State of Origin

If you’d forgotten what the word ‘forlorn’ meant all you needed was to wander around the terminals at Tullamarine the day after the recent State of Origin match at the MCG.

By John Harms

Most supporters were still in their Queensland gear. Everyone was exhausted, and becoming more exhausted, as flights were delayed and there was nowhere to park your weary body. No-one could face airport food. Beers were $14. An announcement that a flight had been moved to Gate 45 was met with a collective groan. No-one spoke. There was not enough will left to participate in conversations, even of shared grief. Just the ignominy of having to carry rolled up flags around. It was carnage. Misery. The most dispirited collection of Queenslanders I’ve seen in years.



It had started so well. Matt Prop had four tickets sitting on his kitchen bench in his unit at Main Beach. Gilbo Half was happy to get a flight from Rocky to meet up. Rabbitoh Russ, Winger of the Roy, that’s Kingaroy, was in, and I decided that if they were in, I was in too.

Flights from Up North were delayed but the Spirit of a Sports Tour was alive and well. Melbourne Town was awash with Maroon, especially in the Cricketers Bar at the Windsor, the perfect starting point for festivities. Russ and I settled in for a couple, before hearing from the others. “We’ve lobbed,” big Matt Prop texted (he was always destined to put his head in a scrum).

We were in the Greek quarter by five, plenty of time for a Mythos beer and a feast of classic taverna food, which just kept coming.

And then off to the mighty MCG. Walking. Then the tram. I love when I’m with occasional visitors to Melbourne. They just love it. Bright-eyed and thinking “How good is this.”

I feel like saying that Melburnians get to do this every week.

We had tickets all over the place so, once we got in, we all met to watch together on the concourse of the Olympic Stand, a good viewing spot around about the 20m mark. We were in a crowd of over 90,000 expectant people, 14,000 of them in the MCC Members.

Matt Prop was pleased to be able to recognize the national anthem. Rabbitoh Russ was fielding text messages from home.

And then we were away. How far Queensland?

Hang on.

Woops, that’s a big hole in the middle.

That’s a missed tackle.

Mmmm. That cow-bell. That’s not six again.

And another six? You’re kidding.

Try to New South Wales.

Try to New South Wales.

“We can’t get the pill.”

Another one. What!

More tries. 34-0.

Half-time and the balloon was pricked.

You had to laugh.

The second half was better and for a moment, the slightest moment, the possibility of a 1981 comeback entered the mind. But there was no Chris Close and, more significantly, no Rod Morris and no Russell Hancock. Queensland were outmuscled, which is very rare.

When hosting sports tourists, no matter what the result, you must walk them through the gardens back to the city. We dodged the possums.

A shortish but heartfelt post mortem ensued at the Imperial. Bed was the better option for tired and emotional Queenslanders and we went our own ways.



A new day, and I’m meeting Rabbitoh Russ near the Betty Cuthbert statue. I’m keen to show them the life of the MCG outside of a game day.

It really is a colossus and is usually alive with activity. Today they’re taking down the goal posts and restoring the Australian football posts and marking the ground. Volunteer tour guides, in their distinctive striped jackets, take enthralled tourists through the stadium, telling stories as they go.

Of course, Matt Prop and Gilbo Half are faffing around in town. One theory is that, while trying to identify a tram, they’ve walked down Little Bourke Street and popped in for Yum Cha.

Eventually they arrive and I take them on our own tour: Committee Room, Long Room, Members Dining Room, Percy Beames Bar. They’re all genuine sportsmen so they can recall the stories of Sarfraz Nawaz’s nine-for, and Bob Cowper’s triple century and they’re trying to think of a higher score that Alastair Cook’s 244 not out.

When they get to the MCC Library, they are gobsmacked. I picked it. We chat to Anne Rusden and two other volunteers and then librarians Trevor Ruddell and David Studham make us all feel at home. The discussion turns to books and the collection of books from Pat Mullins who was a north Queenslander. I’m with three blokes who really appreciate the stories, love to read good writing, and to be reminded of days past.

Maybe not last night’s game though.



So, off we go to the airport, on the high of the visit to the MCG and the Library, only to be brought down by the disappointment we find, the return flight and the prospect of the tired drive home.

Melburnians only have to survive the train and they’ll have recovered to be back at the MCG in search of a great game and a victory in a matter of days.





John Harms is a writer, historian and speaker. He spent the first half of his life in Queensland before coming south.