(incoherent thoughts strung together from a biased and mildly intoxicated noder)
Four young drunken (I detect a theme here) fools once dreamed that they could partake of the legend that is "the state of origin". Sitting, drinking, awaiting the yearly state of origin football match between Queensland and New South Wales. Revered throughout the years and forging the character of young men. Words dropped like piercing shafts of ice from the lips of one young drunken fool "...we could go to Lang Park and be at 'the game'."
Four young fools dared to clutch their dream and pursue it to its final destiny. In frenzed testosterone filled mayhem, the four drunken boys set forth to enter the sacred grounds whereupon the state of origin battle would rage despite the fact that every ticket in the known universe would be sold thrice over and all men within 200 miles of similar drunken disposition would also be thusly enticed to pursue such noble goals.
By horse, carriage, locomotion and fueled vehicle, and after many hours of toil and torment, and beers to the according measure, did the four young fools longingly gaze upon Lang Park swarming with worshippers of like minded spirit. It was then realised that passage was allowed only to those who carried the flimsy paper ticket of meek design. By one great drunken fool this was seen as but a trifle and whereupon the group did seek passage to the holy land by means beyond Gods wisdom and the wisdom of the custodians of Lang Park.
After some travel skirting the perimeters of the sacred land where much cheering and consternation was eminating did the four young fools happen upon a similar group of drunken fools who had gained access to the holy land. Verrily did the blessed drunken fools offer the breaking of bread and a joint communion of souls to commence and the travelling drunken fools were allowed access to the holy land through interlocked hands and lifting action. There they did also evade the piercing glances of the gate keepers and capitalist pig dogs.
And then the four drunken fools to gaze in reverence upon the balding scalp of Wally Lewis as he carved majestically through the defensive monolith of the blue brigade, bringing upon the land God's glow of approval.
God did sigh, with much respect. Queenslander.
The four young drunken fools did eventually return home and now continue the tradition ...