If you know me—and nearly all of you do—you know I am not a big fan of the sportsball. Sure, I’ll go to the occasional NFL contest,* a baseball bout,*** or even an NHL skirmish†
even though a hockey game is not technically sportsball.
So you may be surprised to find me touring the Adelaide Oval. Yes, in the sun-addled land of Australia, they use the term “oval” to describe their stadiums. Why “oval”? There’s really no way of knowing, though I suspect they just felt that “rectangle” or “circle” didn’t quite capture the magic of a field where grown men chase each other for hours on end.
No, “oval” clearly has a certain je ne sais quoi, a hint of sophistication amidst the sweat, tears, and occasional lost tooth. It’s as if by calling it an “oval,” they’ve elevated the act of sportsball to a geometrical art form, transcending the mere physical dimensions into a realm where shapes are not bound by Euclidean law. Plus, it’s a handy way to confuse the rest of the world, adding to Australia’s aura of mystique.
Why was I at the Oval in the first place? Never before in my life have I been to a city that offers tours of the sportsball shrines. So why the heck not?††
Entering the hallowed grounds††† of the Adelaide Oval, I was struck by its magnificence and the palpable sense of history that seemed to seep from its well-trodden turf. Well, it was big, anyway. It’s technically been around since 1871, though it underwent a major, A$535 million reconstruction in 2014. My tour guide, a veritable encyclopedia of Adelaide Oval facts, figures, and fan fervor, regaled us with tales of legendary sportsball conquests. Clearly, for some, this is far, far more than just a particularly well-groomed patch of grass circled by an impressive array of seating options.
Now, one simply cannot discuss the Adelaide Oval without paying homage to its heritage-listed scoreboard, which has overseen the field since 1911. Before we all carried computers in our pockets and instant-replay cameras had been invented, they had to keep score of cricket games using a Rube Goldbergian system of pulleys, knobs, and dials. This mechanical marvel required an army of human operators, and it’s a relic of a bygone era that Adelaideans are loath to get rid of. So today, you’ll find game scores on both this rickety old wooden structure and the fancy digital one right next to it. God forbid they should ever disagree.
The Oval is primarily used for cricket and Australian rules football, but it’s also used to host rugby, soccer, and tennis, among other sports. Though based on our guide’s attitude, they allow those other games begrudgingly. My tour included visiting various stands and backstage areas for the teams that call the Oval home. BTW…I was the only foreigner on the tour and the only one who had to surreptitiously look up “footy”º on my phone to figure out what they were talking about. I don’t know much, but I knew to stay quiet as we walked into players’ locker rooms and team meeting rooms. Every time we walked into a team or member area, a hush fell over the rest of the group, like we were entering a sacred shrine. Whatevs.
You may wonder what Aussie rules football (footy) and cricket even are. I know I did. To save you trouble, I’ve done the research. Here you go.
Football v Footy v Rugby
You’ll be forgiven if you’ve no clear understanding of the differences between the trifecta of football-esque sports—Australian football, American football, and rugby. By Americans, though certainly not by Australians. The differences are subtle, like comparing types of headaches.
Australian rules football (footy) is what happens when you hand a kangaroo a football and tell it to go nuts. Players run around more than the Speedy Gonzalez after a double espresso on a field the size of some small countries. Points are scored by kicking the ball through a pair of big sticks. Don’t worry, though. If you miss, you still get a hearty pat on the back and a consolation point for trying. It makes American football look more like a corporate meeting in which attendees occasionally turn to violence.
Our guide was clearly a Crows supporter, making many Port Adelaide jokes that I didn't understand.
Unlike the “realness” of Australian rules football (footy), American football seems to be a series of strategic moves that last about four seconds each, followed by 17 minutes of replays, commercials, and analysis. It might be the only sport where actual gameplay is like an ad break for the ad breaks.
Rugby, on the other hand, is what happens when you take American football, remove the protective gear, and tell the players to grow a pair. Rugby prides itself on intense camaraderie, massive bruises, and an alarming lack of dental integrity. It’s a game where you can legally grab someone, roughly throw them to the ground and stomp on their neck, and then go for a pint with ‘em afterward.
Cricket
Cricket is purely bewildering. You think, “Oh, I played Little League 250 years ago, and I have a basic working knowledge of how baseball works. How different can cricket be?”
Very, very different as it turns out.
To begin with, cricket matches are longer than some marriages. They can last anywhere from a few hours to several days, a testament to both the players’ stamina and the fans’ attention spans. The game is played with a bat, a ball, and a level of patience that would make a saint nod with quiet approval.
The field, or “pitch” as it’s quaintly referred to, during play looks like a Jane Austen novel come to life with players dressed in all white as if they’re about to attend a very competitive tea party. The objective seems to be to hit the ball and then sprint back and forth between sticks stuck in the ground, called “wickets,” in a manner that suggests they’ve forgotten something important on the other side.
“Runs” are scored by running, no surprise there, but also when no running occurs at all. Runs (or points?) can also be earned if balls are heroically smacked so far they either escape Earth’s gravity or, you know, just roll over some imaginary line on the grass track playing surface green top. Cricket uses many self-explanatory terms like “Duckworth-Lewis method,” “googly,” and “silly mid-off” to help you keep up with play.
So many cricket clubs just in Adelaide. And clearly some have more money for graphics than others.
Players often appear like employees at the Ministry of Silly Walks trying to shoo away particularly aggressive flies. You might mistake their flailing arms and sudden jerks as a collective attempt to signal passing aircraft, but it is not. I’m told they’re doing it right.
The absolute pinnacle of cricket’s absurdity is the 20-minute tea break. I’m not kidding. In the middle of each game, no matter how close or how heated, everyone stops for tea. Well, to be honest, the tea break is the second of two breaks that occur during a day’s play. The first is lunch. And the opposing teams have to eat together.
For the tea break, players retire briefly from the pitch while Tea Boys set up folding tables with white tablecloths on the square (the area from which the pitcher, well, pitches), running longitudinally between the wickets. Once tea and sandwiches are set on the table, the players from both teams have to sit in an alternating pattern while they eat. Fans sit quietly and watch.ºº
I hope all that clears things up for you. I live to serve.
Anyway, back to the Oval.
Despite my skeptical cynicism, there was an undeniable certain charm to the Adelaide Oval. It could be the fan-boy enthusiasm of the tour guide and other tour-ers. Or it could be the sheer ridiculousness of the idea that grown adults willingly spend hours watching other adults chase after a ball.
Maybe I was missing something? Some deeper understanding of the cultural significance of these sports? Or just a basic grasp of the rules?
In the end, my visit to the Adelaide Oval was a perplexing yet strangely delightful experience. Despite my complete lack of interest in sportsball—and my fumble-fingered purchase of the wrong-but-right tickets—I was ultimately captivated by it all. From heritage-listed scoreboards to incomprehensible sports, the Adelaide Oval is a place like no other.
I may never understand the intricacies of what happens on that field, but I can appreciate the passion it inspires. And who knows? Maybe one day, I’ll figure it all out and find myself cheering for a footy team, caught up in the infectious enthusiasm of the crowd.
But don’t hold your breath.
Write a comment