This is the sacred day,
when most will stop
to view and see afresh
the grand event,
the culmination of
the epic and torrid battles
that mark and grace
the football year.
This is the day of rituals,
when devotees to the G
shall go robed and ready
to see their team
and to celebrate with
their tribe,
or perhaps just
to soak in the spectacle
that is the last
and final game.
The day is more than
just the season’s end,
for across the city,
and inter-state,
the colours fly,
and the week before
is filled with speculation
and commentary,
inscrutable Brownlow counting,
parades and excited dreams
of what might be if
they (their team) would only win.
And at the bounce,
the banners raise
and the crowd swells,
filled with the aura
of this lavish festival;
and the cheers resound
and echo across
the hallowed turf of this
place of reverence,
the cathedral of worship
of THE GAME,
at the home we call
the MCG.
Then, as the siren
calls all to watch and pray
and wonder at what will be
and who will stand
and who will fall,
breaths are held
in rooms and bars,
and outdoor BBQs,
across this land,
and even beyond.
For this sacred game,
the religion of this new land,
of once a year is on again,
is on for all to watch
and be made part of
its unifying theme.
This theme is that
all can come
and partake in this
shared and urgent love,
and all of every race
and every kindred
shall be one tribe,
as we lift our gaze
and raise our hands
to the greatest game
in this our wonderland.
26/9/2016