Out of bounce
THE AFL took itself to China this year. We heard about it for months in the lead-up to the actual game. This promotion was all about expanding the opportunities for the game.
Rodney Eade was a most reluctant traveller and then, without even realising that it was actually happening, we were watching Port Adelaide smack the living daylights out of the Gold Coast Suns.
These are two of the newest teams in the competition. They are not the traditional rivals of Collingwood and Carlton. They are the exhibition teams and their boards believe that the best thing for the game is to take the game to the globe.
The match was a disappointment. Not the showcase the AFL had hoped for. This was not so much an introduction as a headon collision and Gold Coast returned to Queensland with more questions than Confucius could answer.
Australian Rules is a unique game. There are corporations in other countries who may be interested in buying advertising or sponsoring television broadcasts, but they’re not going to go out and start their own leagues.
China is not going to be the next base for the next AFL fran- chise. Tasmania would have a heart attack if New Zealand was awarded a licence. We are an island continent and the game reflects our existence, but our indigenous code is at peak popularity in Australia. There will be no off-shore growth. The teams are too cumbersome, the grounds are too big and the umpires are too athletic.
So why is the AFL so hellbent on destroying some of the most integral elements of our unique sport?
The bounce has been the hallmark of the competition for decades.
No other sport begins the ir match with such a physical engagement from their referees.
In basketball there is a “tip off”, in cricket they toss a coin, in soccer one team kicks the ball to itself. These mannered commencements set the template for the way the players behave inside the contest.
In Aussie Rules the umpire holds an odd-shaped ball aloft and then hurls it into the turf. The game is set in motion by a ball bouncing high above the tallest players on the field. The rucks run at each other and leap in order to get the first touch and knock it to their advantage. This is a majestic instruction. This game is alive. The beauty is the unpredictability. The odd-shaped ball can bounce straight into the air, but there is also a chance that the footy can shoot off at an odd angle and throw the game into a chaotic beginning. The rucks are aware of this idiotic angling. They must time their run as best they can but they know there will be no perfect beginning. This is why the game is Australian. The players are not starting with an equa l chance and this gives each team an equal chance. The excitement of the not knowing is one of the reasons we watch until the end.
Recently there has been a safety net installed. The circle outside the circle. If the ball arcs so far that it is deemed unfair then they call it back and throw the ball up.
This was the beginning of the end of ritual.
It’s hard to imagine Dreamtime At the G beginning with a gentle toss. The Grand Final may be played under lights, but does it have to begin with a lofted instruction?
Anybody who has tried to bounce a football knows this is no easy feat. There are plenty of health and safety incident reports that are waiting to be filled in. Black eyes, bad backs, shoulder reconstructions and bruised egos. But these pale in comparison to lifelong injuries that the players inherit. Australian Rules demands physical engagement from players, umpires and spectators alike.
There is no doubt that the bounce is difficult, but surely that is exactly why it should be retained. Losing the bounce is not going to bring more spectators to the game. It is not going to draw admiration from foreign markets. It is one more compromise on the road to irrelevance — the latest crime of homogenisation and the game will be poorer for it in the end.