Written by Grand Final day 2011 began auspiciously enough. For the first time in my life, if I didn’t sleep the night before going to Disneyland, the Magic Kingdom wasn’t the cause of my insomnia.
Normally, I wouldn’t take my son Vincent to Disneyland on the day of a Cats Grand Final. It would feel like celebrating before the fact. It would seem to be tempting fate. A trip to Disneyland would normally be reserved to celebrate a Cat victory. A satisfying Cat victory. A big Cat victory. A Grand Final win would indeed be cause for celebration and a trip to “the happiest place on earth” – except that in the event of a Grand Final win, Disneyland wouldn’t be the happiest place on earth; Geelong would be.
But a trip to Disneyland before the game? On the day of the game?
No this wasn’t a case of either arrogance or supreme overconfidence. This was a matter of practicality. We had friends visiting from Sweden and Friday, Sept. 30, was the only day they could go to Disneyland. And my four-year-old wanted to show their four-year-old around the park. So it was going to be a full day: Disneyland in the morning/afternoon and the Grand Final in the evening.
Vincent woke me up early, as was to be expected. And soon after breakfast, we were off, hoping that the traffic would be moderate (generally, it’s too much in LA to hope for good traffic). We put on our Geelong caps, attached our Addy flags for display, rolled up the windows and cranked up the Beach Boys. OK, we also cranked up our footy CD with all the club songs, repeatedly playing the “We are Geelong.” When we got to the part about “our banners flying high,” Vincent made mention of the fact that our car was also flying the Geelong banner high: “just like at Kardinia Park,” as he put it.
Traffic actually did turn out to be good, and while that in and of itself might have been considered a good omen, halfway to Disneyland Vincent shouted that the flag on his side of the car had disappeared. It must have flown right off the flag stick at 65 miles-per-hour. Not a good way to start off grand final day. We were going to take the flag with us into the park for some impromptu “Go Cats” shots, preferably with some of the better-known Disney characters. Since Vincent didn’t have an angle on the flag on my side, we had to wait for our arrival at the Magic Kingdom to see whether the other flag had survived the trip. The flag on Vincent’s side which had flown off the handle was the Addy’s rectangular “Go Cats” flag from last year, while the flag on my side was this year’s Addy pennant-shaped “Geelong Cats 2011” flag, both of which we had received in the mail thanks to the amazingly kind help of Ro at the Addy.
Shortly before pulling into the Disneyland parking lot, Vincent told me that the pennant-flag was still flying. Unfortunately, after we parked the car and rolled down the window, the flag had completely frayed. Even though Ro from the Addy had forewarned me that some of the pennant flags did fray, I had hoped we had gotten a good batch. In point of fact, the flag hadn’t frayed when I drove around town with it on the side of the car. But then again, I hadn’t driven around town at 65 miles-per-hour. The flag was in such bad shape that there was no point in taking it along with us. Bad omen Number Two.
Disappointing, yes, and the loss of the two Geelong flags did nothing to calm my nerves, which seemed just as frayed as the pennant-banner. Like the Addy flag, my nerves had survived the trip to Anaheim, if somewhat in tatters. Surely, nothing that a fun day at “the happiest place on earth” couldn’t fix.
Our friends were a little late, so we passed the time waiting for them greeting Disney characters on Main Street. Vincent got his photo taken with Mickey, Gepetto, Pluto and Goofy, while he waved to Minnie and Chip (or was it Dale?). Our friends finally arrived and Vincent, a Disneyland old-hand, spent the rest of the morning showing their four-year-old daughter around, starting with a voyage on Nemo’s submarines, replete with its Aussie-accented captain’s narrative. Even though it was, of course, a canned spiel, the Aussie accent brought me back to the reality that it was Grand Final Day, and that ball up would be in less than 10 hours. Unless, the Cats and Magpies saw fit to repeat the result of the first 2010 Grand Final, in a little more than half a day, I was going to be experiencing the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat. Both a sobering and glorious thought.
Bring on the Pies!
We had lunch, and then went on to our favorite ride, Splash Mountain. We had fast passes, so we didn’t have to wait in the 45 minute line. We rode through the animatronic bayou characters, Brer Rabbit, always a foil to Brer Fox and Brer Bear, with its musical interludes and breezy Disneyness. And then the unthinkable happened. I had been on the ride dozens of times, on numerous occasions wearing a baseball cap, generally one of my many LA Dodgers caps. As we went down the main 50-foot drop into the briar patch, I could feel my Geelong cap flying off my head, never to be seen or heard from again. Vincent’s hat also flew off, but, fortunately, it flew back into the flume log. On Grand Final Day, I had lost one “Go Cats” flag to the freeway, another one to the wind, and my Geelong Cats logo cap to a flume ride at Disneyland. This was not going well. These were not good omens.
Of course, after the initial annoyance, I reminded myself that none of this meant anything and it would have been arrogant to think that what happened in Anaheim would have any relevance to the Cats’ premiership chances. Mustn’t have arrogant thoughts: it’s not Geelong-like. The only thing that mattered was would come together on the field: the lads’ form, mental preparedness and intestinal fortitude. And what was happening or what happened in Anaheim, California, had no bearing whatsoever on the results of the Grand Final, some 8000 miles away. Yes, I knew that rationally, but still when you’re that nervous it’s difficult not to think that every little thing has meaning. So lose the arrogance and banish the thoughts of omens. But I still wasn’t happy about the loss of the flags and particularly the cap.
The day at Disneyland ended without further ado or additional mishaps, at least without anything which reasonably could have been interpreted as an omen relating to the Cats-Pies match later in the evening. We made our way to the exit, hoping to return to celebrate another flag. Time to go home through rush hour traffic. In LA, that’s certainly one strategy to take one’s mind off of just about anything else. Yet as we drive home through my newfound route – the 5 to the 90 to the 110 to the 105 to the 405 – I wonder about tonight. Will we be ready? Will our boys be on? Will the Magpies turn it on in a way we won’t be able to respond to? Should I just have taken the last exit?
The answer to these questions – and more – when I get around to writing Part 2.
