Aussie Rules Football and American Football

Let me say this first, I like to watch American football and I have been watching NFL games for years. But I don’t like the conservative and ignorant nature of most American football fans. What I mean is a lot of them think that American football and other American sports are the greatest in the world and dismiss other sports and cultures as “for pussies”. Even though that is bothersome from time to time, I still think that American football is a fascinating sport. That is, until I discovered Aussie Rules football.

It was a cold Friday night/Saturday morning last year, and I got home late (probably from drinking). I go to the basement, turn on my TV, and start flipping through the sports channels, until I saw “AFL Grand Final”. Intrigued, I flip to that station to see that it was actually Aussie Rules football. I’ve never seen a match before, and I had time to kill, so after a quick read of the rules on the internet, I was ready to watch my first AFL game.

What I noticed in the AFL is that there are very limited stoppages in the sport, which I completely enjoyed. I was pretty annoyed of the constant stoppages whenever I watched NFL. I was tired of seeing 5 seconds of action then seeing 30 seconds of the players doing practically nothing, along with the constant commercials that go with an NFL game. Did you know that for a 3-hour broadcast of an American football game, the football is actually in play for a grand total of 10 minutes? It’s a real stat, look it up. Another thing I noticed is the limited equipment that AFL players wear, as opposed to the number of equipment that American football players wear. Also, the scores you see in AFL games are almost what you see in basketball games, while the scores in American Football games are significantly less. Other than that, both sports still have that rough nature.

Watching that first AFL game pretty much killed any interest I had in American football.  Aussie rules is a free-flowing sport, which is right up my alley. I don’t like sports to be interrupted constantly, because it doesn’t keep the watcher intrigued, and quickly leads to boredom. There isn’t a market for AFL in Canada, so the likelihood that I will end up catching another game is pretty slim, but it was incredible while I watched it. I will never look at American football the same way again. I probably won’t watch an American football game again.

My Annoyance With Facebook and My Revival With Twitter

I consider myself a late bloomer with social media. It wasn’t until the last year of high school when I started using Facebook to connect with others. Everything with Facebook was going okay when I first started using it, but as the years went on, I became annoyed with Facebook, more specifically, the constant complaining and the depression that was displayed by my Facebook friends.

At the beginning of this year, I wanted a change in social media, so I began to use Twitter. I was tired of having to hear the whining from my Facebook friends on my news feed, so I wanted to connect with new, happier individuals. Making the switch from Facebook to Twitter was the right decision for me, as I am able to follow and talk to those who have the same interests as me. Also, a lot of people on Twitter seemed to be much happier and cheerful than my Facebook friends, as I see it, and they are more comfortable with expressing themselves in a more positive way than those of Facebook. Others might see it differently, but this is just my opinion. I got a lot of stick from most of my university friends for switching to Twitter, but I’m sticking with it.

I am convinced now that Facebook is a hotbed for the insecure and those lacking in self-esteem. The vast majority of my Facebook friends are people that like shallow relationships and are concerned about how many friends they have on Facebook (because of the unspoken, and grossly untrue rule that the more friends you have on Facebook, the more popular you are). It’s quite depressing to go on my Facebook and see such things like someone bitching about how they broke a nail or lost some meaningless material thing and acting like it’s the end of the world, or seeing your typical girl talk those slutty-style pictures of themselves or her friends in front of a bathroom mirror. I am aware that this sometimes happens on Twitter too, but you see hundreds more on Facebook. Honestly, I can only laugh at these people.

There was an instance on Facebook last year where I would say around 75% of my Facebook friends changed their profile pictures to an image of a childhood TV show that they used to watch, in order to “stop child abuse”. I cannot believe the stupidity and idiocy of the people who changed their profile pictures for this. If you want to make an effort to stop child abuse, maybe you should actually go outside and physically do something about it. Sometimes, I think Facebook encourages you to be a retard.

