Feb 03 2020

The list of things imported from the United States of America to the island nation of Australia includes: McDonald’s; Pepsi Cola; 7/11; Happy Days; the comedic stylings of Arj Barker; many very fine movies; and the deadly cigarettes of Marlboro.

There's been rap music, Dr Pepper and all the drugs.

Tina Turner even promoted rugby league.

If it’s happened or happening - or even happening - in America, chances are it’ll head across the Big Blue ditch to Australia soon enough.

And yet we’ve never adopted tailgate parties. And why not? For surely if there’s a cultural activity Australians enjoy most it’s barbecuing meat while drinking beer and watching football on the television.

That’s what Australia was built upon, that’s what’s made Australia the thrusting middle power of nationhood we are today.

A San Francisco 49ers fan man.

No it didn’t. But we do love to barbecue meat, and drink beer, and watch football on the box. Why do we get Doctor Pepper but not tailgate parties? What is doing, Cross Cultural Influencers? Why would you tell us about Robin Hood, Russell Crowe, and not tailgating?

Tailgating?

Come back with us a few years ago in the midst of Jarryd Hayne-mania, and we're in a car park the size of a mighty American mega-mall with Club 49, one of the legion of San Francisco 49ers supporter groups who set up shop before each home game in a parking lot near Levi’s Stadium, Santa Clara.

And there they form a small city of buses and RVs and pick-up trucks decked out with televisions and sound systems and barbecues, and they ‘tailgate’, which is one of the most fun things you do before a football match short of playing golf with Arj Barker.

There are fans from Canada and Australia and the United Kingdom. There are fine big chunks of New York steak and mashed potato and corn, and meaty little pork balls of some description that are sweet and meaty and delicious.

And there is beer and shots of Grey Goose vodka downed ritually by a happy pack of supporter people.

The police are here, indeed they enjoy the steaks and pork balls before boarding mountain bikes to help police what must be close to 50,000 people, most of whom will not see the game live.

Barbecue, beer and football: and it's not in Australia, why?

Hip-hop music booms from speakers. That some of it actually urges people to "fuck the police" matters not a jot. It is party time, all ages, and a very good vibe.

And so we raise thimble-sized plastic cups and knock down shots and loudly proclaim “Niners!” And “Argh!”

I meet a couple of good dudes from Canada, “Jo-Jo” a local man wearing a Mardi Gras necklace, and Kevin Gibson from Toowomba who like me has found the club with a Google search of “49ers” and “tailgate”.

Nearby is a bloke DJ-ing out of a bus. There are masses of massive tour buses, it makes sense to car-pool given a single parking spot costs $160.

Baltimore Ravens people here in purple. They have a bus. Probably haven't driven 2,848 miles from Baltimore, though, that would be stretching fandom.

Kansas City Chiefs fan. Don't make him angry.

There’s the smell of smoke, beer, shots. Even the odd sweet bit of weed.

So then you leave and cross a highway and head towards the giant square stadium and you come to … a whole other carpark, with another 50,000 or so people eating and barbecuing and doing something with beanie balls tossed into a lump of wood with a hole in it.

And you wonder afresh: why isn’t this in Australia? Maybe not the beanie ball thing, that seems a bit pointless.

But the music, beer, television, and greater cultural shared tribal experience of standing about in your colours … it's sports supporter gold.

And so to the stadium and many metal detectors and people searching bags, such are the times.

We’re through a couple of check-points manned by friendly battle-axes, up an elevator, out into the media centre and to our seat in front of a giant glass wall.

And there it is: Levi’s Stadium. And it is magnificent. All gleaming glass and tens of thousands of red seats, and hi-res big screens of mega-million mega-pixels.

The field below is a brilliant, billiard-table surface of crisp white lines and red-and-white paint and iridescent yellow posts. It makes Suncorp look like Lidcombe Oval.

One entire side is a giant flat wall of glass like a sky-scraper backed into a stadium. The rest is all red seats full of people in red football jumpers. It’s brilliant.

A fog-horn as if from the Lusitania, say, or the QEII, goes off to tell us that it’s an hour from “player introductions” which is when the players run out for the acclamation of the people.

Village of the Chiefs

There’s Niners Man (he may be called), the mascot thing, a Yosemite Sam-like prospector with a beard and mattock. Men in shorts run the length of the field with flags. There are fire breathers and many women in long white boots. There are men with drums banging out beats like that song by Fleetwood Mac, bump-ba-bar, bump-bum-bar, etc.

Here come the players! The Ravens run out in their white suits, and there are boos. The Niners ancillary guys run out, the kickers and punters, those guys. People are still booing. Probably not at them. They’d more likely get complete ambivalence.

Many cheer girls line the runway from where there Niners are about to emerge. There’s a tunnel and the players are gathered before that, bubbling about. And here they come! And the flag men run about and great gussets of flame launch from the mouths of a fire-breathing troupe, and here come the Niners’ Star Men: NaVorro Bowman and Alex Boone and Jordan Devey, a bunch of other guys. Carlos Hyde, Vernon Davis.

Colin “C-Kap” Kaepernick runs out, something of an enigma. Locals aren’t yet sure whether to love him, particularly as he's yet to take a knee during the national anthem to protest.

Niners fans: not Muppets

Yes, he led them to the Super Bowl as a rookie in 2012, but the Niners are 1-4. Quarterbacks tend to own results, like halfbacks and cricket captains if not politicians.

We see some military types on the stage, holding flags. There’s the brilliant national anthem, belted out by a girl with huge pipes. And as she reaches that spine-tingling crescendo, fireworks shoot out of the stadium scoreboard and four Harrier fighter jets of the Marines roar overhead. And the hair on your arms stand stiff like porcupine needles. It is brilliant. Top stuff, United States of America.

The four captains from each team stride out from each side to shake hands and man-hug. The Niners have five captains, I don’t care to research why. The mighty fog-horn of the Lusitania goes off again. There’s a sound like a space ship is about to launch out of Battlestar Galactica, a noise that builds up as kicker runs in to get us under way. And everyone is yelling. And it’s everything you can do not to run out into the media centre and crash tackle someone, anyone. For truly the joint is ready to rumble.

Then the kick-off goes over the kick return man’s head and all that build-up leads to teams swapping sides. It’s a common theme. Kickers boot the ball dead. The game starts again on the 20-yard line. They could brush the kick-off and just start from the 20-yard line. Or penalise the kicker if the ball goes dead on the full with a restart on the 30 or 40 or halfway.

Just a thought.

Niners fans: Like footy fans with tailgate parties and a game called corn hole.

Otherwise – apart from the many breaks in play for television and timeouts and for reasons unknown that stretch 11 minutes of actual in-play game action into three-and-a-half hours of drawn-out standing about – it’s a brilliant spectacle.

There is beast-like defence and super-fine throwing and acts of tremendous bravery, men catching the ball knowing they’re about to be really badly belted by committed, physical belters. The quarterbacks arms are strong and super-accurate and receivers catch the balls thrown at great velocity in two hands above their heads. It’s skilful, fast, dynamic and brutal.

And it’s great fun. And they should bring it to Australia like they brought Major League Baseball. And if not an actual NFL game (because it would probably cost a lot of money) then at least let me take home these tailgate parties.

They’d certainly last longer than Dr Pepper.