Dummy spits: we’re a nation of sooks

WHEN did Australia become a nation of dummy spitters?

It certainly wasn’t the case when I was growing up; people were open to criticism and accepted it – even if they didn’t like it or agree with it – they accepted it and moved on.

We’re becoming a nation of sooks and I, for one, think that is a shame.

Aussies used to cheer on the battler, celebrate the larrikin and at all times appear to be good sports (even if deep down we’re just like everyone else and not fussed on losing).

It’s not that I’m 100% against dummy spitters.

I was John McEnroe’s number-one fan when he was throwing racquets and abuse on his way to the top of the world tennis tree.

But he spat the dummy with a bit of class and never walked off court because of a bad call or two.

Admittedly, he was kicked off court at the Aussie Open for repeated code violations and he didn’t voluntarily give up.

Nick Kyrgios on the other hand is just a sook.

The guy has so much talent and even Rod Laver reckoned he is the one Aussie who could make to the top of the tennis tree.

I was willing to give him another chance after the Wimbledon debacle, but after this week’s Changai episode I’m re-evaluating my support.

Now, I’m not saying this dummy spitting is a generational thing that started with the Gen Ys, Xs or ABCs.

After all, one of the biggest dummy spits came from one of our own prime ministers.

Remember K. Rudd blubbering on national TV after being stabbed in the back and kicked out of The Lodge? Disgraceful!

What sort of example is that setting the young ones?

Yes, I know one of our toughest Jeff Fenech often used to cry after winning world title bouts.

But hey, he’d just gone 12 rounds of copping hits to the head so he had every reason.

The Marrickville Mauler was no sook.

But it happens every week throughout the footy season when coaches front the media at the after-match press conference and whine about the referees, the touch judges, the canteen ladies... everyone but themselves.

Then there’s our national coaches.

Take Ange Postecoglou who is an elite in a game that has more dummies being flung around than a Myer warehouse.

I’ve always admired Big Ange but he’s become something of a dummy spitter when answering what are legitimate questions from the football scribes.

No-one can say the Socceroos have been playing great football over the past couple of years.

Like the Brisbane Roar, I find watching the Socceroos play the most frustrating 90 minutes of the week.

I’ve developed something of a tic of late in that whenever I see a Socceroos or Brisbane Roar jersey I can’t help but start screaming: “Shoot!... Shoot! .... For Heaven’s sake, SHOOT!”

It’s more than a little embarrassing, particularly when I’m just walking through the Rebel Sports store.

To be honest, I didn’t see the end of the Socceroos v Syria World Cup qualifier on Tuesday night.

After spending about 60 minutes screaming “Shoot! For Heaven’s sake SHOOT!” at the TV, I spat the dummy and went to bed.

See, it’s contagious.