Embracing a fascinating and rough sport

    Saturday (albeit Friday night-Saturday morning here) is Grand Final Day — a celebrated day I’ve come to look forward to every September.    A few years ago a friendship with a native of the Land Down Under helped me develop an understanding, appreciation and love for Australian Football, or as many people in North America refer to it — Aussie Rules.    I didn’t first encounter this sport a few years ago, it’s been on my radar for more than two decades. But as a kid in rural Canada, without the benefits of cable TV, it was really nothing more than a legend, propelled by a few random images.    I knew nothing about the sport but I romantically imagined it to be this sort of lawless, soccer-rugby half-breed where anything was legal.    Heck, on the playground at school we used to play something we called “Australian rules basketball.” All it meant was that there were no boundaries and if you felt the need to tackle an opponent to get the basketball, it was not discouraged.    After two decades of maintaining my romantic vision had seen no more than a few minutes of action that had left me thinking — “Wow, this is amazing — I just wish I had a clue what was going on.”    That was until 2004 when, through the combination of satellite TV and Steve from Australia, I was able to learn the game.    And while I entered late in the year and only got to see a handful of games, I fell in love with it.     There very much is a structure to Aussie Rules. There are rules. It is “anything goes.”     However, it is not a game for the faint of heart.    Firstly, it’s played on a large, oval surface and at any one time, each team has 18 players on the pitch. That can make for a busy field.    The job for each team is to move the oblong ball down to the opponent’s goal posts.     This can be done by a variety of methods: • kicking the ball;• punching the ball with a closed fist or hitting it with an open hand to propel it;• or running with the ball, although it must be bounced every 15 metres.    The ball cannot be thrown forward.    If a player catches a hand pass, they have to keep on going because an opponent can hit them. However, if a player on either team catches a kicked ball, which is called a mark, play stops and that player can have a free kick.    Once a team gets it close to the opponent’s goalposts, it tries to kick the ball through the middle posts. There are four posts.     If it goes through the middle two, it’s a goal and that’s worth six points. If it goes between one of the outside posts and one of the middle posts, it’s called a behind and is only worth one point.    The teams play for four quarters of roughly 20 minutes each.    As for the rough play North Americans always associate with the sport, players are allowed to tackle opponents between the shoulders and knees in an attempt to get the ball.    While I’m not sure how legal it is, players also jostle with each other vigourously in trying to catch one of those kicked balls.    It may look like chaos but it’s a blast to watch, although I admit I still don’t understand all of the nuances.     As with any professional sport, a person often gravitates to one team. which becomes “my team.” A fan can often be caught using the royal “we” when referring to his or her team.    The reason why a person supports any one team is not always the best but from here on in, it’s that person’s team.    I discovered my team in the fall of 2004 through a rather dubious manner.    As I caught a couple of playoff games leading up to the Grand Final, I realized that the team to beat was the Brisbane Lions. At the time, they were the New York Yankees of the AFL.    The Lions had won three straight AFL titles and were heading to the final for a fourth straight year.    As I’m often a fan of the underdog (I am a Toronto Maple Leafs fan), I decided to support the only team left that could stop the Lions from a fourth straight crown — the Port Adelaide Power.    The Power had always come up short in the playoffs and was seen as chokers. I figured this was my kind of team.    I watched the final that night at the home of Steve — who was from Adelaide and was an ardent fan of the Adelaide Crows, the Power’s bitter archrivals.    He bristled when I said I was cheering for the Power and immediately turned the TV off after the game as the Power tossed the choker reputation aside and won the championship handily (I kept my happiness to myself, until I got home).    Since then, I’ve tried to keep an eye on the league, and especially the Power (I have been known to sing the team’s theme song at times).     Now, I look forward to this year’s Grand Final.     While my Power is not in the final, I know who I’ll be supporting as my wife and I head to a bar to watch the final.    One of the finalists is the Geelong Cats. Two years ago the Cats played the Power in the Grand Final and laid the greatest whupping on a team in Grand Final history. The Cats topped the Power 163-44 that night.    Since then, when I refer to the Cats, I only call them #@%&in’ Geelong. As such, I will not be cheering for the St. Kilda Saints.    Here’s hoping it’ll be a good night of footy and that I’ll be glad to be in St. Kilda when the Saints go marching in.Jason Small can be reached at 691-1255.