The ''Mick'' in me likens it a little bit to going to church. Whether it's prayer you're after or the soothing warmth of salted water on your battered limbs, what is important is that you feel able to drop your armour at the door and leave all those little anxieties behind as you look for quiet, warmth and rejuvenation. Which is difficult when you walk into a crowded spa full of opposition players.

Going back a few years, I was in what was almost a hypnotic state as I entered the sea baths. Because it's part of your routine over many weeks, you could almost complete these rituals half asleep - sometimes you are.

On this particular day, I wandered into the change rooms, derobed, showered and then walked out to the pool side and put my bag down. I was half submerged in the hydrotherapy pool, up to my waist in water, when I looked up and to my horror saw the entire North Melbourne Kangaroos footy team looking at me as they went about their recovery/confession. What to do? Well, in times like those it's best to pretend this is how you planned things all along, despite the voice in your head screaming ''turn around, get out, TURN AROUND, GET OUT!'' I gave a quick ''high eyebrow hello'' in the general direction of beefed-up blokes, and waded over to a corner like a discarded lamb from the flock.

I was in my early 20s at the time and hardly sure of myself in the big, tough world of AFL. So I stayed in my corner to sweat it out. After a couple of excruciating minutes, Leigh Colbert walked over and stuck his hand out and we had is what is known as the ''footy chat'': ''How's the body holding up? Where's your footy trip headed?''

At some point one of you will ask, ''Who have you got this week?'' That's the equivalent to that point in any phone conversation when someone drops the, ''All right then …'', and you both realise your little chat is over and negotiate your exits.