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‘The Cowboys, united in pure rapture, group hugged, hugged individually, held each other close and kissed their partners and kids as they came on the field to celebrate.’
‘The Cowboys, united in pure rapture, group hugged, hugged individually, held each other close and kissed their partners and kids as they came on the field to celebrate.’ Photograph: Dean Lewins/AAP
‘The Cowboys, united in pure rapture, group hugged, hugged individually, held each other close and kissed their partners and kids as they came on the field to celebrate.’ Photograph: Dean Lewins/AAP

Male emotion at grand finals footy is a gorgeous thing

This article is more than 8 years old
Bridie Jabour

When Johnathan Thurston’s field goal claimed the premiership for the Cowboys, men hugged and kissed without a raised eyebrow. Footy gives men a space to really love each other

With another weekend of grand finals behind us, we put to rest Australia’s annual festival of male emotion. It’s a time for blokes to put their feelings on display without raised eyebrows; to touch and celebrate each other with sheer joy.

The North Queensland Cowboys are my team. What I saw from the nosebleed section on Sunday was the most magnificent game of league I will likely ever witness. There’s not much that comes close to being in a sea of 80,000 people screaming with joy. Men openly weeping. Blokes jumping up and down while they embrace. Declarations of platonic love. This is finals footy, baby!

When the Broncos kicked the only goal of the second half to open their lead to four points and it was looking too grim to bear, Cowboys fans were allowed to cry. That was okay, everyone else was too.

When Kyle Feldt put the ball on the line to even the score as the final siren of the game rang out, men who had been friends for 20 years, who’d barely give each other a pat on the back on their birthdays, hugged each other and screamed ecstatically until they were hoarse.

Cowboys player Rory Kostjasyn celebrates with fans. Photograph: Dean Lewins/AAP

When Johnathan Thurston’s conversion attempt pinged off the right goalpost, men squeezed each other sympathetically as they sat with their heads in their hands.

And when the Cowboys claimed the premiership, men got to jump and down in ecstasy, hug each other over and over and over, and weep, and even kiss each other on the head. And they did it again and again. It was probably eight minutes before that roar dulled.

I heard a father say that his adult son had never hugged him so hard in his life.

Of course there were women there (like me) who love the Cowboys just as much as the blokes. I cried and screamed along with them, but there’s something special about male emotion at the footy. Women have made space in our lives to be emotional. We have places to allow the tears to run. We sign off text messages to girlfriends “ILY” (I love you) while men make do with more austere farewells.

For men, the emotion on field gives permission to those in the stands to join in. And the players allowed themselves plenty of self-expression. Seconds after Thurston’s field goal claimed the match tears erupted from the Broncos’ players eyes. The coach held them close in a reassuring embrace. Thurston even hugged many of the opposing side.

Jason Taumalolo of the Cowboys celebrates with fans. Photograph: Cameron Spencer/Getty Images

The Cowboys, united in pure rapture, group hugged, hugged individually, held each other close and kissed their partners and kids as they came on the field to celebrate.

Thurston, accepting his Clive Churchill medal for man of the match, even got to declare how deep his affection runs for his team mates: “I love you like brothers.” When was the last time you heard a bloke tell his mates he loves them?

There are plenty of jokes made about the homoeroticism of football, but understand how cathartic a game can be for fans. A moment to open up and enjoy; to shake off the surly, brooding mood of Australian masculinity and just let the love pour out.

Sometimes other things pour out too, including violence. But what I saw in the stands was pure adulation.

Maybe it’s an opportunity for men to empty themselves of other emotions as well. On Triple J last week Tom Tilley and I joked that a footy grand final could be where Tony Abbott finally allows himself to cry about the past month, with the excuse that he’s really just into the game.

There’s a truth to it. At the football men could be crying for relationships past, screaming with happiness because of how much they love the person next to them, yelling out every frustration they have at work. They can hug their best friend just because the moment says do it, and not a single person passes judgement. That’s grand final football – and it’s a gorgeous thing.

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