ANZAC day at the MCG

I have seen three AFL games in my life. I enjoy and almost understand the rules of what, to us Brits at least, seems a slightly eccentric sport. 

My Australian in-laws, who are huge Essendon Bombers’ fans, took me to all three matches. I am now an honorary Bombers’ fan, though I have yet to see them win. My in-laws think I may be an unlucky charm and are considering banning me from future games, unless my record improves. Though still a novice analyst of the footy, I suspect that the problem lies more with the Bombers’ form than mine. 

My third AFL game was on ANZAC Day at the MCG last year. Over 90,000 of us heard moving words about service and sacrifice before the game, and the two national anthems beautifully sung by service personnel. 

The ceremony reminded me that, as a postwar baby boomer, I have been considerably more fortunate than my forefathers. I have never had to face the prospect of fighting and maybe dying for my country. In 1942, in his early twenties, my 21 year old father, who’d survived the London Blitz, was shipped to Egypt for the rest of the war, while, in 1944, my father-in-law was trapped for months under constant bombardment on the Anzio beach head. Both my grandfathers fought in the trenches in World War One. One was deaf in one ear from a shell that exploded next to him; the other won the Military Medal for bravery. I am both proud of and humbled by the service of these men.  

These are nervous times for the World, with conflicts raging in Ukraine and the Middle East. These wars seem too close for comfort here in the UK. We have Ukrainian neighbours who have had both sets of parents lodging with them in their modest terraced house for large parts of the past four years, while friends of ours have been able to offer accommodation to Ukrainian families seeking refuge. To give my current anxiety some context, London is the same distance from Kyiv as Hobart is from Rockhampton and closer to Tehran than Hobart is to Bali.Though I am too old to fight now, I worry about what the future might hold for my little London grandsons, one of whom, by chance, will celebrate his fifth birthday on April 25^th. The annual poignant ceremony at the MCG, in which Australians and New Zealanders honour those who served and sometimes made the ultimate sacrifice, is a powerful reminder that we must never let this happen again.

Richard Perrins

Posts by Richard Perrins