bornadog
06-06-2013, 12:02 AM
Bob Murphy (http://www.theage.com.au/afl/afl-news/darwins-heat-and-warmth-20130605-2nqnr.html)
http://i202.photobucket.com/albums/aa198/mmsalih/art-griffen-620x349_zps6c40aaed.jpg (http://s202.photobucket.com/user/mmsalih/media/art-griffen-620x349_zps6c40aaed.jpg.html)
Darwin is the road trip quite unlike any other. As we were warming up for the game against Port Adelaide, the oddest thought came to me. Lamb chops. I could smell lamb chops sizzling on a barbecue.
It was a strange moment, the familiar smell of a thousand childhood dinners grabbing hold of my senses, but I'm not hungry. In truth, the combination of pre-game nerves, hot, humid air and the burning fat of the chops was almost enough to make me retch.
It's impossible to describe Darwin and not give at least some mention of the heat - it'd be like summarising the performance of Gold Coast and not mentioning Gary Ablett. The heat is the first thing you notice when you step off the plane, the thickness of its blanket.
The second thing you notice is that you can't believe you wore pants on the flight - this is not your first time up here and you fell for the rainy departure gates trick again.
My first trip to Darwin with the Bulldogs was in 2003 for a community camp where players were sent out all over the place to promote the game and the club, but also to soak up the Top End experience.
I was flown out to Melville Island with a few other players and we went to the local school to chat with the kids and their teachers about our experiences in the AFL. It wasn't long before we found the more common language of football.
We took these kids out onto their grassed area, threw a couple of balls out and just watched them play. It was football at its most joyous.
One of my favourite quotes is from Nathan Buckley: ''Football is music and the indigenous players never forget the tune.'' These little kids played the music by ear; not a sheet of musical structure was needed.
After a short while the heavens opened and the monsoon rains poured down, but the game kept going and the music never stopped.
That's the other thing that hits you about this place - the warmth of the people, especially the children. It seemed like the further out of Darwin you got the more affectionate the kids were.
Often we would drive into a community and within minutes we'd be throwing these tiny kids high into the air and catching them on the way down. As you threw each child, another would sidle up next to you. Seemingly without realising they were doing it, they'd either hold onto your hand or kindly stroke your arm with the gentlest of touch. Those moments were magic.
For all its gleaming moments, the Darwin trip in a football sense is a tough one, brutal even. The first 15 minutes are the best conditions you'll ever experience. The air is still, the ball is sticky and the ground at Marrara is immaculate.
Then at some point halfway through the quarter, someone turns the hose on. I don't know if it's sweat, dew or the grease from those lamb chops, but the ball and the ground start to feel like a slip 'n' slide.
If that doesn't get you then the thick heat will. You spend a lot of the night in your own thoughts telling yourself, ''keep moving, conserve your energy.'' In Melbourne, we might call that an oxymoron. In Darwin I think they call it going troppo.
The heat is oppressive and the fatigue is extreme - players from both sides just trying to pace themselves to have enough in the tank for a tight last quarter. When Justin Westhoff had a set shot I was trying to put him off by calling him ''Lanky'', hoping the irony of such a sledge would get a rise out of him or his teammates. No one seemed to notice or care. It was too hot.
When the third quarter started we picked up that tune Buckley was talking about.
It was enough to get us over the line for a win.
http://i202.photobucket.com/albums/aa198/mmsalih/art-griffen-620x349_zps6c40aaed.jpg (http://s202.photobucket.com/user/mmsalih/media/art-griffen-620x349_zps6c40aaed.jpg.html)
Darwin is the road trip quite unlike any other. As we were warming up for the game against Port Adelaide, the oddest thought came to me. Lamb chops. I could smell lamb chops sizzling on a barbecue.
It was a strange moment, the familiar smell of a thousand childhood dinners grabbing hold of my senses, but I'm not hungry. In truth, the combination of pre-game nerves, hot, humid air and the burning fat of the chops was almost enough to make me retch.
It's impossible to describe Darwin and not give at least some mention of the heat - it'd be like summarising the performance of Gold Coast and not mentioning Gary Ablett. The heat is the first thing you notice when you step off the plane, the thickness of its blanket.
The second thing you notice is that you can't believe you wore pants on the flight - this is not your first time up here and you fell for the rainy departure gates trick again.
My first trip to Darwin with the Bulldogs was in 2003 for a community camp where players were sent out all over the place to promote the game and the club, but also to soak up the Top End experience.
I was flown out to Melville Island with a few other players and we went to the local school to chat with the kids and their teachers about our experiences in the AFL. It wasn't long before we found the more common language of football.
We took these kids out onto their grassed area, threw a couple of balls out and just watched them play. It was football at its most joyous.
One of my favourite quotes is from Nathan Buckley: ''Football is music and the indigenous players never forget the tune.'' These little kids played the music by ear; not a sheet of musical structure was needed.
After a short while the heavens opened and the monsoon rains poured down, but the game kept going and the music never stopped.
That's the other thing that hits you about this place - the warmth of the people, especially the children. It seemed like the further out of Darwin you got the more affectionate the kids were.
Often we would drive into a community and within minutes we'd be throwing these tiny kids high into the air and catching them on the way down. As you threw each child, another would sidle up next to you. Seemingly without realising they were doing it, they'd either hold onto your hand or kindly stroke your arm with the gentlest of touch. Those moments were magic.
For all its gleaming moments, the Darwin trip in a football sense is a tough one, brutal even. The first 15 minutes are the best conditions you'll ever experience. The air is still, the ball is sticky and the ground at Marrara is immaculate.
Then at some point halfway through the quarter, someone turns the hose on. I don't know if it's sweat, dew or the grease from those lamb chops, but the ball and the ground start to feel like a slip 'n' slide.
If that doesn't get you then the thick heat will. You spend a lot of the night in your own thoughts telling yourself, ''keep moving, conserve your energy.'' In Melbourne, we might call that an oxymoron. In Darwin I think they call it going troppo.
The heat is oppressive and the fatigue is extreme - players from both sides just trying to pace themselves to have enough in the tank for a tight last quarter. When Justin Westhoff had a set shot I was trying to put him off by calling him ''Lanky'', hoping the irony of such a sledge would get a rise out of him or his teammates. No one seemed to notice or care. It was too hot.
When the third quarter started we picked up that tune Buckley was talking about.
It was enough to get us over the line for a win.