A great storm of protest has erupted at the great storm of protest expressed by footy barrackers on an almost non-stop basis at any game of footy. This loud, verbal protesting is directed at the opposition players or at the umpires. Sometimes it even includes booing. Oh, shock, horror!
I am talking about Australian Rules football, of course. Soccer barracker are usually too busy singing or chanting throughout their matches and rugby barrackers and players still call the match referee "Sir."
In Aussie Rules it has recently suggested that booing is not politically correct. Some have even said that even yelling out is socially offensive. What is a barracker to do? So bad has the Anti Barracking Chorus become that last weekend, Melbourne's Marvel Stadium employed an army of officials to patrol the seats on the lookout for any outbreak of excessive barracking. These official wore High Viz vests that had Behavioral Attitude Observer neatly printed on them.
The next day, many footy spectatators said they felt intimidated by these "Observers". In some cases they claimed that they were harrassed by them for indulging in what they felt was perfectly normal anti umpire, anti opponent jeering.
So bad was it, that the ex-Premier of Victoria, and current President of Hawthorn Football Club, Jeff Kennett, spoke out strongly that most of these swarthy observers looked as if they had never been to a footy match and did not understand the "culture", if culture is what footy barracking may be called.
Poor old Jeff was then roundly criticised for Racial Discrimination against people of middle eastern appearance. The President of the AFL said Jeff was way out of line for barracking for the barrackers.
Jeff apologised.
I always enjoyed going to the footy and barracking for my WAFL team, which was, and still is, East Perth, The Mighty Royals. Jousting with opposition barrackers was part of the fun. Below is a modified extract from a memoir I wrote in 2005, entitled "LEON, A backward glance at boyhood".
In my story I wrote in the Third Person and referred to myself as LEON. A boy named NOEL looking backwards. Geddit? In the story below I have written in the First Person. As for my boyhood, this incident occurred at Perth Oval in 1960s when I was in my mid twenties.
Over the years, I enthusiastically barracked for East Perth as
they enjoyed the good times and endured the hard times. Going to the football was
almost a ritual. Apart from the excitement of the game, there was the thrill of
joining in verbal combat with supporters from opposing sides. I always
felt I was doing my bit to help the players on the field by getting the
better of rival supporters off the field.
On one occasion in
the mid 1960s, East Perth
was playing Claremont
and I
was standing close to an attractive lady and her equally attractive
daughter. Or maybe it was her younger sister?In an effort to impress, I began
making what I fondly imagined were very witty comments about the opposing players,
the umpire and various incidents on the field. I was pleased to notice that
the women seemed impressed with my banter and smiled quite often at my remarks.
Half way through
the first quarter a Claremont
supporter positioned himself near me and began to loudly raise
doubts about the ability and courage of the East Perth
players. I quickly recognized that I was being challenged. Soon the Claremont man and I were engaged in a verbal joust. I
was a student of footy barracking behaviour. I quickly recognized that this
gentleman was a "Responder.” Responders
are barrackers who usually wait for a comment to be made and then take the
opportunity to make the same or similar comment...but this time ironically, and in
support of their own side.
When I thought an
East Perth player should have been paid a mark I would yell out,” Come on, umpire, he only has to hold it. He doesn’t have to
hatch it!” Ah, yes! Rapier like wit.
A few minutes
later, a Claremont
player would hold on to the ball and be paid a mark, at which time Mr Responder
would say, “Now, that WAS a mark”.
I would see a Claremont player get away with what looked
like a throw and call out, “C'mon, Ump, yah big mug. It’s not basketball.”
Later, when an
East Perth player was penalised for throwing, Mr Responder would gleefully
retort in my direction, ”Now, that WAS throwing the ball!”
Just before half
time I
was incensed to see Phil Tierney, the champion East Perth
forward, grabbed without the ball by the rugged Claremont ruckman, Allan Mycock. No free kick was
given.
“What about holding
on to Tierney?” I
shouted at the umpire.
About a minutes later the situation was reversed and Mr Responder screamed out,” What
about holding on to Mycock?” The two ladies
burst out laughing. Mr Responder gasped in embarrassment at the realisation of
what he had just yelled out. I
took a deep drag on my cigarette, casually removed it from my lips, turned to
Mr Responder and nonchalantly enquired, “Do you mind if I finish my cigarette
first?”
Well, the two blonde ladies
shrieked with laughter. I
smiled the smug smile of the victor. Mr Responder did not return after half
time and every time I
caught the eyes of the two ladies they would burst out laughing all over again.
East
Perth won that game. I walked
back to Aberdeen Street
wearing a winner’s grin, for I knew I had played a major role in the Royal’s
great victory that day.
Ah, yes. Football barracking is truly part of our Aussie culture. Long may it remain so.
