I lived in Sydney for most of my life, and grew up watching League Grand Finals and going to State of Origin parties dressed in all blue. That is until I moved to Melbourne in 2017. I quickly learnt that a corner store was called a milk bar, a nosebleed was called a blood nose and that I would get funny looks if I asked for a potato scallop at a fish and chip shop. To be fair, a potato cake looks like neither cake nor scallop.

It wasn’t until 2019, however, that I finally watched a game of AFL. Some friends invited me over to watch the Richmond Tigers vs GWS Giants play in the Grand Final, and I couldn’t help but feel that this was some sort of Melbournian rite of passage. Deciding that it was probably time to see what all the fuss was about, I rocked up to the party with a cob loaf and a six pack of Furphy’s (no Tooheys Extra Dry in Victoria – go figure).

Growing up watching League and playing touch football (badly, I might add), I was shocked to see the players passing the ball forward. It took my brain a long time to rectify that no, this was actually okay (with a lot of bemused reassurance from my mates). I was fascinated by the constant ball bouncing and punching (handballing, I was quickly informed), and my inner Sydneysider was secretly rooting for the Giants like some sort of patriotic residue still existed from living there for so long.

And you know what? I begrudgingly enjoyed myself. I will always be a League fan, but it’s true that AFL is a faster game with a lot more happening, as League does tend to stop and start more.

Unfortunately Richmond won, but who knows. Maybe next year Sydney will have it’s day in the AFL sun.