Grand Final in Helsinki

The weekend just passed Sirli and I ventures across the gulf to Helsinki, to visit my Brother James. Sirli had bought the ferry tickets for me as a birthday present back in July, and arriving on AFL Grand Final weekend was just a coincidence. Sirli has no real idea about Aussie Rules, although she did beat the entire Meek family in this years footy tipping! Accident or not, this years grand final was a Helsinki affair for the Meek Brothers,

We awoke just after 6:00, and braved the early morning Finnish autumn weather to stroll down to Molly Malones. What it lacks in originality of name, this venue certainly makes up for in cosy atmosphere, a good range of beers and a preparedness to open the bar two hours ahead of schedule for a sport they’ve not got the faintest clue about! James had arranged for the Helsinki AFL team to meet there, so a random assortment of Finns and expat Aussies tumbled, sleepy eyed, into the bar to enjoy that One Day in September.

Now I’m not the biggest of booze hounds, but a special occasion is a special occasion and I was preparing myself for an early morning grand final pint or two. I had a few quiet beers last year in Tallinn and it didn’t do me any harm, so I figured I might as well keep the tradition alive. However, I had forgotten one thing… We were in Finland!

They say that when you’re in Helsinki, unless you see a sign expressly permitting you do something, it’s best to assume that it’s prohibited. No sign about sitting on the grass? Then you can’t sit there. Nothing about whether you can smoke or not? Then you can’t! Finns are nothing if not sticklers for the rules, conformity and order. The pub wasn’t allowed to sell beer before 9:00, and so they didn’t. I was going to try and talk them around, after all it was grand final day, but then again it was also Hansie Cronje’s Birthday, and I think the bar staff cared about both facts equally. So the game kicked off with 30 assorted characters drinking coffees, huddled around the TV in the front of the bar. Most of the crowd seemed to be with the Geelong, and despite being a Tigers fan, I had donned a Cats jumper for the day. There were few relaxed faces in the bar all day!

When normal bar service resumed at 9:00, James insisted that I buy him a pint. He said despite the early hour, a close grand final was too much to endure sober. As the bar opened a few locals walked in, and were most bemused to find their normally quiet, cosy little Irish bar filled with strangers in funny striped jumpers, yelling at some bizarre game on the TV. What they made of the situation I’ve no idea, but they tended to slink to the back of the pub, away from the barracking and shouting.

In the end the result was not what we were hoping for. Riding on the Bandwagon, I simply jumped off just as quickly as I had jumped on. James took respite in the fact that this was Helsinki. There would be no endless news reports to watch. No Hawks fans screaming for weeks. No cars with brown and yellow scarves. If your team is going to lose a grand final, there’s no better place to be than oddly ordered world of Finland. Not that that’s a concern for me. I’m a tigers fan. We finished 9th. Again!