The game that stops a globe

Bleary-eyed hysteria.

Alcohol fuelled verbal abuse.

Unabashed displays of male embrace.

The air thick with conspiracy theories.

The World Cup Finals of football (soccer to you American folk) bring out the best and worst in humankind. People who in the normal course of their lives never consider the ‘beautiful game’ suddenly become informed, opinionated, learned and biased; they bathe in the pre dawn glory and sink in the post dawn sorrow.

I cannot remember what I did six minutes ago but I can remember, sometimes through alcohol-blurred recollection, where I was when the 2006 World Cup was being staged. Why is this? What is it about the World Cup that entrances us so? Is it the rivalry, the desire to know more than your fellow man or is it an artillery-less war, a way for us to conquer our foes without any unnecessary bloodshed.

I have watched almost every minute of the 2010 event – due to co-habitation with a fanatical football fan and a wealth of spare time. This tournament has not been without controversy and the referees are firmly in the spotlight again for all the wrong reasons. I promised my friends that I would not ramble on about the referees so I will just say this – employ video review technology or face ridicule. There, I said it. Sepp, if you are out there, listen and apply.

There have been some big casualties in the initial stages of the tournament – the farcical French have packed their suitcases, taken their baguettes and flown home. The English and US left their supporters with 90 minutes each of nail-biting, cynicism breeding, nausea inducing drama before the final whistle went and the fans could collectively sigh in absolute relief. This relief lasted 3 hours until the Germans disposed of Ghana and booked a second round appointment with the hapless English. They have 4 days to devise a plan to break the Kaiser’s strangle hold. Please no penalty shootouts; England’s strike force would rather drink a sauerkraut milkshake than face another penalty war with Zee Germans.

The Socceroos have departed but in style, sentencing Serbia to the lowest rung on the Group ladder, but they will feel one has slipped through the cracks. To win at the World Cup you need guile, finesse and a barrel load of luck. The signs are positive and we will have many more find World Cup memories in the land of Samba in 2014.

For now I sit and await the next selection of games – sleep deprived, full from a diet of convenience food, adrenalin and heartbreak. I may not agree with some of the outcomes from this current tournament but it has certainly been a very enjoyable ride so far. I am just thankful that I do not have join the hordes of aussie workers, eyes kept open by matchsticks, voices strained from the beer megaphone, wishing that the weekend was here. I can live and breathe the World Cup, an immersion that is rare. For me the days blend into one and when the World Cup finishes my life will be slightly emptier.

The Pied Pipers of Sippy Downs

Midnight last Saturday, after a belly stretching Middle Eastern feast, a few accompanying red wines and some aviation fuel strength Fijian rum nightcaps, all was well. The French Open Women’s Final was on the television, fellow revellers were in high spirits and the night was flowing smoothly.

When the shrill tones of an alarm penetrated my drunken coma eardrums early the following morning all was not so well. This was not to be a ‘laze about on the couch watching scrubs re-runs with McDonalds wrappers littering the room’ Sunday, I had responsibilities. It was World Environment Day at the local University and I had volunteered, along with my sister, to assist them in any way, shape or form they chose.

I anticipated lugging boxes around, handing out information leaflets, instructing people where to park or not park – the usual volunteer type activities. I did not anticipate working with children, musical instruments and performing.

Following a rushed breakfast packed with grease and fresh fruit and a frantic drive at top speed to the Uni, we reached the information tent at 9.45am. Or so we thought at the time. They could not find our registration forms but judging us to be not too dodgy, pointed at a tent way down the back of the gathering and said that we should go down and help with the children’s activities. The cardinal rule of show business is to work with children and animals for box office success but not for sanity.

We reached the tent in question and were met by the organiser of the ‘animal parade’. I began to be suspicious of what my role here could involve – I had not had a cup of coffee yet and my hangover was not improving. I would also like to point out that at the best of times I am not overly gifted in the handyman realm, these hands are for typing and cooking, not building or labouring.

We were informed that we would be assisting in building panpipes for the kids out of black piping, dowel and electrical tape. There were three different sizes that emit different notes so that in the end there was a mix of notes for the final performance/parade. Performance? Parade? Building things? Oh dear.

After a lightning fast demonstration the baptism of fire began. The first few produced were a little shoddy but after a while Sal (sister) and I had a solid assembly line going. I would cut the pipe and greet the kids, Sal would then take them through the sawing process, and then I would tape the pipe together and send them off to the organiser who would teach them how to play it.

I gave the children my witty repertoire of funny jokes and banter – well on a whole most thought I was a very tall dimwit and I lost scissors/paper/rock a number of times – but it made the time pass quicker. After 2 hours we had finished the construction phase and were convinced our time was done and we were ready to see what else they needed to get done.

To our surprise we were told that it was great to get the panpipes built and now we had to assemble our panpipe troupe as the parade was about the start. Ben you lead the green team, Sal the red. Hmmm, excuse me Sir? Lead a musical parade?

So off we went blowing our panpipes, hoping that our lungs wouldn’t expire and the children didn’t get lost or bored. Of the 65 pipes we gave out only about 6 and their owners found their way to parade so a bulk of the music was down to Sal and I. After a tour of the grounds accompanied by a butterfly on stilts, a woman dressed up as a tree and the world’s largest platypus, we arrived at the main stage to raucous applause. The kids were ecstatic, as were their parents so it was a job well done.

As I slowly walked back to the car to head home I thought to myself what a unique experience it was and how it was something I never would have thought I would do on a Sunday morning. But that is how life is a lot of the time, doing the unexpected and running with it. Makes life enjoyable and breaks the monotony. I have to go now; Sal and I have a panpipe performance to arrange. Just kidding!