Round 2 – St Kilda v Geelong: Generations Assemble.

 

We meet at the Royal Melbourne Hotel. A few cousins. Second cousins, but let’s not split hairs. Bill arrives wearing his scarf that dates back to 1973. The scarf spends its time on the back window of his car so the navy blue on one side is bleached purple. Old Geelong paraphernalia always reminds me of Wayne Closter for some reason. Or maybe Wayne Closter just reminds me of old Geelong.

 

Bill remembers the 1973 season, and a few other disasters thereafter. Whenever he talks about the Cats 1980 and 1981 finals series his shoulders hunch and he is suddenly furtive and fidgety. He leans into the conversation, like he’s discussing a state secret. The wounds run deep.

 

“Beaten us the last three times here haven’t they?” he asks as we sip our first Carlton Draught and analyse the chances of beating the Saints tonight.

 

“Yep think so.”

 

Bill, and his brother Leo are responsible for me and my brothers barracking for Geelong. Hand-me-down Geelong jumpers went from them to my oldest brother, and then through our family like a canon ball through a grass hut.

 

Bill also taught me how to drag on a Lucky Strike whilst sitting on the windowsill in the bungalow in the back yard of their house in Ashburton. We were supposed to be sleeping. I was about nine years old but being woken up at midnight to have a fag and to galivant around the old railway lines that ran across the rear of the houses was way more exciting.

 

“If we get caught”, Bill would say, “we’ll probably end up in the Boys’ Home.”

 

This frightened me no end. And made the whole experience an adrenalin rush.

 

Gerard and Leo discuss the menu, Matt arrives full of beans. On Thursday he told his boss where to stick his job and walked out. He looks like a man who’s just been on a holiday with Judy Green.

 

We stroll down Burke Steet and up the step stairs to the concourse that leads to Docklands or whatever they call it these days? Coca Cola Stadium is it? Don’t really care.

 

At the bottom of the stairs, just outside Southern Cross Station, a woman lies sprawled on the concrete, filthy tracksuit pants just hang onto her frame, her shirt is riding up, hair plastered to her head. She’s muttering to herself, resting her head on a pillow of plastic bags and a torn jumper. People step over her and around her and the odd one glances down. What’s her story? How did she end up here? The river of people surging past her to be entertained at the footy is jarring.

 

In the ground we meet Michael, Paddy, and Paddy’s three little kids, dressed in their Geelong jumpers and scarves and even a bit of face paint. They’re excited, eyes alight like a campfire, taking in the stadium and all its flashing lights, brainless, pumping music, and some bloke screaming into the PA system about how huge and awesome and massive this game will be.

 

“Will we win tonight?” I ask

 

“YEP!” is the chorus reply. They smile up at me, beaming. Lulu gives me a high five. It’s her first live game of footy. She’s pumped. She’s not sure where to look next. Not sure how to consume all the palaver that’s going on around her. Her senses are under attack.

 

Here are three generations of Cats fans. It’s a marvelous, warm, delightful sight. A universe away, and yet only about 200 metres, from the woman at the bottom of the stairs.

 

The game commences. The Saints run rampant. My phone is pinging.

 

“Off the boil tonight”

 

“Gone”

 

“What the hell’s going on there?”

 

The Cats aren’t even second to the ball, they’re third and sometimes fourth. And the Saints field kicking is precise and confident. They cut a swathe through the Cats in the middle of the ground and get out by forty points. I look sideways at the little ones a few seats along. The excitement has waned. Their faces are stony.  Lulu has her head buried in Paddy’s chest. She’s over it.

 

I look at Bill and Leo and Michael. Hardened Cats supporters. They stare straight ahead. Motionless. Emotionless. Maybe they’re back in 1973 again. After we won the flag in 2007 Leo announced that the Cats could never hurt him again. But they’re clearly hurting him tonight.

 

The young lasses sitting next to me chat to themselves and pick up their phones habitually. Every thirty seconds or so. They flick through screens and put the phone down, then pick it up again and show each other a Tik Tok thing (or whatever), take another selfie with fake smiles and frozen botox foreheads. The game seems to be a bit of a distraction to their socials.

 

“Wrong game to come to,” says Michael at half time.

 

The Cats surge late in the game and have their chances to win. The last quarter turns into a game of inches. Dangerfield takes a mark. Thirty out, slight angle. We’re only eleven points down. His kick is a tired one that skews off the boot and doesn’t even make the journey. Then moments later he snaps one over his shoulder from the pocket but it’s touched on the line. Close goes very close. A toe poke in the goal square. The Saints are familiar with a Cat toe poke. The ball dribbles through the goal. Cats fans are rejoicing. Lulu lifts her head. But the third umpire reckons it came off a Saints boot. If Close was a size 10 boot rather than a size 9 it might have made the difference. The Saints clear it and cling on. They are too good tonight.

 

Bill leans over to a mum and daughter sitting in front of us. Saints supporters. They look drained but happy.

 

“Well done, too good” he says. They’re smiles portray profound relief.

 

The generations shake hands and bid farewells after the siren. I walk across the concourse and down the stairs to the tram stop. The woman is no longer there. I hope she found a safe bed for the night. The final scores probably don’t matter to her.

 

 

ST KILDA        6.1     10.5     14.6     15.8     (98)
GEELONG       1.4     5.6        9.9     13.13     (91)

 

GOALS
St Kilda: Higgins 4, Collard 2, Wood 2, Sinclair 2, Windhager 2, Owens, Collard, Keeler
Geelong: Clohsey 2, Dempsey 2, Neale 2, Stengle 2, Blicavs, Close, Holmes, Cameron, Knevitt,

 

BEST
St Kilda: Windhager, Macrae, Sinclair, Wanganeen-Milera, Marshall, Higgins
Geelong: Humphries, Atkins, Guthrie, Cameron, O’Sullivan

 

INJURIES
St Kilda: Stocker (concussion)
Geelong: Stewart (knee)

 

LATE CHANGES
St Kilda: Nil
Geelong: Bailey Smith (calf), replaced in selected side by Ted Clohesy

 

SUBSTITUTES
St Kilda: Hugo Garcia (replaced Stocker at half-time)
Geelong: Ted Clohesy (replaced Stewart in the second term)

 

Crowd: TBC at Marvel Stadium

 

 

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