Bedtime was strictly at 7:30pm when I was five years old. But in the unwritten law of footy culture, my first Origin took precedence.
No doubt many more brash five-year-olds were wide awake well into last night, getting their first taste of Origin footy, as NSW left it late with a series win for the ages.
One thing’s for sure—there’ll be no grumpy moods south of the border this brilliant blue morning.
That’s what this unique Origin phenomenon is—midweek elation or heartbreak, calling in sick to celebrate or to recover from woes, and yes, kids up late learning the ecstasies and agonies that come with any truly spiritual experience.
Game III was a match unlike the first two in the series, reminiscent of the 80s and 90s—bloody foreheads, busted lips, winded bodies. Scrappy, gritty, tight, physical, gutsy and to the absolute death.
Big hits were flying in set after set. It took well over an hour for Jarome Luai and Bradman Best to open up the game and combine for the first try, to set up a thrilling chase to the final siren.
Some solo Mitchell Moses magic put to bed any doubts about the Blues’ chances three minutes later, after he beat three Queenslanders to the line for the first NSW decider win in Brisbane since 2005.
For New South Welshmen and Queenslanders alike, these moments in Origin footy are what we live for.
Victorians will keep telling us Aussie Rules is the sporting soul of this nation. We’ll have none of that.
Adrenaline, intensity and pride might be common across all codes of sport, but only Origin has the ability to bring millions from the best third of this country to the edge of their seats in trembling anticipation of glory.
This isn’t about blowing out the margin kicking six-point goals and racking up kilometres running up and down the pitch.
In this arena you’ll find modern-day gladiators throwing their whole body on the line in a hard-hitting bid to win at all costs.
It’s the closest thing we have to a domestic world cup. It’s a spectacle elevated by its rarity, decided often by the smallest of margins and the deftest moments of individual and team brilliance.
That controlled sense of danger and nail-biting thrill is magic capable of captivating a five-year-old the same as it does an eighty-year-old. The spirit of Origin captures everyone.
Just as it did back when I was five, yesterday my shaking right knee reverberated through the whole sofa, both hands unconsciously clenched in front of my face the entire last ten minutes.
I think back often to my first taste of Origin magic in 2006. It aligned with Queensland’s near-decade of dominance. Well, just my bad luck.
But by the time I finally witnessed NSW break the drought years later as a teenager, bedtimes were well a thing of the past.
Thankfully, the five-year-olds of 2024 enjoyed what I never did, tasting sweet victory in the Colosseum of Origin football. But for another year, it’s now back to bed on time.