C'arn the Cats!

There was something ironic, yet special, about singing the National Anthem at the top of my lungs while standing in a Chicago bar surrounded by 250 fellow idiot Australians on Grand Final day/night. A chorus that I barely knew came flooding back as the crowd, fueled by the magical taste of Coopers, burst into passionate song. It was indeed a special feeling as we all settled down to watch the AFL Grand Final from afar, especially for those Geelong supporters in the crowd who no doubt believed that another Final loss would result in the town of Geelong being removed from the Australian map.

After a few minutes explaining the basic rules to our fellow Americans, we watched the game unfold. The few Americans in the bar were vastly outnumbered...and not that popular either...with two foreign gentleman in the bathroom commenting that 'they would rather be ***** American than a Port Adelaide fan'. Three hours later, and with Jen (in her Geelong jersey) asleep at the bar, the few dedicated fans who remained threw a final fist in the air as the siren sounded. What a wonderful night it was to see Geelong finally take home the flag...and while it may have been sweeter still to share such a moment with the crazed Peat/Dunstan family in Melbourne...this was one I was glad to have seen...even if it was in a shady bar in the Midwest of America.
The following day was spent carrying a well-deserved hangover around Chicago - and some quality time spent with Jasper and Judette at the Hyde Park Jazz Festival - where some sax players blew the crowd away...no pun intended.

Pictured: We are Geelong...and the First 'Annual' Jazz Festival in Hyde Park.