Chelsea Roffey doesn’t want to be known as a flag bearer for women in the AFL. Unfortunately for Roffey, based purely on gender, that is what she is. At the weekend, she will become the first woman to officiate in a grand final. It is a remarkable achievement and one that deserves the accolades she wants to ignore.
Each time Roffey takes to the field she stands out. She is different, purely because she is a woman. In terms of performance, it matters not her genetics but her ability. She’s a great goal umpire.
Her flirtation with umpiring began in the late nineties when she saw Katrina Pressley umpiring at the Gabba. Pressley was the first female goal umpire employed by the AFL. She was a dedicated, hard working umpire determined to prove she could do the job on ability alone, and that’s how Pressley was selected.
She didn’t last too long, and a couple of blunders saw her dropped from rotation. Still, Roffey was intrigued. She loved AFL and, wanting to be involved, fronted up to umpire training.
I met Roffey in 2003. We share a brief history, a three year stint at Queensland University of Technology while studying journalism. She was a delightful young woman, friendly, enthusiastic and easy going. We talked about footy. I thought it was great that she was a goal umpire with vast ambition.
By 2005, Roffey was already an accomplished QAFL umpire. I never went to one of her games but having umpired the QAFL’s feeder competition, I knew some of the people she trained with. It gave us a neat link.
One afternoon I was in a computer lab at Kelvin Grove. While trying to design a magazine page, Roffey appeared in the hallway outside the lab. She was excited, a huge smile, waving at me.
I left the tutorial to talk to her.
‘I’ve been selected to umpire for the AFL,’ she said. ‘I just had a call from Jeff Gieschen. I go for a uniform fit out later this week.’ She smiled broadly, moving in a delightful way. She was thrilled. I was too.
‘I have to move to Melbourne,’ she said. ‘I wanted to tell you because you love AFL.’
She made her debut in 2006. Since then, I’ve watched her occasionally and admired her ability and success. All my friends and family know I went to uni with her. She has provided repetitive conversation.
Over the years, not one person I know has denigrated Roffey because she is a woman. None of my friends has questioned her ability or suggested tokenistic reasons for her selection. Roffey has been accepted by the widest AFL community – the fans, because she is good at what she does.
During last weekend’s preliminary final in Sydney, Roffey asked for a video review after Collingwood’s Tyson Goldsack kicked a bouncing ball in the goal square. She scampered forward, into the field of play.
‘I think the ball came from below the knee,’ Roffey said to the field umpire. ‘But I’m not sure.’
‘Go back behind the line,’ the umpire said.
‘Okay.’ Roffey ran backwards a few meters behind the goal line and waited, arms by her sides while the boundary umpires were consulted. Moments later Roffey moved six inches sideways with gentle grace onto the line that marks the middle of the goals.
The video review confirmed her fears. Goldsack had kneed the ball through the goals. Roffey was right to call for a review and Collingwood was correctly awarded a point.
In the final quarter, Roffey was on the spot when the Swans kicked for goal. Collingwood’s Chris Tarrant got a finger to the ball. Roffey paid touched, but two replays suggested the call was marginal. On one angle, the ball looked frightfully close to being over the line before it was touched.
Roffey didn’t call for a review.
I was horrified. ‘Oh Chelsea,’ I said. ‘You’re not going to get the grand final now.’ I rewound and watched the vision again. It was a marginal call and made no difference to the outcome, and though she was right there when the ball crossed the line, I initially thought a review might’ve been better.
Watching the slow motion replay, the vision was inconclusive. I sighed through gritted teeth. I haven’t seen Chelsea since 2005. In the past seven years I think we’ve shared one or two emails and a couple of text messages. I’ve hardly made an effort to stay in touch, but that was how it was when we were at uni.
My angst on Friday night was because I wanted her to get selected for the grand final. It would be grand reward for more than a decade of dedication and training. I hoped Jeff Gieschen wouldn’t rule her out because of a marginal decision, especially when the vision was touch and go.
The next morning I relayed my fears to Kristine. ‘I think Chelsea made a mistake,’ I said. ‘She should’ve referred a touched decision and she’s not going to get the grand final.’ I gave Kristine a brief explanation and she shook her head, doing a great job of pretending to be as disappointed as I was.
On Sunday, when AFL Game Day highlighted the incident, I went to pour a coffee. I did not want to watch it again.
