Contrasting ideals: Snoop Dogg is a brand name globally; Mike Brady is an icon parochially. Photos: GETTY IMAGES

And some of us thought the cultural cringe was dead. We thought we could, as a country of artists and entertainers, hold our place with the rest of the world.

And then along comes the AFL, and more particularly the grand final entertainment.

Could the cringe be shown any more clearer than in the AFL casting its eyes from our shores to the entertainment nirvana that is anywhere but here, hoping for world acceptance of its premier event than flying in an American entertainer.

Introducing rapper Snoop Dogg. It’s not his fault, of course. He was asked. He accepted. You can see the AFL’s commercial logic at play here. Last year, Snoop Dogg was everywhere at the Paris Olympics: he was one of the final torchbearers for the Olympic flame during the opening ceremony, a correspondent for NBC, a fan in the stands for the US, and as a mascot for Team USA. If ever the AFL wanted an entree into America, the Dogg would be seen as the carrier. He has sold tens of millions of albums. He has become a brand name globally.

It still doesn’t make it the right choice. The rapper’s past is, to say the least, chequered. How his music will make a connection with the audience inside the MCG and watching around Australia is a mystery. Will Americans tune into to see him? Who knows? Worth a shot I suppose, and maybe the Americans might even remember what the event at which he is performing.

PLEASE HELP US CONTINUE TO THRIVE BY BECOMING AN OFFICIAL FOOTYOLOGY PATRON. JUST CLICK THIS LINK.

It’s just that it all seems rather odd that a uniquely Australian sport, none more so, than Australian Rules should not celebrate Australian artists on the last day of the season, the biggest stage of the season, before the biggest crowd. Surely that would be affirmation of the game and our cultural heritage. The importation of overseas acts has been both a success and dismal failure. Who can forget The Killers (for the right reasons)? Who can forget Meatloaf (for the wrong reasons)?

It’s true Australian artists have graced the ground at the grand final. The renditions of Waltzing Matilda could make you swell with pride, bemusement and befuddlement – Peter Allen, Jon English, Glenn Shorrock, Slim Dusty, Olivia Newton-John, Daryl Somers and Human Nature, for instance (Best not to mention the one with the kangaroo).

Given the increasing trend, nay necessity, to make every event more spectacular than the last, to give every minute a glittering gravitas beyond its purpose, to take audiences soaring on the wings of an extravagance that costs more than the GDP of a small African nation, the AFL is only following in the steps of other sporting spectacles, such as the American Super Bowl. At the most recent Super Bowl, companies paid about $10 million for a 30-second slot. That’s $333,333 for every second. It may be supply and demand. It may be market forces at work. It may even bring returns worth the expenditure. But really, you can’t help thinking of Bob Dylan’s line from It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding): money doesn’t talk, it swears.

If the AFL is aspiring to this level, then all is lost. It doesn’t need to conquer America or the world. Indeed, it’s having a spot of bother conquering Tasmania.

It’s a Ludditte thing to say, and to wish for, but perhaps we should leave it to Mike Brady performing Up There Cazaly. What more needs to be sung? Then on with the game.