There I was on a bright Sunday afternoon, sitting on the stadium’s western end of the 50, rooting on the hometown Broncos. Their strategy was to be dominant on the ground in order to run through the opposition on its way to the end zone. It was sound football strategy that has worked for the Broncos in the past and would turn out to work in this 30-10 victory as well.

"Wait," you ask, "didn’t football season end with that poor excuse for a Super Bowl we witnessed last February?" The football season may have ended on that cold February afternoon, but on this extraordinarily hot March day, Footy was the place to be.

I’m here in Australia for a couple weeks and took it upon myself (read: somebody gave me a ticket) to see the Brisbane Broncos take on the What’s-Their-Knuckles Eels. I went there to watch the Footy, as they call it. In case you don’t know, there are four different footballs in Australia. Two types of Rugby that are very similar (sort of like as similar as, say, the NFL and CFL), Australia Rules Football, and there’s a big push to call soccer football, as the rest of the world besides the United States does.

Anywho, the NRL experience isn’t too different from going to a U.S. football game, in terms of fan experience anyway. Well, I guess that depends on where you’re going. I’ll take an OSU football game any day, and they don’t know what tailgating is, but aside from that, it’s not too dissimilar. Pre-game is basically sitting around listening to some kind of crappy entertainment that all too often consists of a cover band. Introducing the players is a ritual, complete with attractive cheerleaders and a cheesy mascot (Buck, the horse, in this case), even a team song that I’m sure their fans find highly entertaining, and then fans going up and down with the game.

There was one big difference though. I’d say a good 75% of the fans were still there at the end of the game, which was pretty much decided with 20 minutes left. I, myself, was shocked. Not only that, but after the game we bought a bottle of water and hung out while drinking it in the hallway for like 15 minutes, and we were hardly alone.

As far as the game went, I can now say I understand Footy, if not completely enjoy it. It seems to be some sort of controlled chaos, with just a general game strategy as opposed to a different strategy for each play. Turns out, though, that there are some rules. In case you’re every watching FSN at like 2:00 in the morning, I’ll try to explain them as best I can.

The game starts just like football, with a kickoff decided by a coin toss (which is done before they reach the field, unlike football). When you have the ball, you can be tackled up to six times, at which point you have to give up the ball. There are no first downs. You can throw the ball backwards but not forward. You can, however, kick the ball forward and if you get it back it’s still your ball. You can’t try to force a fumble, but if it happens the other team can get it. And after each tackle if you’re not 10 yar -- er, meters away, you can’t be involved in the play. Then there are some crazy penalty rules and the like.

You can score one point with a Doug Flutie-esque dropkick or a Try, which is basically a touchdown, for four points and then two extra points by kicking it through the uprights at a point directly across from where you scored the Try, but as far down the field as you want.

Sounds exciting, I’m sure, but for a sport that rarely has any stoppages of play, it was about as exciting as tennis. Sure you have your big hits here and there, but once again the actual hitting defied reputation and was decidedly not too rough (except for one big hit), compared to what you’d expect with no pads. Most of the 80 minutes (40 per half) pretty much dragged though, with spots of excitement here and there.

The weirdest part of the whole experience though was coming back home and putting on one of my 5 channels which consists of Free TV that you get in Australia (while there’s only 5, I at least get the Simpsons and it’s clear as it still goes through a cable outlet, or some kind of wire anyway), and an hour later the game being on TV. They don’t put the game’s on live! How absurd is that?! But hey, I guess they had to show the Commonwealth Games.

Which brings me to the fact that there is an international Olympics-esque competition for every country that still officially views the Queen of England as their head of state (dominated by Australia). And my God, there are a lot of them. Basically every former British colony except the U.S. It’s ridiculous. You’d think they’d all let go. Not all Americans are completely oblivious to this as George Foreman was doing some boxing commentary. There are also an absurd amount of events, with Australia having about 120 Golds and 220 medals combined. And if you want biased coverage, Fox News may have been upended by Australian sports coverage. Even US commentators during the Olympics aren’t this bad.

That said, let me tell you how I feel about missing March Madness in favor of Footy and the Commonwealth Games. I’ve been forced to follow it online while at work, because even though a segment on the news is called World Sport, they decide not to include the biggest tournament in America. Apparently we’re not part of the world. Now I know how the rest of the world feels. Sure, my darkhorse lost by one to Villanova while Long’s is in the Final Four, George Mason (!!) has advanced to the Final Four, and Ohio State choked in the second round (girls too, I believe), but I got to watch Netball and some kind of crazy curling-esque game played on a huge lawn. Not to mention cricket! Oh, the cricket!

Well mates, I’ve babbled on long enough. I think it’s time for me to go down the lift, walk past the petrol station, order myself a burger and chips, go down to the local pub (looking right first while crossing the street) and possibly get some counter food with my Toohey's, and, oh bugger, I can’t think of what else. It’s been fun, eh? I’ll make sure to get back to you all later when I’m in the States and write about something interesting. And yes, the toilets go backwards here. And in conclusion: Aussie Aussie Aussie!! Oy oy oy!!

Questions, comments, angry Australians, or anything at all, don’t hesitate to berate me via e-mail at dan@culturestew.com.