclassed, and still winless in Geelong.
“Well, that was… something,” The Darl said, stretching stiff legs.
“A masterclass in mediocrity,” I muttered. Nothing to write home about.
Her dad nodded gravely: “Is like soup. But no salt. You eat, but you no enjoy.” Why are all his metaphors about food?
We lingered after the siren like the last guests at a barbecue — not because it was good, but because leaving too soon felt rude. The game was forgettable, but the wind kept dancing through the stands like an old waltz, and we let it. You don’t come to Kardinia Park in June chasing fireworks — you come for the ritual. The inside jokes. The loyalty. The quiet poetry of freezing your arse off with people who get it.
As we trudged back to the car, cheeks raw and legs wooden, it hit me — it’s not the scoreline that sticks. It’s the rhythm, the lingo, the silences, and the warm laughs that somehow ride the wind home with you.
“Same time next week?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said.
Her dad grinned, tugging his beanie down like it owed him rent. “Only if no more soup game, eh?” he said — half Greek, half English, but all heart. We laughed — three frozen bodies stitched together by the weird, wonderful thread that is footy, even when the game forgets to show up.
GEELONG
2.2 4.4 6.7 9.7 (61)
GOLD COAST
0.2 3.3 4.3 5.7 (37)
GOALS
Geelong: Stengle 4, Atkins, Humphries, Close, Dempsey, Miers
Gold Coast: King, Rowell, Long, Walter, Humphrey
Our Best
Geelong: Holmes, Miers, Atkins, Stengle, O’Connor
Gold Coast: Rowell, Jeffrey, Humphrey, Powell, Fiorini
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About James Demetrie
Fanatic Geelong supporter, proud webmaster for the Footy Almanac and IT guru who has been promising to propose to his partner at Kardinia Park. He's a football spritualist who's devoted to converting his friends to the way of the Cats.
Nice one James. I was there with old mate. We got to the ground 4 hours early and not to get the carpark but to get in early on the warm schnitzel rolls at St Mary’s and a few really good beers.
I thought, given the rain, that it was a pretty good standard. Cats did look in reasonable control for most of the day.
One bloke to watch in future – Jed Walter for the Suns. He can really play.
Hey Dips, thanks!. We must have crossed paths inside St Mary’s. Next time, let’s catch up!
Thanks Dermie.
Evocative.
Much warmer in the Tanunda lounge room with a family gathering (two brothers and wives visiting).
Some terrific lines in your piece. Loving your father-in-law (to be).
I agree Dips. Jed Walter shows huge promise. He could be Charlie Curnow with mongrel. COULD be.
Thanks John! I thought you might get a giggle out of it. We certainly do!
I enjoyed your piece James, and I think I enjoyed the game more than you did. Lots of good players for the Cats and a win built on team performance, not reliant on superstars. Mind you, if Max keeps going like this he’ll elevate to that level.
Thank you for all your comments!