ANZ Tedium

By jimminy, that Broncos-St George Illawarra game the other week was an absolute cracker!
Could hardly wait to get home for the TV replay to see it for the first time.
Accepted gratefully when The Bug's resident league commentator, Basher Brown, rang out of the blue to say his mate Blue was too sick – an allergic reaction to the second bottle of Beenleigh rum he'd put on his rice bubbles apparently – so The Bash had a spare ticket to the game. Accepted, of course. Should be a great spectacle, I said.
Wish I had great spectacles, I murmured as we made out way to the top of the western stand.
The great stadium debate, which had left me cold for weeks, had started to take on some urgency.
Now I don't give a flying figtree where they put it, as long as all the people who want to watch Rupert league can do so in relative comfort and close enough to the action to see, well, the action.
The western stand is about a suburb away from the near goal posts. Just after the kick-off, we squinted at the horizon where a line of ants in Broncos colours were making their way upfield. They appeared to be about halfway into Dragsteelers' territory. One of the ants fell over and, suddenly, it was far from quiet on the western front. Try time, apparently. Or as one ABC radio announcer might say, Ttttttttttttrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.!, only in a much more guttural voice than that. The ants, it seems, had been much closer to the tryline than naked sight suggested.
After the conversion attempt, which may or may not have been successful – the fans in the western stand stamped really loudly but they might have just been keeping warm – Basher turned sideways and said: I'm getting as dry as Mother Teresa's tits", tipping his empty cup upside down for emphasis.
"Why don't youse go get us another few beers before the half-time rush", Basher offered wisely. "You've got bugger all hope during the break."
Now Basher's no mug as readers of his excellent, incisive column no doubt know. He went down to the beer queue long before kick-off and managed to buy two mugs just before we trundled up to our seats. Astute man, that Bash. Why go and buy beer during the game when there's so much not to see.
So down I went, under the western stand, where luckily Basher was right. There was only a queue of some 20 metres, three or four abreast.
Nice people, too. Broncos leading. Good humour abounding. Jokes galore as we and the first half shuffled towards the drinks break. The young girls in Dragons' colours getting ribbed about whether they were old enough to buy booze by a Broncos fan with an IQ to match their age. The stamp of feet above. Some guy sitting on a rail who claimed to be able to see someone who could see someone who was in earshot of someone who could see the scoreboard, calling out the score: about 10-4 in someone's favour.
Started to get just a little bit pissed off. Thought: wish there was a council election tomorrow so I could vote Jim Soorley into oblivion for making the Drongos stick to their contract and keep playing at ANZ Stadium even though the venue was attracting three men and a dog in the early days after the Super League fiasco. The French lobbed off heads for treating the great unwashed masses better than this.
But in the urinal before the game, I got some hint of why the authorities can treat the paying public like mugs.
Two young fellows, Broncos livery, chests all puffed up, were gloating over the big crowd on hand – some 33,000, the best for the year.
"That'll show them," one said, taking it all so personally. Yeah, we're back, agreed the other. Such loyalty to a club – and a venue!
Touching loyalty – especially if they're from the northern suburbs and have already made the bus to suburban station, train to Central, train to Banoon, crowded kamikaze bus to venue trip that will repeat itself over a bladder-bursting two hours after the grand final hooter.
Unbelievable loyalty if they're among the unlucky few who've actually paid $14.50, I'm told, to sit in the southern or northern stands and watch the $22 a head people in the western and eastern stands who can actually see the game.
Back at the queue. Wondered if those two unwitting PRs for the Broncos and ANZ were in the same boat and if their unbridled loyalty was diminishing. Stopped feeling sorry for myself after talking to a bloke who was still in the queue from the Auckland game.
Finally shuffled to the head of the queue where a dear old thing was pouring cups of beer from Australia's most dimwitted beer tap. Half of the beer shed was closed off. Nodded to the row of unused taps in the closed-off area.
"Do they ever open that side up?" I asked. "It's always open." she replied. Except for tonight obviously. There had been a misunderstanding, someone added.
Finally got back to our seats just as the second half started.
"Thank God," Bash shouted, "this cask of Golden Gate claret's just run out." He'd smuggled the cask in under his beergut.
"You had a cask of plonk all along and you've made me stand in a stinking queue for 40 minutes!"
"Well it was only four litres, he sniffed.
Fair point.
"You'll be half blind," I warned.
"Does it matter when you're sitting way up here?" he replied.
Good point, Bash.

- Don Gordon-Brown

Footballnote:The Bash returned to ANZ stadium for the Parramatta game last week, this time freeloading in the northern stand, somewhere around Chermside. Talked to this poor bastard who went down to the beer shed 10 minutes before half-time. Stood in line for 40 minutes (sounds familiar) and then had to buy bourbon because the beer had run out.