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the REAL Carlton Social Club?
Yeah, y'know, the one at Princes Park, the one that doesn't need posters to be blu-tacked up on game day.
The one that has the huge arse TV that overlooks everyone as soon as you walk in. It's not the latest model in the shed, it's about 20 years old, but really, if there was anything that was symbolic of the way Carlton operates, it's that TV. Hasn't changed much in 20 years, still makes you stand back and think "gee whiz, that's a top TV", if it ain't broke, don't fix it.
The one where younguns such as myself go to buy beer, even when at times underage, and ID checks consist of "Are you over 18? Righto ok, here you go.". And that beer is relatively affordable. Not "genuine 1976 prices", mind you, but thrifty enough to leave you with enough change to pick up a hot dog and record on your way to your seat.
The one that has pokies. Crap pokies. Crap pokies that the local old buggers crave. The local old buggers who don't give a stuff what's going on for the proceeding 2 hours or who wins or loses. The 2c fruit machines are available and there's a bucket full of $1 coins to be lost.
The one that has the most impressive trophy cabinet in the league. That same trophy cabinet that just lurks in a corner, not to be shown off, but is just there, commanding respect from inch to inch, trophy to trophy, deflated football to deflated football, picture to picture, newspaper clipping to newspaper clipping. It's like the bloke in the group of mates that you see at Crown every weekend. He's the biggest by a foot, he's the oldest by about 5 years, and he's the only one not starting fights or stuffing around. He knows who everyone looks up to and needs not show it off.
The one that has the help desk that contains Carlton people. Not people who go home at the end of their 9-5 shift for minimum AFL wage, people care about the club. People who you can go up to and ask how the boys are going on the track and get an educated answer. Because they give a shit. "Gee whiz, who's that huge bloke who just walked in? One of the new recruits?" "Oh yep, that's Callum. Great guy, been tearing up the track. Absolutely loves it here."
Most importantly of all, the one that adjoins onto the little dugout that remains the only AFL venue in the league that still serves banana flavoured Big M at the footy. None of this poncy ice coffee shit. No sports drinks here, no siree. It's flavoured milk, stuff you drink when you brave the elements to sit in the outer and forgot your flask and be met with the breeze running across the ground, and navy blue isn't just seen on 18 blokes running around the park, but on your fingertips too.
Yes, the rest of the ground, for mine, you can torch. Seating gives you more splinters than Kade Simpson got in the whole of season 2003. Only feasible way to get to the ground is a crowded tram where frequently you will be bailed up by someone only wanting to talk about "the wonderful Robbie Flower" and how much of a treacherous snake he is to the Melbourne Football Club, or how you wonder just how long John from the social club can keep offering hot food and cold drinks after the game.
But you see someone at Optus, you know they're not a poser. Whether it be the 80 year old Italian bloke in the Pratt stand who after being in this country for over 60 years still doesn't speak a word of English but knows the rules of the game and the player's strengths and weaknesses like the back of his hand, or the 4 year old in his first season, continually tugging at Dad's trousers to take him out to oval 1 for a kick.
Can you say the same about Telstra Dome? Brings success, but as Easter draws closer, you see the likeness of Carlton making it's home at the Dome to an Easter Egg....it's all chocolates instead of boiled lollies at the moment, but it's as twice as hollow.
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