The sham of club football amateurism
Last week Stuff published a story about New Zealand football’s Southern League, raising questions about whether amateur rules are being abused.
Clearly the football community in New Zealand found it interesting and information has come in from many quarters.
Just to recap, outside New Zealand’s only outwardly professional team, the Wellington Phoenix, top men’s football in this country is organised into three leagues – Southern (South Island), Central and Northern – with the teams finishing in the top two or three of each table then playing in a national championship starting in September.
The winning team then qualifies for the Oceania club championships and the winner of that qualifies for Fifa’s lucrative Club World Cup. English powerhouse Chelsea is the current holder, and Real Madrid has the most titles – four.
Despite those heady stakes and the money required to field a team in the three aforementioned leagues, the competition is supposed to be played by amateurs.
The rules say players are either professional or amateur. No inbetween. Amateurs are players who receive no more than the expenses they incur, capped at $150 a week. Prize money is OK as long as it is a one-off resulting from winning a tournament or reaching a certain level.
Players have to sign an agreement with their club, saying they abide by the amateur rules, and the agreement must be lodged with governing body, New Zealand Football (NZF).
Based on my research for last week’s article and the confidential feedback I have received in response, it seems clear to me that adherence to the amateur rules is a joke.
Allegations shared with me would put at least two clubs playing in the top leagues out of the competition straight away for paying players above the permitted reimbursement level.
However, it would be almost unfair to single out those clubs because bending the rules appears so widespread that they would be no more than scapegoats.
Based on what I’ve been told some clubs pay some players, usually $500-$800 a week depending on the player, in various ways. Other clubs create jobs for the players in their club or associated businesses, and pay them handsomely, considering the time and skill involved.
Most clubs, serious about winning, have to attract and keep players by offering perks like free or subsidised accommodation, cars, memberships of clubs, business advantages and lots of other benefits.
Even clubs who pay their players for coaching roles at their clubs and help with accommodation and transport are playing the system. Some clubs are squeaky clean and abide by the rules, but based on what I’ve been told, they’re the ones at the bottom of the leagues.
In my view New Zealand Football is presiding over a farce and is forcing players to take part in a sham with a structure so abused it has become ‘‘New Zealand’s worst-kept secret’’, to quote a source.
The new national league system is only two years old, but the abuse of the rules goes back much further. It seems to me that NZF has turned a blind eye to the whole mess because it’s impractical to do much about it.
But don’t take my word for it. Daniel Donegan was a coach in the Northern League for seven seasons, five of them with Glenfield Rovers (2012-2017).
The team won the league in 2012 and never finished outside the top four.
‘‘We absolutely paid our players,’’ he says. ‘‘Anywhere between $50 a game and $400 a game. We sought private commercial sponsors.’’
He compares his club to another top club, which he says has access to more than $1 million of gaming money each year. The money is paid as coaching salaries.
‘‘The reason the audits always come out clean is because all these clubs have figured out the best way to pay players to play for you is to employ them as coaches and get it paid for by gaming money applications,’’ he says.
Once a club is classed as professional it cannot receive pokie money.
‘‘For the health of the game, I think it’s ok to pay players if clubs can do it sustainably and without the use of gaming money.’’
NZF says it has received no hard evidence of cheating and that it audits six clubs a year. However, these audits are hardly rigorous. They rely on information provided by the clubs’ administrators and it seems unlikely that a club that is stretching the rules would put payments to players through the books.
To be fair, to do a thorough audit, NZF would need powers akin to a police or IRD investigation. It would need to examine a range of bank accounts and lifestyles to do the job properly.
So what’s the big deal? In the broader scheme of things, is there any real harm in the clubs bending the rules and manipulating the system to maintain the pretence of amateurism?
For one thing, it is really unfair on the clubs who do follow the rules. Most of the players are young. What does this system teach them about integrity and honesty? It also means clubs have to have rich benefactors to ensure they can compete.
I don’t want to get holier than thou about all this. If I was a club president or coach, I would also be looking to raise the money to stay competitive. In other words I would accept that I needed to play the game – in more ways than one – so my team wasn’t getting blitzed every time it went out on the pitch.
However, I would much rather have a transparent, honest structure which had clear, simple rules about paying players, backed up by systems to check compliance.
But even this wouldn’t work perfectly. Experience around the world has shown that maintaining competitive sport at a high level in an amateur system will always lead to an abuse of amateurism. But a more transparent system would be a start.
Perhaps the best responses I got to the story came from Simon Chre´tien, 23, who plays for Waterside Karori in the Central League. He works as a public servant.
He grew up in Christchurch and played for Cashmere Technical all the way from the under-8s to making his debut for the first team as a 16-year-old. He later played for Nomads United and Christchurch United during winter breaks from a scholarship in the United States to play college soccer.
At Karori, he isn’t paid, other than in reimbursement of expenses, but believes the debate should focus on bigger questions. There is nothing ‘‘amateur’’ about the national league system, he says.
‘‘I would be curious to know if there are any other amateur leagues around the world which have teams flying around the country to compete in games, have games televised on Sky Sports and have clubs that employ full-time head coaches alongside a whole backroom staff of assistant coaches, goalkeeper coaches and physios.’’
His team, of which he is vicecaptain, is likely to finish mid-table and not make the national championships, but that doesn’t mean the commitment required is anything less than formidable.
‘‘Alongside my job, I am required to train three times a week, with Tuesday sessions running from 8pm to 9.30pm. We play on a weekend, which at times requires travel of up to 4-5 hours on a coach, sometimes staying overnight. This means I could potentially be occupied five out of seven days a week with football.
‘‘There is absolutely nothing amateur about this. Amateur football is training once a week with your mates, going out on the Saturday night with your friends and getting ready to play a game of Sunday league.’’
He says anybody who regards the league as amateur is fooling themselves.
‘‘They have clearly no idea how much time, resources and effort is invested for a national product to be put out on the pitch, or they do, and they choose to ignore this.’’
Clubs willing and able to invest in their players by paying them or helping them financially should ‘‘absolutely be allowed to’’, he says.
‘‘Christchurch United have done a wonderful job in investing in facilities, infrastructure, coaches and players to provide a team ready to compete on the national stage, let alone with Cashmere Technical. How have they done this? With money, simply.
‘‘This is great for the region, because as we all know in Christchurch it has been a onehorse race (he is referring to his old team, Cashmere Technical) for all competitions in football for the best part of 10 years.
Without the investment of Christchurch United, who knows how much longer this could have continued, to the detriment of Canterbury and any form of competitive football?
What everybody in the know seems to agree on is that the charade must end.
An honest system might end in a sort of premier league of New Zealand’s top clubs (something like Super Rugby, based on regional franchises) with openly professional or semi-professional players.
This would allow the regions to support their local teams in the way Canterbury supports the Crusaders, a team of professional players, few of whom come from Canterbury.
Obviously football in New Zealand is a long way from the following commanded by rugby, but a semi-professional league would be a start to keeping youngsters interested, and keeping the football pitch a level playing field.
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