The appointment
On Tuesday, Roffey sat in front of the media. She’d been selected for the grand final. Despite the fact she is another umpire with a job to do, her appointment is a pivotal moment in AFL football. It is historic. It has never happened before. She doesn’t want her achievement to be defined in gender bias and it shouldn’t be.
Journalists wanted to know about the touched decision she didn’t refer. The questions were asked, not because she is a woman or because she was the officiating umpire when the ball crossed the line.
The real question wasn’t asked. It was inferred. The simple question was this: if the decision not to refer was wrong, why was she appointed?
‘I was satisfied with the decision,’ Roffey said. ‘I was in line with the padding of the post looking exactly where I needed to, to make the call. I had two boundary umpires on their post looking at it as well who supported the decision.’
Most AFL aficionados had seen the vision. It was tight. Roffey didn’t care. She had no doubts about it.
‘Even following all the scrutiny that’s happened and speculation around it,’ she said. ‘We’ve since scrutinised all of the camera angles, not just two of them and we’ve found the right camera angles to look at the decision and I’ve got no problem.’
On the AFL’s website, a video segment titled it’s your call analysed the decision. Red lines were applied to the vision. When Tarrant touched the ball, Roffey was in perfect position. The boundary umpires were beside the behind posts. The vision remained inconclusive, but with the red line, it looked like Roffey made the right decision.
‘I’m completely satisfied with it,’ Roffey said.
Gieschen was certain Roffey made the right decision. ‘She’s in great position,’ he said. ‘We’ve got no reason to doubt her.’
Watching the vision with the red line pleased me. Gieschen seemed pleased, too.
‘She was so confident and so clear on the day and didn’t even think about coming up for a score review,’ he said. ‘When you look at that vision you can see it is inconclusive so we back her one hundred percent regarding that situation.’
That is an umpiring boss with confidence in his team.
For Roffey, her selection is vindication for all the hours spent training and learning. For seven years she has strived to improve enough, just like any footballer, to get selected for a grand final.
‘I’ve been dreaming about this day for a long, long time,’ Roffey said.
Gieschen had called to say she was in, just as he did way back in 2005, when Roffey was a 23-year old uni student.
‘I was pretty much speechless,’ she said. ‘I think Jeff said congratulations and I teared up and had a bit of a cry. So that’s a bit girly, isn’t it?’
No one would begrudge her a few tears. It’s not girly. Men cry too about football.
‘So much work goes into umpiring,’ Roffey said. ‘To have the opportunity to go out and do a grand final is something that I’ve worked so hard for. There usually is a bit of attention around the fact that I’m female but I just want to get out there and do the job.’
Do a job, as anyone would do, not because they’re a woman. Roffey doesn’t want gender involved, but she couldn’t help but mention it. No one can help but mention it. She is the only female umpire employed by the AFL. That makes her a standout, not matter what video review you refer to.
Brett Rosebury, who umpires his fifth consecutive grand final, is the senior field umpire. Matt Stevic and Simon Meredith will officiate in their first grand finals, just like Roffey.
Getting selected for a grand final is tough, something to work hard for. Stevic and Meredith have toiled away across the country for a lot of years. Stevic has umpired 198 games and Meredith 188, and this is just their first grand final.
Some footballers play more games than Stevic and Meredith and never play in a grand final.
Between them, Rosebury, Stevic and Meredith have umpired more than 650 games and fifty finals. They have pedigree.
On Wednesday, Kristine and I were in the kitchen. She’d seen the paper. ‘You said Chelsea Roffey wouldn’t get the grand final and she did,’ she said and smiled.
I followed her into the bathroom. ‘That was because of what I saw on Friday night,’ I said. ‘Today I watched vision on the AFL’s website and they used a red line. If she referred the decision, it would’ve been sent back to her.’
Kristine nodded, humouring me.
‘I wanted her to get the grand final and I thought Jeff Gieschen would rule her out because she didn’t refer that decision,’ I said. ‘I was disappointed because I thought that was it, she wasn’t going to get it.’
‘Right,’ Kristine said slowly.
‘So she got it right,’ I said. ‘And I’m happy for her.’ I walked out of the bathroom.
I’m more than happy. As my mates suggest, I am an umpire lover, and that is true. I will always defend them.
Their gender is irrelevant. The best get selected to do the job. We must have confidence, just as we do in the footballers who will run out for Hawthorn and Sydney.
good article matt!
