Unless of course, you go to the Melbourne 'Boxing Day' test match. In my hometown one traditionally takes leftover pudding and a hangover to the MCG, where one hopes at least one session will be played.

There's a wonderful and evocative, if melancholy song penned by a medic turned musician I know:
"Gutters washed out in the wet grass.
Boxing Day, the rain top-scores again.
Balls of screwed up wrapping paper, broken toys, unconscious relatives
And rain...
Somewhere it's still yesterday, somewhere it's a winter's afternoon."

*gets misty-eyed*