When you think of Melbourne you probably think of trams, culture and great restaurants. I think of the time I knocked a tooth out during a late-night skinny dip. I also think of a giant gorilla's hand helping a large woman eat a cream doughnut.
The truth is I have no first-hand knowledge of the place. I know Sydney is just a big Auckland. Perth is just a big Hamilton and Darwin got bombed in the war. I hear Melbourne is its own thing, famed for its artiness, hipness and also bogan-ness, but most of all for its sportiness.
It has a huge and passionate sport-watching public with the venues and history to put the rest of Australasia - if not the world - to shame. The state of Victoria has a population of 5.8 million. They have a million more people to love their AFL than we have to love our rugby.
Why am I banging on about Melbourne, you may wonder? Well, myself and friend Jeremy Wells have been invited on a boys' weekend to the great city. An ultimate mates' weekend. We will spend three days lapping up the sport, food, entertainment and refreshments.
Most importantly, we will be visiting the mighty MCG - a legendary stadium I know only from TV. A cricket mecca arguably second only to Lord's. The place is huge and dripping with history; 159 years old with space for over 100,000 fans.
As a Kiwi growing up, I listened to New Zealand v Australia cricket broadcasts from the MCG as if they were from another planet. Later, on the telly, the massive size of the place really put my hometown ground of Carisbrook in perspective. I don't want to rain on the Brook's memory (some of the best times of my life were spent shivering on those terraces). All I am saying is, as a ball park, Carisbrook isn't even in the ball park of a ball park like the MCG. You could fit five of them in there.
