The types of people you see at an AFL match in Melbourne

THE bloke who just needs another pot before he sits down. The old badge lady. And you don’t want to be stuck next to this guy on the train home. These are the types of fans you just can’t avoid at the footy.

LIKE a trip to the zoo, attending an AFL home and away match exposes you to a mismatched group of patrons from all over, more in touch with their primal instincts than ever.

Seemingly an array of species that Sir David Attenborough could spend a lifetime analysing.

Here are just 10 such types of people you might encounter at the footy.

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THE STRANGER ARGUER

No matter how many football matches this person attends, they are astounded to find people cheering for the opposition.

Better start an argument with a stranger about it.

In no time, innocent footy-goers are caught in a crossfire of rhetoric and put-downs as perfect strangers make the most of their differences.

When the stranger arguer’s teams kicks a goal, and particularly if they reclaim the lead, hearty and repeated calls of “How about that, huh?” are inevitable.

THE PROVEDORE

Like the spice markets of the orient, a feast of plenty unfolds from this patron’s cooler bag.

Cheeses, quince paste, olives, almonds, dates, sun-dried tomato and smoked salmon are laid out across their lap.

Thermoses with soup, tea, and hot chocolate are balanced precariously on the knees.

Good luck squeezing past once the engorging is underway.

MCG FOODIE PROMISES TO UP HIS FEAST GAME

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None shall pass.

OLD BADGE LADY

She looks like she could predict your office footy tipping fortune by reading your palm.

Badges cover every centimetre of clothing and you imagine her living room would look the same.

Fraser Gehrig, Damian Cupido, Mark Harvey and Wayne Carey in a Crows top all might make an appearance; her scarf, coat and beanie make a fading mobile museum of half-forgotten players and long lost dreams.

But the old badge lady remains philosophical even in the face of crushing loss — no matter how long ago, she remembers the taste of premiership victory, and that time will come again.

POT BLOKE

Want to go for a quick pot?

That’s the start of at least a whole quarter standing in the bar watching the game on a screen while the real thing takes place 20m away.

Having met up at the pub for a pot before the game, pot man made sure he got to the ground early for a cheeky pot before grabbing a pot just before quarter time, half time and three quarter time.

Grab a pot before we head home? Why not.

Where footy was meant to be watched.

THE MEMBER

Stand back, everyone.

This person’s scarf is letting everyone know they’re a paid-up member.

And if that wasn’t enough, the four bumper stickers on their European hatchback from ’15, ’16, ’17 and ’18 show they’re totally devoted.

A raised eyebrow above Swiss-framed glasses invites you to ask if they are indeed a member.

“Yes, I’m a paid-up member,” is the response.

“And you? You just attend games and wear merchandise like a common peasant. You should be a member. A member like me.”

THE YELLY SWEARER

A full forward misses a set shot? Better scream abuse.

The umpire makes a dodgy call on deliberate out of bounds? Better let fly in the foulest way permitted by the English language.

As parents wrap scarfs around the ears of young children, the yelly swearer provides a loud education on the particulars of disturbing insults.

And they show no sign of shutting up, even when their embarrassed friends tug on the elbow of their jacket in a vain appeal to stop the c-bombs.

An angry Sydney Swans fan gestures during a match. Picture: Nigel Hallett

THE SEAT GUARDIAN

Mind if I sit here? Absolutely out of the question.

The seat guardian, like a troll under a bridge, has scarfs and jackets across most of the row and none shall pass.

Their two dozen friends will be arriving very soon after attending to some very important business at the Red Rooster van outside and these seats are completely off limits.

By quarter time the friends still haven’t arrived but the seat guardian would sooner die than let anybody else be comfortable.

RADIO MAN

Not content with the visual stimuli of Australian rules, radio man needs to hear the call.

With earplugs Araldited to his head and a sustained faraway glare, it takes three screams of “excuse me” and a violent shake of the shoulder before radio man will let you out of the row to go to the loo.

Radio Man is deaf to the world.

BALL

Like Hodor, this person only knows one word: ball.

The spectator could sit silently for twenty minutes until a dubious tackle extracts an adamant “Ball!”

Followed by “Ball!” while standing, with hand motions and then a more subdued “Ball” while seated if the umpire doesn’t call it.

A reminder of their expanded vocabulary is sometimes provided with a “Yes!” and a clap when ball is actually called.

THE METRO TENOR

This guy’s team just won a home and away round of football and everybody on this train is going to know about it.

Celebrating as if peace has been declared in the Pacific, the Metro tenor, in a moth-bitten beanie and holding uncovered alcohol, starts up the team song.

A few others sing along for a while but only his closest friends come back for round two.

Even they abandon him the third time around.

The Metro Tenor spotted in his natural environment.

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