I actually pondered deleting my Facebook account, but I have distant cousins who my only link with them is with Facebook, so I can’t do that. Twitter is now the main social media site I use now, and I’m going to stop using Facebook completely. Everybody has their own cup of tea. Well, I just vomited the tea from the Facebook cup and now drinking from the Twitter cup for years to come.

What Toronto FC Means to Me

Five years ago, I went to my very first Toronto FC game at BMO Field in 2007. The week before was a monumental achievement for the club as Danny Dichio scored the first goal for the club in the 24^th minute (cue flying seat cushions). What I could remember before going to my first match was the excitement that there was actually a professional soccer team in the city. Before that, I would only follow Manchester United, but I was happy that I can finally support the local club, instead of a club from another country for the longest time. Little did I know, but those 5 years would shape me as a person and an individual lover of the beautiful game. I became emotionally attached to the club.

I think a reason why I feel so attached to the club is because I like to read up a lot on footy culture around the globe. I like to read about the football culture in places like Europe, South America, Asia, and Africa. I found it very fascinating, and when Toronto FC started, I think it was important that the supporters created their own football culture in the city of Toronto. It is very unique here, and even now when the atmosphere has died down a bit (mostly due to very high ticket prices), there still is that experience to enjoy. There have been some ups and downs (a lot of them) in the club’s short history, but the experience is still there.

Throughout the difficulties that faced me in high school and university, I can always grab tickets, head off to BMO Field and catch a Toronto FC match. I call it my getaway from the pressures of life. In high school and university, it’s so easy to be caught up in something that isn’t you or to do something that would make you uncomfortable. I can honestly say that BMO Field is the only place where I can truly be myself. Where I can just forget everything and have a good time, whether it is a win, draw, or loss.

I do realize that the Toronto FC owners have made some wrong decisions regarding the welfare of the club (or some supporters would say, have completely mismanaged the club). They have made some good investments (real grass on the pitch, new academy facility), but it’s just the bad decisions that stick out like a sore thumb, such as insanely high ticket prices, the revolving door of management, and miscommunication between them and the supporters groups. I personally don’t try to let it affect me that much. I just hope that the front office don’t make a fatal decision that kills the club for good, because if Toronto FC is lost, then a part of me is lost.

I could go to the most wonderful vacation spot in the world and not get the same happiness that I do from going to a Toronto FC game. If God came up to me and make me choose between heaven and Toronto FC, I would tell God…Toronto FC is my heaven.

Soccer Parents and Their Children

A few times during the summer, I would go and watch my cousin play soccer. I think he is a very talented player and if he continues playing well, it could be possible that he could play in a professional league in the near future. But all too often, I see parents of other children playing soccer constantly engaging in unacceptable behaviour, such as yelling at the referee, or other parents.

I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen parents yell at the referees, at the coaches, at other parents, and also at their own young children just for playing a sport that they love to play. I’ve seen ejections of parents from the field, as well as confrontations with the referee, and with other parents. I’ve even seen actual fistfights take place which had to have police involvement. Forget what you hear about “hooliganism” on shows like “The Real Football Factories”. These are the real nutcases.

Do these parents honestly think they are creating a positive environment for their children by constantly yelling and swearing at people?  They are only ruining the experience for the child. Seeing them get ejected from the field because of their behaviour is not only embarrassing for the parent, but for the child as well. Sometimes, when I watch confrontations occur between parents of opposing teams, I find it shocking that these people are acting like the children, rather than the real children themselves, over a meaningless soccer result. It’s just a game parents, it’s not the freaking World Cup Final. Let the referee and the coaches do what they are supposed to do, and more importantly, let the kids play.

A lot of these parents who would yell at other people on the field and confront others look at their child or children as “winning lottery tickets” rather than actual human beings with feelings. They are obsessed with winning and would look to profit off their kid’s potential success, and I find it utterly sad. I understand that it means a lot to parents to see their son or daughter play, no matter what sport. But at the end of the day, it’s just a game. There are lessons to be learned by all who participate and attend, whether if the team wins or loses.

