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- Sep 12, 2011
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Still up. Tipsy not drunk. Won't sleep til I get back from seeing tens of thousands of Doggies, inluding the special-most two dozen down in West Footscray tomorrow I reckon.
After the game I ended up in Yarraville and bumped into a best mate from primary school. He gave me a beer, we sand the song (which I'll admit is bottom-tier for the Vic clubs, but sounded bloody good tonight), and then another beer (i'm fat, still within the limit officer). And then we went for a bit of a drive.
Footscray was NUTS. Police public order repsonse team was out in force, saw a convoy of their 4WDs working their way round, down Hopkind and Barkly. Counted fifteen, would've been at least another 5, and never once did they flash the sirens, which I appreciated.Lads hanging out windows singing along to "Who Let the Dogs Out", another not very good song, but also one that gave me a damn good grin, as the mix of scragger and hipster and Vietnamese and Skip and old and young that is Footisgray was nothing but scarves and smiles, and horns and raspy voices.
I had a particular chuckle at the definitely not 18 year old boys who found there way into a particular pub that I won't mention cos they deserve to keep their licence, and were enjoying the *idea* of the darts and beers far more than the actuality of them. And at the woman who clearly didn't give two shits who constantly side-eyed her boyfriend who had shedded his hipster skin and was bathwatered to the gills.
After discussing who'd get in the boot of my boat of a commodore, old mate, his Dog-loving housemate, and a couple of good eggs who were 100% on board the Dogs for the day, and deciding that even though every road out of Yarraville had been blocked off by the coppers I was safe to drive (I actually was, I stayed sober as a judge for the game, too close to fainting from the stress for anything but tea), we made our way to see EJ and soak it up a bit down at Whitten oval. My horn, and those of a few others, got a workout; if you live near the ground, I hope you enjoyed my attempt to get my horn to play the song.
The pic isn't brillaint, but the mood was. There weren't many there, the ground had closed hours beforehand, but of the maybe three dozen who were hanging round making a nuisance there was not a one who didn't feel it.
Then down to Sims, for a longneck and some grub, and off to his place. On went the 7" LP of the Sons of the Scray, on repeat, for hours. Out came the herbal suppliments (again, officer, none for me), on went the highlights. I read the thoughts I'd penned about the Dogs the night before, to a remarkably patient audience, and I reckon a couple of them got it. And the rest were happy I was happy.
We talked about the Women's League, and how good it'll be to see the Dogs in action, sitting down at the Whitten Oval having a can and going for the first triple premiership in footy history, knock wood. And about life, And about the west. And about the game, the club, the coach, the players, the nannas of Seddon... the Dogs. Our Dogs.
And then, it was time to head home. Scarf out the window. Online blood alcohol calculator calculated (0.04, officer), half a packet of cheese and onion chips scoffed to mop it up a bit (minor, but only regret of the night), and heading home down the Princes.
Sainters, Dockers, Tigers... I hope you get there. Giants too once the club gives up on Western Sydney and embraces Canberra as their rightful home - apparently almost 50% of the Giants memebers who were at the prelim were from the Capital region, writing ought to be but is not on the wall, AFL.
4 weeks ago, I knew the Dogs, and THESE Dogs were special, and that when we got there it would be... well, special. But I don't know it would be like this.
And so now, it's quarter to five in the morning, and I'm more or less sober, but I'm not back to normal. It's just a game, it's just sport, but something has changed. Nothing earth shattering, just something small, and I don't know what it is yet. But... this win matters. More than I could know. Go Dogs!
________
tl;dr: Dogs won and it's ******* great. Woof Woof!
After the game I ended up in Yarraville and bumped into a best mate from primary school. He gave me a beer, we sand the song (which I'll admit is bottom-tier for the Vic clubs, but sounded bloody good tonight), and then another beer (i'm fat, still within the limit officer). And then we went for a bit of a drive.
Footscray was NUTS. Police public order repsonse team was out in force, saw a convoy of their 4WDs working their way round, down Hopkind and Barkly. Counted fifteen, would've been at least another 5, and never once did they flash the sirens, which I appreciated.Lads hanging out windows singing along to "Who Let the Dogs Out", another not very good song, but also one that gave me a damn good grin, as the mix of scragger and hipster and Vietnamese and Skip and old and young that is Footisgray was nothing but scarves and smiles, and horns and raspy voices.
I had a particular chuckle at the definitely not 18 year old boys who found there way into a particular pub that I won't mention cos they deserve to keep their licence, and were enjoying the *idea* of the darts and beers far more than the actuality of them. And at the woman who clearly didn't give two shits who constantly side-eyed her boyfriend who had shedded his hipster skin and was bathwatered to the gills.
After discussing who'd get in the boot of my boat of a commodore, old mate, his Dog-loving housemate, and a couple of good eggs who were 100% on board the Dogs for the day, and deciding that even though every road out of Yarraville had been blocked off by the coppers I was safe to drive (I actually was, I stayed sober as a judge for the game, too close to fainting from the stress for anything but tea), we made our way to see EJ and soak it up a bit down at Whitten oval. My horn, and those of a few others, got a workout; if you live near the ground, I hope you enjoyed my attempt to get my horn to play the song.
The pic isn't brillaint, but the mood was. There weren't many there, the ground had closed hours beforehand, but of the maybe three dozen who were hanging round making a nuisance there was not a one who didn't feel it.
Then down to Sims, for a longneck and some grub, and off to his place. On went the 7" LP of the Sons of the Scray, on repeat, for hours. Out came the herbal suppliments (again, officer, none for me), on went the highlights. I read the thoughts I'd penned about the Dogs the night before, to a remarkably patient audience, and I reckon a couple of them got it. And the rest were happy I was happy.
We talked about the Women's League, and how good it'll be to see the Dogs in action, sitting down at the Whitten Oval having a can and going for the first triple premiership in footy history, knock wood. And about life, And about the west. And about the game, the club, the coach, the players, the nannas of Seddon... the Dogs. Our Dogs.
And then, it was time to head home. Scarf out the window. Online blood alcohol calculator calculated (0.04, officer), half a packet of cheese and onion chips scoffed to mop it up a bit (minor, but only regret of the night), and heading home down the Princes.
Sainters, Dockers, Tigers... I hope you get there. Giants too once the club gives up on Western Sydney and embraces Canberra as their rightful home - apparently almost 50% of the Giants memebers who were at the prelim were from the Capital region, writing ought to be but is not on the wall, AFL.
4 weeks ago, I knew the Dogs, and THESE Dogs were special, and that when we got there it would be... well, special. But I don't know it would be like this.
And so now, it's quarter to five in the morning, and I'm more or less sober, but I'm not back to normal. It's just a game, it's just sport, but something has changed. Nothing earth shattering, just something small, and I don't know what it is yet. But... this win matters. More than I could know. Go Dogs!
________
tl;dr: Dogs won and it's ******* great. Woof Woof!


