Thursday 27 September
So Ryan’s only been gone for a little over twenty-four hours, and that’s all the time it’s taken for me to just about send myself mad.
It’s the superstition that’s getting to me. I find that my brain is starting to interpret every insignificant event in my day as an indicator of what we can expect on Sunday.
For example, I go for a walk and I listen to my iPod. In between songs, my brain suggests that the next song will provide some clue as to the result on Sunday. For example, if Thunderstruck by AC/DC pops up, brilliant. If Who Let the Dogs Out by the Baha Men is next in line, that presents a problem.
As it happens, MMMBop by Hanson came on next, which highlights absolutely nothing, except maybe my questionable taste in music.
(I should note, I don’t actually have Who Let the Dogs Out – or indeed anything by the Baha Men – on my iPod so phew, we’re safe there.)
I remember that the last time I saw Ryan win a grand final, his sister Carlie, was overseas. Carlie is overseas now too. Good omen.
(Incidentally, Carlie – if you’re reading this and considering any kind of surprise return for Sunday, I respectfully urge you to reconsider).
I wonder ridiculous things like, will the result of the AFL grand final have any bearing? If the Hawks win will the universe feel like it has to even up the NSW/VIC ledger? Or if the Hawks win, will it represent a good omen for our boys from Melbourne?
I start to think about packing my bag and wonder how I am going to get through an entire weekend wearing only purple? Purple’s not even really my colour, truth be told. Plus by that reasoning I’ll have to avoid blue and white altogether, which seems like quite a task, as far as fashion decisions go.
As you can probably imagine, apart from feeling a little unhinged, I also feel a little drained. Usually I don’t even believe in horoscropes, or anything else like that, so I’m not sure why this time of year turns me into a superstitious mess.
And I can’t help but wonder whether I am selling the boys short by buying into any of my self-imposed mind games. At the end of the day, the future is very much in their hands, and no amount of purple attire or AC/DC on my iPod is going to change that. To think that it would only takes away from the serious (non-crazy) effort they have put into this exercise to date.
So I am resolved to continue on for the rest of this week, ignoring the urge to read my tealeaves and woefully attempt to predict the future. And now that I think about it, I feel better already.
(In light of these developments, Carlie – feel free to make that last minute dash if you feel so inclined. I’m sorry about before.)
I enjoyed watching the Grand Final Breakfast this morning although I was mildly disappointed that Operation Hawaiian Shirt was shelved for the more traditional approach of formal club attire. I don’t really know who won the battle of ‘more relaxed’, although I did note our boys all busily swapping chocolate and banana milks during the opening address, which I thought demonstrated some comfort with the proceedings.
I also thought it demonstrated a closeness which I found to be quite cute – that they were prepared to swap their meals around to ensure that everyone had the flavoured milk they desired. Talk about teamwork.
I spoke to Ryan afterwards and he sounded really well. He seems well-rested, well-fed and extremely focussed on the final days of training for the big day on Sunday.
As for me, I’ll be busily distracting myself with homework, housework and catching up with friends. Most days I talk to one or more of the other girls, which is the very best thing to be done, I find. I think I can safely say that we all feel pretty lucky to be heading up to Sydney on the weekend to support our menfolk, and it’s not too long now before we head off on our way. Three sleeps to go, people…