Television is a world of knowledge - a vast library of discovery that awaits us all, given the right set-top box - and this column wouldn't be doing its duty if it didn't occasionally reach up to some of the less well-visited shelves in search of enlightenment and an expansion of horizons. It was in this spirit that we once watched an entire afternoon of yacht racing on Sky Sports 3. And it was in this spirit that we found ourselves, the other evening, tuning in to Eurosport 2 for the Australian Rules football Hall of Fame Tribute match.

This, we should be clear, was our first visit to football served Australian-style. Come to think of it, it was our first visit to Eurosport 2, which is like Eurosport, only more so. If there's a place in your heart for German stunt-bike riding and action from the Finnish lacrosse leagues, and if you maintain a keen interest in keeping the old, can-do spirit of ITV's World of Sport thrillingly alive, a happy welcome awaits you on Eurosport 2.

The channel is rejoicing in a branding initiative, under which it periodically announces itself as “the new generation sports channel”. Now and again, in the breaks, we are offered a stunning celebratory montage of scenes a new generation sports channel apparently delivers best - motorcycles spinning through the air, Danish strongmen straining dangerously under unhelpful numbers of beer kegs, people falling off snowboards and, shortly thereafter, mountains - and the tone is not a little defensive.

“You may arch an eyebrow at this stuff,” this promotional package seems to be saying, “but did you see how close that Danish strongman came to bursting? That's sport, my friend.” They'll get no argument with that proposition here. Let's also note that the allegedly obscure Eurosport channels will be showing every kick of the Euro 2008 football tournament this summer. True, some UK viewers will argue that, in the absence of the home nations, the competition may as well be hovercraft racing for all the local interest it's going to generate, but we are not among them. On the contrary, bring it on.

And bring on Aussie Rules football, too. What a game. Assuming it is a game, of course, rather than, say, an official police procedure or a pitched and genuine battle between rival villages. With Victoria v Dream Team, the novice viewer - in the living room, yet, at the same time, inevitably staring across a cultural chasm thousands of miles wide - struggled for definitions at the most basic level.

Those pitch markings, for instance. Where to begin with those? Featuring circles, hemispheres, rectangles and curves running from one side to the other, the playing area seems to have been designed while trying out every item in a geometry set. And four posts at each end? Of different sizes? Now you're just confusing everyone.

This is before we even come on to the rules about what you can and can't do with the ball (which is oval-shaped - something familiar to cling to, at least). Under the category “things you can do with it”, file everything. Under the category “things you can't do with it”, file nothing. The ball may, apparently, be kicked, caught, run with, punched, slapped, bounce-dribbled and probably even beamed up, Star Trek-style.

That said, I didn't see anyone carry it in their teeth, although I can't imagine people would have objected. Everything else seemed perfectly permissible, by no means easing the confusion. We just had to hold firm while the host commentators said things such as: “Richardson just punts it long - why wouldn't you?” Why wouldn't you, indeed.

What we could have done with, clearly, was a pre-match briefing from someone patient with a whiteboard - someone who could have illuminated the niceties of “ruck work”, “disposals” and “trademark through-the-corridor play”, while also explaining why the referee's whistle rarely had any noticeable effect in stopping the game and why tight shorts and sleeveless tops are still considered a viable look in Australia long after Wham! split up.

But, of course, Eurosport 2's busy schedule meant that there was no time for any studio-based preamble. Instead, we were tossed straight into the action without so much as a “G'day”. This is either a flattering assumption of expertise or the cheapest possible broadcasting, depending how you view it.

Yet even in the depths of one's ignorance, the game's energy began to penetrate: the extreme speed, the flow and the casual danger - the sense that at any moment every player is at risk of breaking anything and everything. In any case, the language of sport is, at least to some extent, universal. A banner among the Victoria supporters read, “Stick it right up 'em”. Victoria did, 137-120.