A lot of men love footy. It’s an emotion we embrace early. Often the club becomes part of us before our memories are fully developed. Some of us can’t remember the moment we started following our club. Our club was just there.
We became brainwashed by friends or family. Others chose different paths to find their team, but our club was always there. When we reflect on those formative years, football makes up a lot of memories.
As kids we played football at school or for local clubs, often on freezing Sunday afternoons in Melbourne. Grounds were uneven and hard in dry conditions, muddy and sodden in the wet. Footy, as we learned early, is a tough, unforgiving game. A lot of kids realised quickly that they weren’t suited. They couldn’t get the ball or didn’t want it. Skills and fitness were poor.
There was no point playing. That didn’t mean those kids stopped supporting their club. You don’t need to play to love.
Other kids continued playing as they got older, reaching senior football, which is tougher, harder and meaner than junior football. To play senior football was to get hit, hurt and humiliated. Occasionally things went right, and there were goals, marks and possessions.
It took courage to cross the white line. The team and jumper were everything. Winning was great. Winning premierships was amazing.
Then our careers faded. We got injured. We got older, middle-aged, and slower. We got families. Talking footy with mates took the place of playing, which is great because men love talking footy. Mates who talk regularly always have football as the first and most important topic. Anything else is peripheral.
With middle age comes wisdom. The conversation about footy is fascinating. Men often become prophets. We watch and listen to the games. We watch shows like AFL Game Day and Footy Classifieds. We know footy. We might be a club member or own a pay TV subscription.
All of us still love our club, no matter success or failure. The club has always been there. It shall be obeyed.
We are immersed in footy, and given our age, most of us don’t play competitively anymore. That’s no slight, we’re too old to get injured. What’s worse, most of us don’t even have a kick anymore. I don’t own a Sherrin, which aggravates me every time I hold one in a sport store.
The last time I kicked a Sherrin was May 2009. It belongs to Adam G, and it’s probably the last time he kicked it too.
Just because we’re forty doesn’t mean our legs don’t work. It doesn’t mean we can’t remember how to kick. We just don’t do it.
As you’re reading this, you’re remembering how it feels to kick a Sherrin to your mate and he doesn’t have to move. It’s exciting lining up for goal forty out, with your pride on the line and your mates as witnesses. It feels awesome to jump and clutch the Sherrin from the air above.
When you do something good your mates clap and swear. So why don’t we do it more?
We can all still run despite being 40-odd. We can still summon enough energy and enthusiasm to mow lawns, walk the dog, dig in the garden or ride to work. We’re fit enough to enjoy an hour in free space with a Sherrin.
So let’s do it. This weekend I’m going for a kick at a local school with mates.
Another mate of mine is hoping to organise a kick in the park with a few mates too. Paul Turner, the architect of the Social Football League, wants to get the old crew back for one more game.
Real football, real jumpers, real grounds…
Sounds exciting, right? It is, but don’t let the negativity kill that excitement. Every time I drive past a football ground I endure the same thoughts. This is how it goes:
As the ground approaches, I figure I should make a comeback, maybe play a few games in the reserves. I’m fit enough, and probably good enough to make up the numbers. Thoughts of the halcyon days when I kicked goals or played well arise. Those thoughts change as I’m adjacent to the ground. I remember getting kicked and punched, elbowed, head-butted and punched in the dick. I remember the quiet games, missing crucial goals or dropping easy marks. When I’m past the football ground, I keep driving, knowing a comeback to senior football would not be romantic. I wouldn’t kick ten goals in the grand final and couldn’t keep pace with the 20 year olds. The further behind the ground gets, the less I think about it.
Most of you probably go through the same thought process when you drive by a ground. That’s natural, but this story isn’t about competitive football. This is about the SFL and having a kick.
I know what you’re thinking, and footy is a hard game. It isn’t for the ill prepared. You’ve got to be mentally right to put on the jumper, and while many of us can remember how that felt, it’s been years since we’ve done it.
That’s no excuse not to do it now.
Want to play a game of SFL football? Want to wear jumpers once worn by Essendon players? Want to have a kick? Age shouldn’t matter. Playing footy is fun, and the SFL can provide that.
I’ve never played an SFL game, but I umpired one and commentated on three. A few years back, Paul organised a game at the Whitten Oval. It was a cold, breezy day. Those who lined up played on the same ground Ted Whitten did. In the seventies, some of us went to the Western Oval, as it was known back then.
Paul worked like a mogul to organise the use of the Whitten Oval. It was a grand achievement. Russ and I called the game. Do you think we took it seriously? Watch the DVD to find out. Russ, it must be said, has a great voice for football.
Paul had professional photographers take photos. The game was filmed and processed into DVDs. This wasn’t narcissism. This was a man organising things properly. Those men who played at the Whitten Oval can watch themselves play football.
Paul will work like a mogul to find another ground. The SFL gives middle-aged men the chance to play football on real grounds. It’s a lot of fun. So play football.
It doesn’t matter how old you are or the last time you had a kick. It doesn’t matter what your skills are like. The games are played in great spirit. There’s no time on. No one is going to perform a sling tackle.
If you tear a hamstring you deserve it for showing off.
In the coming days, Paul will contact you all with the chance at former glory. Footy gives us so much pleasure. You can’t deny yourself pleasure.
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Anne (6) |
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Russ (6), Matt (6) |
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James F (6), Sandra (7), Wayne (7) |
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Dave (7), Matt B (6) |
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George (6) |
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The Pole (7), Stevo (6) |
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Andy (8) |
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Dallas (6) |
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Eric (6), Paul (6), James (6), Adam L (6) |
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Donna (6) |
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Jim (5) |
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Nemo (3) |
You lost me here –
” Want to wear jumpers once worn by Essendon players?”
Who the hell would wanna do that?
Sure, use it when you’ve run out of shitta paper.
But thats about it.