My First “Patdown” Experience at BMO Field

A few weeks ago, during Toronto FC’s loss to DC United, there were incidents where there were flares being lighted and smoke bombs being set off in supporters sections at BMO Field. In response to this, the TFC front office enacted searches at all gates going into the stadium for all home games onward, because implicitly according to them, everybody, young and old, would bring a flare or a smoke bomb to the stadium. A bit of an overreaction by the front office? I think so.

Fast forward to May 4, TFC had a home game and I had tickets to the match. Now before the match, I was worried about how the security was going to pat me down, and it made me a little uneasy. I met up with my cousin who I was going to the match with and told him about the searches that the security was going to conduct. I think my cousin was worried about guys feeling on his ass or his testicles or something.

We take the train down to Exhibition Station and head to the nearby pub for a drink, keeping in the back of our minds that going to the stadium was like going to the airport in the United States, very unpleasant. After the drink, we start to head down to the stadium. When we got to the gate, there was a lineup, expectedly. Now I fully expected to get the patdown. It was engrained in my mind that in order to gain entrance to the stadium, I had to get searched.

So we are at the gate, and we see a bunch of the security guys conducting the searches, but on one of the lines, there was a woman doing the search. Frankly if it was up to me, I’d rather want her touching my ass than some guy, so we stood in her line. When it was my turn up, I already had my hands out to the side and my feet already spread. She let go the people in front of me without a search, but I expected her to search me because I had it etched in my mind. She only searched my sides and let me through. As for my cousin, he didn’t get searched at all!

I probably shouldn’t have made this a big deal, but damn, I found this experience very interesting, and weird.

Upper-Middle Class Suburbia and the Gang Culture

The above picture is an accurate representation of the most spineless, wimpiest people in high school.

I went to a high school where there were a lot of, what do you call it, privileged people where they could get pretty much anything they wanted if they whined and begged their parents enough. Throughout my years of high school, I felt more and more out of place, as students would show off their newest cell phone, or their shiniest jewelry, and I didn’t have any of that (I didn’t get a cell phone until Grade 12). But there was a bunch of people that I just looked at, and I don’t know whether to laugh at them, or feel sorry for them. These were the kind of people that would wear their uniform pants extremely low, have some sort of bandana on the back pocket of those pants, and walk like they have some sort of limp leg. That’s right, these were the wannabe gangsters.

At first, I never really understood why these White, Black, and Asian people would try to be someone they clearly aren’t. I know that certain people want to try to fit in, by not being their true selves, to be considered “accepted” by mainstream society. But these wannabes at my high school live very privileged lives, their parents make six-figure salaries, and these people have all kinds of material things. These people would all try to act “thug” and would ultimately try imposing themselves by threatening others into doing whatever they want. A few of these people realized that being “gangster” was only a phase and quickly stopped acting that sort of way, but there were others who acted like they came straight out of South Central Los Angeles (or to use a local neighborhood, Jane and Finch)and continued to act that way throughout their years at high school.

One day in Grade 11, one of these wannabe gangsters was causing trouble in the hallway with his red flag under his back pocket. Now I knew this kid, so I said something at him and this kid started talking shit to me. Dude then pushed me against the lockers. I knew that time that I had to teach this kid a lesson, so I gave him an ass-whooping. No teachers were around. It was just me, him, and whatever crowd that formed. It was probably one of my proudest moments in high school. After the scuffle, he said that he was “gonna get his Bloods after me”.

To this day, neither he nor his friends even dared to come after me.

I guess the moral of this story is to not to try to be something that you aren’t, but rather to forge your own positive path towards personal greatness by being your true self. Those punks who like to act “thug” will only see negativity and will end up in jail rather than the glory they seek. We are all good people; it’s up to us to realize it.