THE highlight of Gold Coast United's weekend came on Friday night, when the referee blew full time on the Titans' NRL Grand Final hopes. Now maybe we can start building up some local interest in real football?
We can also lay some some new turf at Skilled Park, hopefully in time for our big game against Melbourne Victory. But with the AFL Grand Final just hours beforehand, don't expect a big turnout at Robina next Saturday night.
The Broncos will also be playing against Melbourne next weekend for a spot in the NRL grand final. And yeah, all those Titans fans are suddenly Broncos supporters again (funny that) so there's another excuse for people to stay home.
I'm sick of rugby. The manager at my local pub wouldn't even let me change channels on Saturday night, even on a small TV in the corner which nobody was watching.
"It's the LEAGUE!!!" she bleated, as if that explained everything. "Anyway, there's another TV showing soccer in the main bar."
There was indeed, and a poor sod was sitting there alone at a table, with his eyes glued to the screen, stoically ignoring the lead singer who was screaming his lungs out five feet behind him. Bugger that.
So I went to another pub, where a family had grabbed the biggest screen for the A-League, even if there was no sound. But then all the league fans huddled around smaller screens grumbled to the manager, who switched the games over at half-time.
Aaargh! Bloody egg-ball fans! And of course, there was still no sound for the "soccer". How long will it take for that code balance to change?
For me, rugby encapsulates many of the worst things about Australia: our insular parochialism, our habit of always sinking en masse to the lowest common denominator, and our penchant for thoughtless brutality.
As a species, we are born with brains the size and shape of clenched fists. As we struggle through life, our better natures are locked in permanent battle with our base, animal instincts. Sport can be a great way to release this base aggression and play out rivalries without leaving too many corpses lying around. But obviously, some sports achieve that better than others.
Ah well. Let the egg-heads enjoy their finals while they last. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink. Not everyone is going to appreciate "the beautiful game".
And that brings us to the Central Coast Mariners.
Lawrie's lads were deservedly way ahead on the foul stats at half time, after bumping, knocking, kicking and tripping United all over the park. A better ref would have handed out a slew of cards, and yet Nicky Travis was the only player shown yellow. Aside from Shane Smeltz, of course.
A second goal on 54 minutes meant the game was effectively over. Now it was United's turn to pick up fouls as they struggled to match the Mariners ugly aggression. Nobody was too surprised when the frustration boiled over and Smeltz saw red. Just another stroll in the park with Matthew Breeze.
At it's best (and this was the best I've seen them play) the Mariners' style of "anti-football" reminds me of Socceroos internationals from years gone by. Back then, we Aussies didn't have the technical skills to compete, so we did our best to drag opponents down to our level. The physical tactics were crude but effective.
We clawed our way up the international rankings, pulling off surprise results against more talented teams. The general public climbed aboard the bandwagon, proud to get global recognition for a game the rest of the world actually plays. Then, slowly but surely, our technical skills started to improve. Sure, we still need to force better teams to play our game, but at least that game is now a greater pleasure to watch. We've stepped up.
I wonder if the Mariners will ever take that next step? Probably not while Lawrie is coaching them. The seagulls fluttering around Bluetongue Stadium register my estimation of the style they are currently playing. It's not quite as primitive as rugby, and at least the ball is round.
But apparently guano is an excellent fertilizer, so who knows what might spring up in future?
