State of Origin: yet another thing that I don’t care about but apparently should

The State of Origin, according to many people, is the most important event in human history EVER (despite the fact that it happens every year). Citizens who accuse religious types of being zealous moronic imbeciles will, at this time of year, be reduced a tiny trembling mass of tears depending on the outcome of a sporting event with a duration roughly equivalent to the last Harry Potter film.

I have seen the future, and here is how the whole event played out (*spoiler warning*:)

Two teams of large men with rather appalling records of sexual harassment and/or violence competed over a piece of leather roughly the size of a watermelon on a flat piece of grass. At the conclusion of the designated time period, one team was judged to have been better at moving the watermelon thing and was crowned the victor.

This resulted in the winning team's supporters being exultant, and the losing team's supporters becoming inconsolably depressed, in spite of the fact that an identical sporting event will occur next year. And the one after that. And the one after that. And the one after that.

Cultural sidenote: in Australian tradition, denying a fervent devotion to a particular sporting team can often lead to the denier in question being labelled a 'poof,' which is a derogatory term for a homosexual man. The ironic fact that the sport in question features sweating muscly men in tiny shorts putting their hands all over each other appears to elude users of this particular vilification.

Here is a dramatic re-enactment of me at every sporting event, ever: