Tonight saw the last of my five games at the Canberra Stadium. Iraq versus Palestine. Now there is a contest I would never have imagined previously I'd be watching. But there we were, Spike and I plus somewhere in the region of 8,000 to 10,000 enthusiastic (not to say fanatical) supporters, mostly Iraqui nationals. The man with the big drum was but one of many drummers who were unceasing in their desire to make themselves heard. They succeeded. The game was enjoyable but the result was never in doubt. How could it have been? This is Palestine's first official tournament. Five members of the squad were prevented from travelling because of visa restrictions. The team gave their all but a victory was always going to be beyond their capabilities ... this time. Their supporters didn't seem to mind too much. They cheered on their team with the same passion as any bunch of avid fans but by half time it was pretty clear the night belonged to Iraq. Unpeturbed, the Palestine supporters - some expatriots plus a bunch of Aussie supporters politically of the emergent nation settled for a flag-waving, drum-beating procession around the stadium. Everyone in the ground seemed pleased they were there. Sometimes that's enough; a victory in its own right.
The evening was marred a little by an argument I got into with an Iraqi supporter who refused to vacate the seat next to the wheelchair spot I was occupying. He and his mates had been standing up, crowding the space as their team took the field, which is when Spike and I arrived. Most of the guys moved so I could take the wheelchair spot. One guy sat down next to me. I asked him to move so Spike could join me. He declined, telling me he was recovering from a broken ankle. The ding dong commenced. He refused my request to prove the seat was his by showing me his ticket. He refused the same request from stewards and armed police officers. Our ding dong continued. In the end his mates persuaded him the fight was not worth the prize. They moved away but not too far away. They stood througout the match, jumping for joy when Iraq scored, as you would if you were an Iraqi. Broken ankle entirely healed it would seem.
