“We should watch State of Origin with the kids,” Tracey said to me the day after the last match was played.
Actually, she pretty much says this after every game.
If the Origin match was postponed, it’s not that I wouldn’t care: I simply wouldn’t notice. Today is simply one of three days a year the girls at work insist on throwing maroon hats, scarves and shirts at me to wear.
I gave Tracey’s idea my standard response.
“Why on earth would we do that?”
For me, one of the best things about football in general is not watching it: State of Origin doubly so. Plus, hardly anyone shops on game night so we pretty much have the run of the town. So long as we avoid ordering pizza.
I don’t begrudge people their spot of sport – I know some people enjoy building the day into a fever pitch, gathering around a telly and an esky with mates – but I’m not so interested in joining in. In much the same way, it must be said, on the 19th of September the girls at work won’t feel the need to participate in Talk Like A Pirate Day with me.
But today, because I’m a trooper, I phoned Tracey from work to let her know the game was on tonight and to see what her plans were. She didn’t let me down.
“Do we have to?” she whined.
“No,” I assured her happily, “we don’t.”
But then I got to thinking how maybe she’s right, maybe the kids should start to watch State of Origin and embrace the fun of it (I’m told it is fun). I approached Master8 and Miss9 to gauge their eagerness to watch the game.
“YES!” they bellowed. It seems they were keen to see the game, although I think my complete lack of ‘sport watching’ gene shone through in Master8’s follow up comment.
“State of Organisation is awesome!” he screamed.
So I did what any father worth his salt would do in this situation – I phoned around our local relatives and found someone who was watching the game, then raced out and dumped the kids at their door before coming home to a quiet, football free house.
“Mum called,” Tracey told me when I came home. “You realize the game doesn’t even start for another two hours?”
“Really?” I said. Who knew? This footy thing was sounding more and more invasive. “Just tell her I didn’t want them to miss the whole prematch excitement,” I told her as I put on the kettle and fired up my Kindle to read The Green Mile for the fifth time.
Have a great night, everyone. Hope they play their red and blue hearts out, score lots of goals and you get to see some quality footy. Only bugger is I suddenly have a hankering for a Meatlovers.
When not typing away over here and checking his stats every two minutes Bruce Devereaux hangs out at his ‘BIG FAMILY little income’ Facebook Page.
’raising a family on little more than laughs’