I'd been trying to get to Monster Jam for about five years.
Every time it came around, something seemed to get in the way. Usually work, often an audit. This year I committed months ahead, made sure the audits were out of the way, and finally found myself at Accor Stadium on a Saturday afternoon, looking at ten enormous trucks.
I wasn't entirely sure whether I was going to watch a sport or a show.
The afternoon started with the Pit Party, an opportunity to get close to the trucks, meet the drivers and see some of the machinery that would be performing later that evening.
It sounded better than it turned out to be.
There were long queues, mostly families waiting for photographs with the trucks and drivers. Grave Digger was particularly popular, with queues running along both sides. Fortunately, I wasn't interested in having my photograph taken. Away from the organised queues, there was enough room to get reasonably close, look underneath the trucks and take a few photographs of my own.
That was interesting, but it didn't take very long.
For families with children wanting photographs and autographs, I could see the appeal. For me, it was an expensive way to spend a couple of hours.
A couple of hours I could have spent at the cricket.
By the time I'd had enough, I was more than ready to get inside the stadium.
I arrived at my seat about an hour before the show. The stadium floor had been transformed, with enormous quantities of dirt shaped into ramps, jumps and obstacles. The large screens were already busy with driver introductions, interviews, replays, documentaries and advertising. There was plenty to watch before anything actually happened on the stadium floor.
The disadvantage was the sun.
My seat was exposed to the afternoon sun, which was particularly brutal while I waited for the show to begin. I was very glad when it finally dropped behind the opposite side of the stadium.
The presentation was unmistakably American.
That wasn't surprising in itself, but I hadn't expected so little to be adapted for Australia. Weights, speeds, references to American holidays, advertising and sponsors all retained their American character. Some of it had little obvious relevance to an audience sitting in Sydney.
The announcers repeatedly reminded us that the event was being livestreamed, and the entire show was available on YouTube afterwards. Sitting in Accor Stadium, it was easy to forget that the presentation was also reaching people well beyond Sydney.
There were families everywhere, often with two, three or four young children. Plenty were already wearing Monster Jam shirts or carrying small versions of the trucks they were waiting to see. The merchandise was different from most sporting events I attend. Rather than predominantly clothing, it was toys: model trucks, plush toys, remote-controlled vehicles and enormous novelty cups filled with frozen drinks.
I'd expected something close to a sellout, but Accor Stadium had large empty areas in the upper levels. The first several rows around the stadium were also left empty for safety. Even so, there was a substantial crowd, and it knew how to make noise.
Then the trucks came out.
All ten entered the stadium together, and whatever uncertainty I had about the evening disappeared beneath the sound.
They were unbelievably loud.
I've attended plenty of motorsport over the years, and this was up there with the loudest I've experienced. When all ten trucks were running together, the noise wasn't simply something you heard. You could feel it.
Television had prepared me reasonably well for the size of the trucks and the height of their jumps. It hadn't prepared me for the sound, the smell or the sight of them moving around the stadium. At different times there was smoke, glowing brakes, damaged tyres and the smell of hot machinery.
The show moved through racing, skills and freestyle competitions. There were races against another truck, attempts at particular tricks, and eventually timed freestyle runs where the drivers could put together whatever jumps and manoeuvres they thought would score best.
The presentation was theatrical, but the driving was not something I could dismiss as simply entertainment.
These enormous machines required remarkable control. The drivers were constantly judging speed, distance and throttle, sometimes while balancing on two wheels or preparing to land after a jump. Not every attempt worked.
What surprised me was how much time was spent recovering trucks when something went wrong.
Some ended up on their sides or roofs. Others needed to be pushed or towed away. Each recovery brought a collection of support vehicles and crew members onto the stadium floor, with the competition stopping while the damaged truck was dealt with.
It took time, sometimes quite a lot of it, but the efficiency was impressive. The crews moved with an obvious familiarity, positioning vehicles, righting trucks and clearing the arena in an organised sequence.
I found it almost as interesting as the competition.
With multi-tonne vehicles, fuel and damaged machinery involved, the careful approach made sense. Between appearances, mechanics were also working to repair trucks and get them back into action. Several needed attention during the evening, including Grave Digger, which went on to win the event.
The drivers were the focus of the show, but there was a considerable operation keeping it moving.
Meanwhile, the audience seemed to know considerably more about Monster Jam than I did.
Every time a truck drove past, even when it was simply moving into position or returning to park, people waved. At first I didn't think much of it. It took me a while to realise the drivers were waving back.
Each truck also had its own following, and some had rituals that large sections of the crowd joined in with. Zombie brought out waving arms, El Toro Loco had its bull-horn hand signals, and Monster Mutt Dalmatian was accompanied by Who Let the Dogs Out?
I had no idea about any of this when I arrived.
Zombie appeared particularly popular. Grave Digger was interesting for a different reason. Despite being one of the biggest names, judging by the queues at the Pit Party, it attracted a mixture of cheering and booing.
Not a great deal of booing, but enough to notice.
I didn't know whether that was a reaction to its success, reputation or something else. It was simply unexpected, particularly when most of the other trucks received such enthusiastic support.
Sparkle Smash was another favourite, especially among the younger girls around me. Its truck had been damaged in the first round of racing, but it returned to compete. When it launched into a jump and released a burst of sparkling confetti, the crowd loved it.
It was ridiculous, colourful and rather good fun.
At half-time, four motorcycles came out to perform jumps of their own. After spending so long watching enormous trucks, they were a welcome change. The motorcycles moved differently, and the break from the main competition was useful without leaving everyone sitting around waiting.
By the time freestyle arrived, I had become accustomed to watching two things at once: the performances and the work needed to keep them happening.
The evening was taking longer than I'd expected, but it didn't feel particularly long.
I'd thought the show would finish around eight. By the time I left, it was about quarter to nine, and I'd even spent some time hanging around afterwards.
The Pit Party was something I wouldn't pay for again, but the main event was quite different. I'd enjoyed it far more than I'd expected, and I'd probably come back.
Although next time, I might bring earplugs.
