Goal!

If you live in Melbourne, there is a general assumption that you will be footy-mad. That is, a devout fan and follower of Australian Rules Football. If you don't like it, you have to lump it, because the rest of Melbourne and especially the local media assume you do and therefore treat all things footy-related as if they were of national or international importance.

Jeez, it gives us the shits.

See, Fixit and I couldn't care less about AFL. Bizarrely, Fixit comes from a family of ardent AFL fans. But at a young age his family moved interstate to NSW where the football choices were less likely to include Aussie rules. So he learned to play soccer instead, and despite coming back to Victoria after 4 years, he never developed a proper Victorian passion for aerial ping-pong. And sure, I was a mad keen Carlton supporter at high school but this was mostly because I was best friends with Elizabeth Amos, and she was a very persuasive and charismatic girl. Of course, I then indoctrinated my sister with a passion for The Blues. So if Carlton featured on tv's match of the day we two would sit and watch it on the beanbag with my Dad - which I think he really enjoyed, looking back. I even think I cried when Carlton lost a Grand Final. But then I stopped being friends with Elizabeth Amos and went on to be a drama student and before you knew it I had an English boyfriend and suddenly the 'round ball' game was the sport to follow (you see how easily led I am?) . I even played in some women's teams over the years.

The upshot of this is that Climber is at a bit of a disadvantage in his Melbourne schoolyard, where AFL is king, swap cards are a monotonous feature of Show & Tell, discussions on ladder positions rife and team jumpers worn with pride.

The poor kid has had to learn fast. He gets no support from us. But somehow he has sorted it all out; hell, the other Grade One Boys are more than happy to tell him all about it. Tellingly he has not committed to a particular team yet, an excellent sign we hope.

In the meantime, I decided to strike a blow for the anti-AFL brigade by sending Climber off to a School Holiday program devoted to soccer.

I wish I could show you the photo of him the night before when he just HAD to try on his new football apparel. He's wearing his pyjama top, his red undies and the new white socks pulled up to his knees and he's shaping a kick. I'll be bringing that photo out at every significant celebratory event for the rest of his life.

He wanted to wear his brand new shin-guards to bed after the first night. If we hadn't been worried about his circulation being cut off, we probably would have let him.

The second day started with a very photogenic fog.

Cherub found it all very exciting but thankfully accepted it as a Big Boy's Activity and was content to join the morning kick around before formal activities began.

The program was fantastic - they rotated each group through various stations where they concentrated on different skills. Below you see Climber lining up for an activity involving passing and shooting for goal. (He missed)

This is a similar one where they had to firstly perform what Fixit calls a Nutmeg. You step over the ball, then send it sideways with your back foot to get round the defender, then you shoot for goal. (I think he missed again)

In the background of this next shot you can just see a kid, airborne and horizontal, learning how to do that very spectacular scissor kick over your own head (before landing on a nice soft crashmat !). I was so impressed that this particular skill was being taught, considering how young the kids are, but then I realised that you'd have to start this one when they were young before they developed FEAR!!

This is one of the inflatable playing fields, seen here with all the kids at the end of the program.

And this is my happy graduate, who told me he wanted to do it every school holiday.

Maybe one day he'll be a Socceroo.