I’m really not that interested in it. Not as a spectator anyway, despite the post I wrote before last, about how excited I was at the tennis finals. It’s not the sport itself that interests me; it’s the drama of it. These days, I have to take my drama where I find it. It’s kind of like the short part of 2002 that I spent working as a farmhand in the dusty and deserted centre of Sicily, where the only entertainment was the weekly football game on satellite TV. We would drive a tiny dented Fiat all the way into town to watch Milan AC play in their Champions League games, not even in a bar, but in a very local set-up, just two rooms filled with chairs and the telly on full volume and twenty to thirty full-blooded Sicilian men (I never saw another girl there) all standing and yelling at the screen whenever Milan AC tried for a goal. That was pretty good drama.
In Townsville it’s pretty much the same story (minus the Sicilian men). Most of the time it’s just a small dull city filled with working class families and their utes and their children. The only thing going on other than sport is Friday and Saturday night drinking, including an absolutely alarming number of very young women we see out on Hen’s nights. Presumably, straight after the Hen’s night comes marriage and children, and then less drinking because they have to get up early on those weekend mornings in order to take their children to play sport.
I’m not trying to make a point, really. I just wanted to give you a bit of background before I mention that I’m all excited about sport again. We’re going to see a basketball game on Friday night: Townsville Crocodiles Vs Cairns Taipans. Hayden won the tickets by narking on his colleagues about some safety issue at work. I’m so proud of him.
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