I’ll Help Tony

Photo courtesy of Tony Pignata OAM Twitter feed - yes I still call it Twitter

Somebody Had To Go

I want to help Tony Pignata.

Because football leadership can be a lonely burden.

While thousands of volunteers across Australia spend their weekends setting up grounds, running canteens, coaching children, refereeing games and sitting through committee meetings, somebody has to make the sacrifice of attending the FIFA World Cup.

Thankfully, Tony was prepared to put his hand up.

And, in a selfless act of public service, he was kind enough to share the moment with the rest of us.

Passport.

Boarding pass.

Glass of champagne.

Off we go.

The perfect football leadership starter pack.

Now before anyone reaches for the keyboard, let me be clear.

This is not about whether Tony should go.

For all I know, Tony is funding the trip himself.

He may be taking annual leave.

He may simply be a football fan heading to one of the great sporting events on the planet.

Good luck to him.

Most of us would go too.

The issue isn't the trip.

The issue is the photograph.

The View From The Lounge

What makes perfect sense in an airport lounge can look very different from the touchline of a suburban football ground.

Excitement.

Anticipation.

A once-in-four-years football pilgrimage.

Seen from one angle, it is completely understandable.

Seen from another, it says something else entirely.

Because photographs tell stories.

Often stories the person posting them never intended.

The View From The Touchline

I'll be honest.

The photograph probably made me a little envious.

This week, while Tony was looking forward to the World Cup, I was discussing which coaches would cover multiple venues, responding to emails, and speaking with the CRJFA ground contractor about whether the nets and corner flags had arrived for West Hobart Oval.

Not quite the same level of anticipation.

No boarding pass.

No airport lounge.

No champagne.

Just the glamorous reality of grassroots football administration.

I briefly considered posting a photograph of a box of pegs, a bundle of corner flags and a CRJFA fixture spreadsheet.

Sadly, I doubted it would receive the same engagement.

But perhaps that's why the photograph struck a nerve.

Because for every person heading to a World Cup, there are hundreds quietly doing the work that allows football to function every weekend.

The game needs both.

The challenge for football leaders is remembering which group they represent.

While one group is posting boarding passes, another group is posting volunteer rosters.

While one group is posting champagne glasses, another group is posting requests for referees.

While one group is heading to the World Cup, another group is trying to work out how to keep football affordable for families.

While one group is checking departure times, another group is checking whether enough parents have volunteered for the canteen.

And that is where the irony lives.

Must Be Nice

Football leaders often speak passionately about grassroots football.

They talk about volunteers being the lifeblood of the game.

They talk about listening.

They talk about understanding the challenges clubs face.

Then every now and then a photograph appears that makes ordinary football people stop scrolling and think:

"Must be nice."

Not because they begrudge someone a trip.

Not because they don't love football themselves.

But because the gap between the people making decisions and the people keeping the game alive suddenly feels a little more visible.

The irony, of course, is that nobody asked Tony to post the photograph.

Nobody demanded proof that he was attending the World Cup.

Nobody required a passport, boarding pass and champagne glass to be arranged neatly for social media.

That was a choice.

Which is why the photograph is so fascinating.

It tells us not just where Tony was going.

It tells us what he thought was worth sharing.

Not Wrong. Just Tone Deaf.

The photo wasn't offensive.

The photo wasn't scandalous.

The photo wasn't even wrong.

It was simply tone deaf.

Leadership is not just about what you do.

Leadership is understanding how things look.

The best leaders have an instinct for that.

They know when to celebrate.

They know when to stay quiet.

And they know that not every special football experience needs to be shared.

Particularly when so many of the people you represent are dealing with a very different reality.

Where Football Lives

Football is not found in airport lounges.

It is found on wet Saturday mornings.

It is found in canteens.

It is found in committee rooms.

It is found in volunteer working bees.

It is found in parents driving hundreds of kilometres so their children can play the game they love.

It is found in coaches setting alarms before sunrise.

It is found in volunteers locking the gates long after everyone else has gone home.

The game does not survive because a handful of people get to attend the World Cup.

It survives because thousands of people never do.

They are the volunteers opening the gates, putting up the nets, washing the strips, organising the fixtures, chasing referees and locking up long after everyone else has gone home.

That's where football lives.

And perhaps that's why the photograph felt so tone deaf.

Not because Tony is going to the World Cup.

Not because he posted a photograph.

But because at a time when so many people are doing the unglamorous work of keeping football alive, the image felt disconnected from the reality most football people experience.

The further football leaders travel from the touchline, the more important it becomes to remember where the game actually lives.