I’m not going to talk about the fact thata 28-year-old man from this club walked away at the peak of his career and we were all led to believe that it was some sort of force incomprehensible to the rest of us – a mystical walkabout,a familial pull that dragged him away from prosperity and success and not deeply entrenched racism.
I’m not going to talk about the fact that the club president,Jeff Kennett,at times carried around a golliwog dressed in the team colours and ‘affectionately’ called it Buddy after Lance Franklin.
I’m not even going to talk about the fact that just a couple of months ago out ofAdelaide there were accusations of some Denzel WashingtonTraining Day-style camp complete with men dressed in paramilitary gear armed with fake guns.
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What I’m concerned about,like many others,is that this is not a once-off occurrence. That this is the beginning of an incredibly difficult conversation about how we treat these men behind closed doors before we expect them to go out and perform for us on the field,win us flags,sponsors and members. I’m terrified that this game I love and speak so proudly about is harbouring something I’d be ashamed of.
In an unenviable position,the AFL’s general manager of inclusion and social policy Tanya Hosch,said it best:“I think the country has a problem.”
Sometimes people are flawed,and they say the wrong thing. I get that – I’ve done it before and will probably do it again. Sometimes people do the wrong thing in a moment of weakness or indulgence. I get that too. What these allegations raise,though,is racism of a different kind. What this sort of racism does is tell one group of people that they are better than another with a set of rules and obligations that only need to be met and fulfilled by black people.