Friendly and fun ribbing part of game
A little irreverence goes a long way on the sports field, writes
With $20,000 fines being dished out in AFL games for verbal abuse one has to ask: “What is going on?”
Let me say from the outset that racial slurs have no place in any sport and they are rightly condemned, in fact harshly condemned.
But ruling out ribbing in jest – frequently with a humorist twist – is governance gone mad.
Apparently footballers are now so precious that any hint of something that may bruise delicate egos must be punished.
It’s an irony that footballers physically must be tough as nails, yet God help you if you say boo.
In my late 20s I started farming in Victoria’s Goulburn Valley. I hadn’t played footy for four years.
The best way to gain friendships in the bush is to join a sporting club. So I joined the Murchison Football Club thinking just going to training would be enough.
At the conclusion of my first training run all the players went to the local pub for a couple of beers and to hear who was to be selected in the two teams. To my amazement my name was called out to play forward pocket in the firsts.
Come Saturday Murchison was to play Tatura at home.
I ran out with the boys and did a couple of laps and then took up my position in the forward pocket. I then noticed a huge gorilla-like player walking down to the backline. I thought he must be the fullback. But no! He walked straight up to little me. I said G’day. He said: “You are new around here?” I concurred saying I hadn’t played a game for years. We shook hands and then he said I’m the Tat policeman and if you touch the ball before I do, “Mate I’ll whack you so hard in the crown jewels you won’t root for weeks”. Sobering stuff! But it was just on-field banter.
The ball was bounced and in a flash it came straight towards me and the copper. As we ran to the ball I yelled ‘yours’. The gorilla laughed so much he tripped over the ball. ’Twas a beautiful moment I’m telling you.
I can’t remember who won but a friendship had been won even before we had a few beers after the game.
Murchison went on to make the finals. Six of the players were from the local correction farm, the Dhurringile Prison and were escorted to each game. At halftime in the first final Murchison was a couple of goals down. The playing coach, by far our best player, carried the moniker ‘Allstar’ and was ranting. He was interrupted by one of the correction boys who said: “Boss if you give us bad boys a carton of smokes each you’ll win the game.” When Allstar hesitated I said, “it’s a done deal guaranteed”. Allstar was also known as Whisper because he hated shouting in the pub. Someone had to take the initiative. Murchison won.
I didn’t get any goals but I reckon I should have got a few votes for winning the first final.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is that sport needs to be more than labouringly serious.
It’s not the game that you remember but the characters you played with.
A little irreverence goes a long way. Some of the best one-liners erupt in sporting contests, many unprintable, but they are an integral part of the game.
Play hard but don’t make the game inhuman.
Bill Handbury is an artist and avid football fan living in North Hobart. He was a Victorian farmer and primary industry lobbyist.