It’s only June but the football is still more interesting than Big Brother or The Bill.

SASHLEY Sampi’s mark in Round Seven of the AFL competition set all willing hearts racing. As the West Coast Eagles player rose over the pack with a well-timed leap, he received a second lift for a clean, gravity-defying moment of sheer beauty. Melbourne opponent Adem Yze, of course, took the credit saying that he gave Sampi a push trying to deflect his path from the flight of the ball. Instead, Yze pushed him up into the clouds where god lives.

Some have said this is the best high mark ever. Essendon’s Gary Moncrief has taken the best low mark recorded on video, when he took the lift from his opponent in a lateral fashion. Rather than flying higher, Moncrief took possession with his body fully extended parallel to the earth in splendid isolation from ground or man. He crashed heavily which, according to Sheedy, finished his career. Barrie Robran always said that getting up high wasn’t the problem. Coming down was. When Sampi looked down to the ground which, at that moment, was a long way away, his touchdown was clear of man or limb. Sampi landed on all feet like a cat.

The best high mark I remember happened at Prospect Oval in the 1980s. North’s rover, Tony Antrobus, a young man in a rude hurry, was like Sampi: a lean, light player. At five feet and 10 inches, Antrobus was an aggressive rover, mixing suspensions with a Margarey Medal. I was sitting on the outer steps at Prospect Oval on a sunny winter afternoon, eating my pie. The opposition was attacking along the outer with a high ball to a leading forward. The ball was too high. The forward stood, waiting. Tony had a 20-metre run-up, jumped with perfect timing and for a glorious moment stood with the soles of his boots on the shoulders of his opponent. He took possession, went straight over the player and hit the ground running. He passed the ball to a North leading forward who marked and goaled. This happened in slow motion. It was the most peculiar sensation of watching a man stepping up and over another man in one beautiful graceful step, that was so perfect even the umpire forgot to blow his whistle. There were no TV cameras at Prospect Oval on that day. Later in the week, The Advertiser printed a fuzzy snap of the mark which gave it no credit. Its memory only lives in the minds of those who saw it.

I rate this mark above the brilliance of Modra, Ablett and Smith who constructed their marks in the middle of packs, using them to absorb some of their momentum to cushion the fall. Antrobus’s leap was one-on-one and, like Sampi’s, showed a catlike ability to land on his feet. The perfect high mark isn’t only about the bravado of high flight – take note Brett Burton. It’s about getting possession and immediately putting the ball to team advantage. Barrie Robran’s high marks weren’t as spectacular as these but didn’t need to be. I can remember at least three or four occasions when he rose above the pack, took possession and shot a handball out to a running player before he hit the ground. There is the spectacle and then there is genuine brilliance.

The first kiss of a new venue

ONCE I played tennis with my brother-in-law in a closed stadium in Beijing on an artificial surface. It felt more like a cultural encounter, than a sporting one. My Australian tennis was wind, bright summer skies, a hot surface, towels, and a bucket of water. Inside that airconditioned Beijing building, the venue was more imposing than any need to beat my brother-in-law.

All first-visited sporting venues are beauties waiting to be held. It’s like leaving an airport, entering the suburban fringe and then seeing the structure of a brand new city, like San Francisco, for example, reveal its unique form, on par with the first time your beloved removes their clothing. Telstra Dome is a dark place when you first enter. It’s the shock of an indoor venue for an outdoor sport. Volleyball, basketball and squash are held indoors and you are prepared for the claustrophobic controlled nature of those sports. But Australian football has always had a great confrontation with the weather. The six goal shifting wind. The spread of afternoon shadow over the ground. The angled sun in the players’ eyes. The huddling together in front of the stand, close to your mates, to escape the winter chill. But Telstra Dome folds its light inside its layers, like entering a cave with bright lights at its apex. The first impression is that you have walked onto a television set, not a field of battle.
There were only 16,000 people at the Kangaroos/Port game in a city with a television market of over two million. On that day, anyone could have bought a $16 ticket to watch a good game. Last January I spent £43 for a ticket in the Tottenham Hotspurs’ White Hart Lane stadium for a FA fixture in a near capacity house. I walked for 50 minutes from the closest tube station to the venue with thousands of others, which was good for my health but it was still a long, hard slog. My seat was high up, away from the action, chillingly cold, few women, no children, segregated fans. By contrast, AFL is cheap and democratic at the Dome. Why do Melbourne people consistently neglect the non-blockbuster games?

Nearly halfway

AT the four-minute mark of the second quarter in Round Eight, Michael Wilson kicked a beautiful running goal for Port which reduced North Melbourne’s lead to six points. Game on, most at Telstra Dome thought, but most were wrong. Game off. The Kangaroos kicked the next 16 goals. Then many thought Port’s challenge was no longer overcoming its final hoodoo but to stay in the eight. After Round Nine, we were wrong again. It’s current challenge, as it improves its stocks, is to be the one team this year to beat St Kilda on July 4 at York Park. Will Brisbane fold? How far Melbourne and Fremantle?
Adelaide has been flat since the first session of summer training. This is the year Adelaide will try to forget. Nothing has worked for two weeks in a row and nothing will. Season over, KG. Ayres will be given Haigh’s chocolates and warm references. Hawthorn should snap him up now for 2005. Could Andrew Jarman construct a three-year plan for Adelaide?

SA has two teams and, you’d thinka reason not to cringe. But, the AFLis a stage, a hinge, a distant bell that makes our youthful heroes shrink.