By Lynda Carroll
There’s a quiet presence in Yarra Park these days; that huge stadium that so many of us love, full of stories and memories. Normally it’s part of our everyday, whether we go inside, around or past it on the busy roads, trams and trains. It’s a landmark, a holder of records, part of a walk; a centre for meeting, spectating, playing and adding to the collective consciousness.
The Melbourne Cricket Ground is so much more than its name, so much more than light towers, rooms and seats. It’s a collection of all our personalities and achievements, our affiliations and our seasons. And – right now – it’s empty.
It’s been very different in 2020. Few make it through the gates these days. There are warning signs outside, the AFL fixture is defunct, and the last cricket game to be played at the ground was the wonderful ICC Women’s T20 World Cup cricket final, won by Australia on 8 March. With over 86,000 in attendance, there was an extra sense of celebrating being at the MCG while there was the chance. By the time Richmond and Carlton met for Round One of the AFL season on 19 March – just eleven days later – the world had changed. There were no spectators, and the echoes of this solitary game provided a forlorn reminder of how it should be, but won’t be for some time yet.
We will eventually return to the MCG, of course. Even as the ground shut down, the siren still sounded; a familiar refrain during the football season. Since that time, the light towers have been part of a temporary procession of glowing blue, all shining bright to commemorate the tragic deaths of four police officers. People still make their way through Yarra Park, the arena is still maintained – after all, you can’t stop grass from growing – and the ground itself seems to be gathering this episode into its soul.
We have been here before, it seems to be saying. Remember the VFL’s lean seasons in World War I? How about when the Marines and the RAAF camped here in World War II? We know absence and difference. We’ve seen everything from Olympics to Commonwealth Games, concerts and cinema viewings. We’ve been here week after week as the tribes of the AFL show their true colours, as cheers echo down stairwells, seagulls swoop for hot chips at three-quarter time, and club songs and national anthems ring out in recognition of who we are and what we hold most dear.
We have been here before. We have seen brilliant batting on baked pitches, a quiet murmur of appreciation in Shield games, the theatre of one-dayers, the patience of a Test match unfolding. We’ve dealt with everything from humidity to thunderstorms, scoreboard fires and dubious umpiring. This is where we gather. We will be back again.
There is no doubt that the MCG is missing its people, its raucous inhabitants, its venerable visitors, the little characters who gaze out wide eyed and pound up and down the stairs. There’s nobody there to buy the Record, nobody grabbing a cold drink in between innings, nobody trying to locate their seat or having a kick to kick session in Yarra Park after a game. There are no sixes being hit over the boundary, no goal kicking celebrations, and all the seats are vacant.
Of course, we are all missing the MCG as much as it is undoubtedly silent and sad without us. This latest chapter of its story in a tough and trying time is not a glorious one. But it is part of the MCG’s story as much as it is part of our own. As much as we can’t wait to get back to the MCG, we will wait, and we will enjoy it all the more when we return…
…especially if Melbourne has a win!
