A big game of football was on today apparently.
I heard the Coodabeens observing the supporters arriving at the MCG:
(Port) need an animal. You can't dress up as a lightning bolt.
The lightning bolts beat the lions but we stopped watching before the final siren.
An unprecedented event.
The only thing that seemed genuine was the kick-to-kick happening in the dead street at half time. Later, three generations of Victorians kicked the football in a paddock, the toddlers tumbling, the fathers umpiring, the grandpa calling. As I walked past one backyard party spilling into the park a guy with a stubby was leaning against a tree protesting into his mobile But it's Grand Final Day!
Was he convincing?