competition

Saturday

We are at The Beach House for the school holidays. 

I dropped F off to spend the day with Leroy, a friend who he’s  known  since they were both in nappies. They went to school together for six years when we lived up here.  L and his sister are spending the weekend with their Dad, who is minding a house we used to visit back in the days of the school car-pool. When F and I  arrive, L’s sister is feeding the horse. I remember that horse. Memories wait for you in old places. 

I remember L’s dad, Stretch too. He is down from Darwin on his regular schedule, in between going out on the prawn trawlers up there. He and the kids are going to watch The AFL Grand Final on television.

F and L grin at eachother - they haven’t seen eachother for 6 months and have both grown about a foot taller - they  punch the footy back and forth, and F tells L what a crap AFL team he’s playing for down south. L tells F that the team they both played for up here - the Pomona Demons, made it to the Grand Final. this year. 

“Yeah, they did real well”, says Stretch, who is sometimes their goal umpire. “I told them ‘Youse just have to believe youse can do it’ “He’s got his stash of beer ready for the afternoon’s entertainment. And sandwiches for the kids. We all want St Kilda to win. 

I head back to the beach, for a few hours of sudden, welcome solitude. I read the John Banville book ’The Sea”, lying in the hammock. All wrapped up in the sound of the sea and my love for this place. 

When I drive out to the hinterland to collect F at the end of the day, they are all kicking the footy about rather half heartedly on the paddock next to the dirt road. I hear that the Grand Final has been a draw. “ Must be that frustratin’ “ comments Stretch, “ for the players. And the coach”  Yeah, and all those poor people who bought tickets and went  to Melbourne specially. How disappointing. There is a general mood of disgruntlement, of not having got satisfaction. Left dangling.  

Privately, and not having watched the game, I am unmoved by this unexpected drama, or rather the lack of drama.

But when I’m watching F play football, I  want his team to win. No one wants a 'win-win' outcome in sport.

Or, unfortunately in politics.The way I felt about Collingwood and St Kilda was a bit like how I felt about the two 'major' parties and  the whole ridiculous election business and the ‘hung parliament’ biz. I mean the prospect of Tony Abbott was appalling, but I was hardly excited about Julia - merely the lesser of two evils. 

“A tawdry , media-based popularity contest spun around superficial appearances, catchphrases and...mass deceit’ That’s how Michael Leunig describes what nowadays passes for ‘democracy’. Yet we really need someone to win that popularity contest. 

We don’t like it, do we, when opposing forces are too equally matched?  We feel deprived if no blood is shed, if there are no winners and losers. It’s primal somehow: No matter how thrilling the game, we want some to prevail, others to be vanquished. It’s a gut thing. Equilibium is so dull!