I rarely post in this forum, though I have been a member for a while. This is largely because I live in the UK, in Birmingham, from where I have been a distant observer of the Blues for the past twenty years (the last game I saw in the flesh was the 1987 Grand Final. Rhys! Sticks! Molly!). I never feel qualified to discuss players I know only by name, stats and the radio broadcasts I listen to early on Saturday mornings (in Summer, too! How weird!), but the Blue in me just will not die. I have been a long standing member (love the emails inviting me to games! Just a bit far to go!) and my support has become more fervent in the past few lean years.
Being a Blues supporter in Birmingham has its difficulties. This is because the local football team (not Villa) has the same nickname. It means that one has to be a bit circumspect before wearing my Blues beanie out of the house in case I am mistaken for the wrong type of supporter (and you think Collingwood supporters are bad...). Even the jumper creates problems. When I wore my Carlton home guernsey to the shops one week, my Chelsea-hating butcher wouldn't serve me, asking me how much they paid me to wear it.
As it happens, I like running along Birmingham's canals. Yesterday (in late november) it was freezing. I put on my thermal running gear, but just to give myself more protection I pulled on my sleeveless Carlton away strip for a bit of extra protection, and went for a jog.
Jogging sometimes attracts unwanted attention from fat-arsed Poms whose idea of exercise is watching the X Factor, and I am used to a bit of ribbing. As I have the physique of a decent CHB (194cm, 90kgs, oh Carlton! I have been waiting for the call for 40 years!), I usually run towards them and that shuts up the fat bastards fairly quickly.
Yesterday, I noted a group of three men staring at me as I ran toward them. A bit less sedentary looking than your average Pom, but I still presumed trouble was coming. But as I got close to them, instead of shouting out something wittily sarcastic like 'run you bugger', or of equal banality, the middle one shouted, in a clear Australian accent 'Baggers for the finals next year!'. I was so shocked, it took a moment to register what had been said. 'Absolutely!', I replied, and ran on as if in front of the Heatley.
A pic of me in action below. It was only afterwards I realised my resemblance to Captain Carlton.
http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3192/305 ... 51.jpg?v=0