Watching the Socceroos rattle a cocky France
I witness not one, but two miracles today. All the while gripping a Budweiser Zero.
I witness not one, but two miracles today. All the while gripping a Budweiser Zero.
It is 10:00pm Tuesday night at the Al Janoub stadium and a handful of Socceroos fans decked out in green and gold are preparing themselves for slaughter.
Up against 2018 World Cup title defenders France, the debut game for our humble team (brave in spirit, young in experience, and the last to qualify for the tournament) could naturally be likened to a David v Goliath feat.
But hours before Australia and France take to the pitch, I witness a match miracle: Saudi Arabia defeats the venerable Argentinian team 2-1, making Lionel Messi’s first goal of his alleged last World Cup a mere blip on the radar.
Messi is one of my all-time favourite players. I will be leaving the stadium converted by the ferocious passion of thousands of victorious fans. One man cries on my shoulder. One gives me a melted Kit Kat from a plastic bag he smuggled in with outside treats. Another gives an Argentinian fan a Saudi jersey and says ‘you're welcome.’
It feels like an underdog season. That's what I'm telling myself as I pump the Budweiser Zero six hours later, totally jetlagged. The others in my tour group don't have to rely on a placebo, they're visiting one of the tucked-away bars serving up spirits before the game.
The past few days and decade leading to the Qatar games have regurgitated the same headlines: the controversies, the corruption, and the calamitous organisation.
It’s safe to say, the atmosphere and passion for the game are severely hindered by the human rights violations of the government and the bribe-grubbing hands of the FIFA heads behind the decision.
Twelve hours before I first enter a stadium, ‘one love’ armbands are banned, aligned with the country’s criminalisation of homosexuality and stance against the player’s protests.
There’s not a single rainbow in sight, and attempts for solidarity with queer communities are completely quashed. There appears to be a disconnect - or subtle protest - in the stadium soundtracks, as anthems from Queen, Kylie Minogue and every gay icon from the 80s-90s play on repeat.
Still, the stadiums form an echo chamber the organisers were hoping for: pure focus on the sport, limited protest, and minimal misbehaviour.
Walking into Australia’s first match of the season we are utterly focused, and rapidly overwhelmed by the presence of our adversaries.
French fans are adorned with the signature cock on their head and a well-earned arrogance that justifies you thinking ‘dickhead’ as they wave a toy World Cup trophy in your face.
The anthems are being sung, the pitch is being cleared. The whistle sounds.
My expectations are managed.
And then miracle number two, before my tired eyes: Australia scores in the first 10 minutes.
The green and gold army erupts in a flood of passion, tears and disbelief as the impeccable goal by Craig Goodwin lands deep in the top right corner of the net, pummeling our dreams back to our collective consciousness.
AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE! OI OI OI!
The stadium is being drowned out by our only war cry.
For a devilish moment, I imagine our team taking home the top spot, clawing our way to an unlikely victory. Our proud nation of way too many football codes rallies with glee.
Sadly, within another ten minutes, the French team sink our chances like a sub. We walk away from the first half 2-1.
We walk away from the game 4-1.
It’s a quiet bus home, as we leave the billion-dollar Stadium, to our fan accommodation with microwaves that don’t work, and smoke alarms that go off out of nowhere.
The French fans jeer at us as we walk out, pride and pomp in full display.
“At least you’re not the worst team in the World Cup!” one yells out.
With two games to go, all I can think is hopefully Australia’s chances change as rapidly as the beer policy in the stadiums.
Bianca Farmakis is in Qatar.
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