Let's get the necessary courtesies out of the way and say right from the outset: of course, it's all about the frocks.

The 2014 Brownlow Medal (Channel Seven, 7.30pm) is an award for footballers and, as such, may be expected to have a few points of difference compared with your common or garden Logies/Emmys/Nickelodeon Kids' Choice affair. Where there will be no point of difference, though, is in the matter of it being all about the frocks. A slew of shiny-eyed personalities hovering in the indeterminate space between "journalist" and "dental catalogue model" will be pleading with us to believe the Brownlow is all about the frocks.

And so, before the event, we will have "the red carpet", an unavoidable part of the modern awards ceremony, wherein the women of Australia will be reassured that, although they may not command centre stage of the country's sporting theatre, they have an important role to play if they can pour themselves neatly into a pricey bit of cloth. The slightly sinister question "Who are you wearing?" will be asked, and next to the pretty young things themselves will be their burly beaus, hopping from foot to foot awkwardly, impatient to get away from the fashion parade and start doing some serious imbibing, or smiling smugly from their partners to the camera as if to say: "Yep. All mine."

And come the morning after, the papers will declare who, of the be-frocked, shall be declared "winners" and who shall be declared "losers", based on mystifying criteria drawn annually from a fortune cookie.

Meanwhile, at some point during the evening, the best footballer of the year will be named.

Technically, the Brownlow is for "fairest and best", which will cause a lot of angst if Fremantle's Nat Fyfe tops the vote, as he's ineligible due to being suspended during the season. Which seems a bit harsh given Tony Lockett once won a Brownlow, despite being about as "fair" as Ronnie Kray. Still, those are the rules, and no Brownlow for Fyfe in 2014. Instead it may go to Dyson Heppell, or Josh Kennedy, or even injured Gary Ablett.

Lance Franklin's been tipped by some, but that requires the reversal of a long-standing hatred of big forwards by the umpires. But even if Buddy (pictured) gets snubbed, he can take solace in the fact his girlfriend's frock is bound to be ace.

Speaking of ace, check out Brooklyn Nine-Nine (SBS1, 10pm) if you haven't already, a cop show that is more a warm-hearted workplace sitcom. Andy Samberg gets top billing but it's a true ensemble effort, and Andre Braugher as the deadpan Captain Holt is particularly marvellous. On Monday, Samberg's Peralta is made responsible for Holt's security, a source of glee for the former and exasperation for the latter.