2006 June 26 Ripped Off
Imagine I’m leaving a dark, smoky room. There is a big flat screen TV on one wall, chairs scattered around the room, but they are all facing the TV. I pay for my drink, a beer, and walk down the stairs into the sun filled piazza. Inside my head I’m screaming every bad word I can muster. They run through my head like rain runs into the gutter, and down into the sewer. I walk home, through the late afternoon light, it’s still very warm. The streets, festooned with flags, explode with cars and scooters, horns blaring, heads and arms hanging out, broad grins on every face.
We lost. They won. I can’t believe it. I’m a new fan, how could they let me down like this? They won. Italy won, by one goal. Australia lost, and now we are out of the World Cup, our first ever. After watching the entire game, alone, in a bar filled with enthusiastic Italians (Gi had to work, can you believe it?), I feel I’m entitled to say that Italy really didn’t deserve to win. We certainly didn’t deserve to lose like that; in the last minute of extra time in the second half, and a penalty goal to boot. Ridiculous, humiliating!
As I left the bar, trying to look resolutely proud without being too disappointed, I dropped the comment ‘We were ripped off’ to three guys wearing Aussie shirts who were sitting there looking shattered. During the break I’d said ‘Hi, at least you’re supporting the right team’. They looked very much like accountants or software programmers, and were obviously passing through on holiday so I didn’t chat any further. But it was comforting to know that I wasn’t the only Aussie in that dark, smoky bar.
During and after the game I received text messages from my initially supportive, then consoling friends around the world. Jenny Wilson and her daughter Amy were snuggled up on the couch under blankets in Brisbane watching in the early hours of their morning. Garo in London had just raced home from closing the hair salon to catch the second half. Esther in Germany was keen to see Australia win having lived in Oz on exchange. Doeng from Thailand, having just visited us in Naples, was in a bar in Bangkok where 90% of the patrons were supporting Australia.
Now rest assured I know virtually nothing about soccer (oops, sorry football) but I though Australia played very well. The statistics flashed up that Austalia had 59% ball possession to Italy’s 41%. Italy also had a red card. Being better sports, and less violent on the field, Australia did not. The Australians however need to master the art of dramatically falling over, tripping on thin air and fake ankle injuries. I thought the Italians were much better at this aspect of the game.
However the Italian newspapers are reporting how well Australia has played, and that we’ve made significant improvements as a team. The atmosphere in that dark, smoky room certainly reflected that, as you could almost feel the worry and anxiety around me. Imagine if Australia had won…oh, no, then the Italians would be claiming that half the team are from Italy or Greece or Yugoslavia. I think they now recognise that Australia is a team of the future, and a force to be reckoned with in the international soccer league (oops, sorry football).
Never mind, the boys did well for their first trot out on the World Cup arena. They’ll be back. And in the meantime I just have to decide who I’m going to support now. Maybe Germany, maybe England? It’s a shame Thailand aren’t playing.
Imagine I’m leaving a dark, smoky room. There is a big flat screen TV on one wall, chairs scattered around the room, but they are all facing the TV. I pay for my drink, a beer, and walk down the stairs into the sun filled piazza. Inside my head I’m screaming every bad word I can muster. They run through my head like rain runs into the gutter, and down into the sewer. I walk home, through the late afternoon light, it’s still very warm. The streets, festooned with flags, explode with cars and scooters, horns blaring, heads and arms hanging out, broad grins on every face.
We lost. They won. I can’t believe it. I’m a new fan, how could they let me down like this? They won. Italy won, by one goal. Australia lost, and now we are out of the World Cup, our first ever. After watching the entire game, alone, in a bar filled with enthusiastic Italians (Gi had to work, can you believe it?), I feel I’m entitled to say that Italy really didn’t deserve to win. We certainly didn’t deserve to lose like that; in the last minute of extra time in the second half, and a penalty goal to boot. Ridiculous, humiliating!
As I left the bar, trying to look resolutely proud without being too disappointed, I dropped the comment ‘We were ripped off’ to three guys wearing Aussie shirts who were sitting there looking shattered. During the break I’d said ‘Hi, at least you’re supporting the right team’. They looked very much like accountants or software programmers, and were obviously passing through on holiday so I didn’t chat any further. But it was comforting to know that I wasn’t the only Aussie in that dark, smoky bar.
During and after the game I received text messages from my initially supportive, then consoling friends around the world. Jenny Wilson and her daughter Amy were snuggled up on the couch under blankets in Brisbane watching in the early hours of their morning. Garo in London had just raced home from closing the hair salon to catch the second half. Esther in Germany was keen to see Australia win having lived in Oz on exchange. Doeng from Thailand, having just visited us in Naples, was in a bar in Bangkok where 90% of the patrons were supporting Australia.
Now rest assured I know virtually nothing about soccer (oops, sorry football) but I though Australia played very well. The statistics flashed up that Austalia had 59% ball possession to Italy’s 41%. Italy also had a red card. Being better sports, and less violent on the field, Australia did not. The Australians however need to master the art of dramatically falling over, tripping on thin air and fake ankle injuries. I thought the Italians were much better at this aspect of the game.
However the Italian newspapers are reporting how well Australia has played, and that we’ve made significant improvements as a team. The atmosphere in that dark, smoky room certainly reflected that, as you could almost feel the worry and anxiety around me. Imagine if Australia had won…oh, no, then the Italians would be claiming that half the team are from Italy or Greece or Yugoslavia. I think they now recognise that Australia is a team of the future, and a force to be reckoned with in the international soccer league (oops, sorry football).
Never mind, the boys did well for their first trot out on the World Cup arena. They’ll be back. And in the meantime I just have to decide who I’m going to support now. Maybe Germany, maybe England? It’s a shame Thailand aren’t playing.
2 comments:
I'm supporting Ukraine, cause that's who i picked in our sweep that we did at work. We're playing Italy on Friday. I really enjoyed the way this piece was written.
Hi Jen,
Yep. I was the only Australian in town that crappy afternoon. At least the Italians I've spoken to all agree that it wasn't a penalty! Talk about Italian dramatization - swan diving. Did you see the sneaky smile on that conman's face? Che fregatura!
I'll write you soon.
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