Once again, I am writing to you on my annual Christmas pilgrimage “down under”. Family, friends, BBQs, the beach, northern hemisphere rugby and, perhaps surprisingly for Irish readers, some very serious cricket are all on the menu.
Planes, trains, automobiles and the odd frantic foot race to a departure gate are as festive to me as Rudolph’s red honker or the majesty of Sydney Harbour’s New Year’s Eve fireworks.
However, the motivation behind this long-haul flight was different.
It all started last year when a lifelong friend asked me a very unexpected question.
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“How many Christmases have you got left in your life?”
We have been close friends since our teenage years. Across the decades we shared a house together, we stood shoulder to shoulder on each other’s wedding days, celebrated the births of our children and watched them grow into good people. The happiness and the heartbreak. The whole nine yards.
In a beautiful twist of fate our sons were born in the same year, attended the same school and played rugby together. Joyously, they are also great mates.
When the Lions toured in 2013 they were both turning 18. We surprised them by taking them to the third Test in Brisbane. Despite the Wallabies blowing the game and the series, it was a spectacular few days, and, as the saying goes, we made some fantastic memories.
My friend’s next question to me was: “How many Boxing Day Ashes cricket matches have you got left in you?” The Ashes is the name of the cricket contest between England and Australia that has been raging since 1882. As a Sydney boy I have never attended a Boxing Day Test in Melbourne and those unsettling questions moved us into action. So on Christmas Day we surprised our sons with the news that the next morning we were all off to Melbourne to watch the cricket.
As a matter of principle, I know Ireland prides itself on culturally shunning English sports. That is except for football, rugby, hockey, rowing, tennis, snooker, darts and the Marquess of Queensberry rules of boxing.
Australia chose the opposite path and took up every imaginable English sport. Then we made it our obsession to beat them at every one of their own games and, for over a century, Australian sportspeople have been wildly successful at it.
Before a ball was bowled in Melbourne, Australia had already wrapped up the five-match series by winning the first three Tests.
While cricket is the most English of sports, it is the only sport that unifies Australia as a nation. In the winter months AFL and the rugby codes compete, but when the blistering sun of summer arrives, white flannel fools can be seen chasing after a small red leather ball in every park across the continent.
Day one of the Boxing Day Test at the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG) is an iconic cultural institution with tens of thousands of cricketing nerds turning up every year. Last Thursday on St Stephen’s Day, I was one of 94,199 fans who set a new attendance record for an Ashes Test at the MCG.
“The Barmy Army” is the name adopted by the tribe of English cricket followers who loyally travel the world in support of their team. With astonishing stamina, they sing and chant from the first ball of the day at 10.30am until the last at 5.30pm. Day after day. Match after match. Year after year.
They have weaponised the art of getting under Australian skin.
The Barmy Army sing a version of God Save the King fully understanding that because of 125 years of political stuff-ups by small-minded politicians, King Charles III of England remains the head of state of Australia.
While pointing their fingers at both the Australian players and into the Australian crowd, sarcastically the Barmy Army sing, “God save YOUR (point their finger) gracious King, long live YOUR (point their finger) noble King, God save YOUR (I want to break every one of their pointed fingers) King.”
Now that is a low blow.
What we did not know was that the grass pitch on the MCG, which is so crucial to how teams perform, was one of the worst prepared in the history of the magical old coliseum. The extreme unpredictability of the pitch made batting a nightmare for both teams.
It was like watching a game of cricket on fast forward. Five days are allocated for each Test but as a blur of batsmen were dismissed for low scores the match in Melbourne was wrapped up in two.
We compensated for the speed of the game by treating ourselves to a few quiet beers in the Shane Warne Stand, followed by an excellent meal at one of Melbourne’s renowned pubs. Needless to say this was accompanied by some great wine from the state of Victoria. Then we went to bed. Got up and repeated the entire process.
It was a dark and dangerous mission, but someone had to do it.
While England snatched their first Test match win in Oz since 2011, the result for my friend and I was almost irrelevant. At dinner on our last night in Melbourne my old mate grabbed the menu and ordered some very good wine.
“Life is too short for bad wine,” he laughed, “and how many more times will we get to go away with our boys? So let’s enjoy it.”
Which I can promise you we did.
As the controversy began to rage in the media over the horrible state of the MCG wicket, Leinster and Munster contested their post-Christmas match in Limerick. Like Melbourne it was a match far below the standard that the supporters from both camps had hoped for.
In Ireland criticism of the turgid encounter erupted.
I have spent much of my adult life dissecting and analysing games of sport but last week, just for a few days, it all seemed far less important.
While we passionately obsess over the teams that are interwoven into our lives, the truth is there are far more important things in life than a game based on a bat hitting a ball or 30 rugby players trying to beat the snot out of each other.
I don’t know how many more Christmases the Big Fella has planned for me. I hope it’s plenty. I do know that I spent the last one on a just cause. Spending time with my son and two dear friends.
England achieved success in the cricket and the rugby interpros were disappointing, but in Melbourne, a couple of old Australian blokes had a win that money simply cannot buy.
