The Closed Shop and the Empty Pyramid

We talk about crowds.
We talk about atmosphere.
We talk about why some clubs feel alive and others feel empty.

But to understand that, we have to understand how the A-League was built.

Because it is not a normal football league.

What a closed shop means

A closed shop league has no promotion and relegation.

Teams are invited.
Or they buy a licence.

Once you are in, you stay in.

Unless the league decides otherwise.

This is how most American sports work.
And it is how the A-League was designed in 2005.

Buying a licence

In a closed shop, clubs do not earn their place through results.

They buy a licence.

Investors pay millions for the right to operate a team in a chosen city.

The logic is simple.

Protect investors.
Control costs.
Create stability.

It can work as an entertainment model.

But football grew differently almost everywhere else in the world.

Through local clubs.
Through promotion and relegation.
Through history.

From Football Australia to the APL

Originally, the A-League was run by Football Australia.

Later control passed to the clubs themselves through the Australian Professional Leagues.

The structure stayed the same.

Closed shop.
Licences.
Franchises.

More commercial control, but still separated from the grassroots pyramid.

Why this was done

Australia had problems in the old NSL.

Financial instability.
Governance failures.
Real tension around identity.

So the new league wanted a clean start.

New names.
New badges.
Neutral identities.

It was meant to create a national, television-friendly competition.

And in some ways it worked.

Some clubs built strong followings.

The early years were exciting.

But something else was lost.

History.

I was there when the league expanded

I have to be honest.

I was part of a Tasmanian bid group when Macarthur and Western United were admitted.

We sat in meetings.
We heard the arguments.
We saw the numbers.

There was nothing secret about it.

Foxtel made it clear that more teams in Sydney and Melbourne meant more derbies.

More derbies meant lower travel costs, easier scheduling, and potentially more subscriptions.

So expansion leaned towards those markets.

It made sense at the time.

Television drove the league.

And then the world changed

Foxtel walked away from football.

Broadcast money shrank.

The model that justified expansion shifted underneath the league.

When television money falls, you are left with something simpler.

Crowds.
Community.
Local identity.

And those things cannot be engineered overnight.

When new clubs struggle

Some franchise clubs connect to real communities.

Others struggle.

Western United struggled for identity and stability.

Macarthur still struggles for crowds.

Because people ask a simple question.

Why should this be my club.

Without history, that answer is hard.

A Saturday reminder

Yesterday we streamed Oakleigh Cannons and Preston Lions.

A big crowd.

Greek families.
Macedonian families.
Generations together.

Those clubs carry migration stories.

They carry memory.

They carry belonging.

That cannot be created in a boardroom.

Even in Tasmania we see it every week.

Old clubs still draw people because they are part of family life.

The JackJumpers lesson

Look at the Tasmania JackJumpers.

They filled arenas and inspired children across Tasmania to play basketball.

That is real success.

More kids picked up a ball.

But we still do not have enough community courts.

We did not before.
We do not now.

Professional teams create excitement.

Facilities create participation.

If funding keeps flowing upward, the base of the pyramid cannot grow.

Football faces the same risk.

What I thought then

At the time, I saw the value in being in the A-League.

Visibility.
Sponsors.
Professional pathways.

It looked like the future.

But looking around Australia today, I am less sure.

Because the real question is not whether the A-League has value.

The question is who it helps.

Why clubs like ours would not benefit

For community clubs in Tasmania, an A-League franchise would not solve our real problems.

It would not build changerooms.
It would not add lights.
It would not pay junior coaches.
It would not solve ground shortages.

Franchises live in big markets.

Grassroots football grows through local clubs.

Through schools.
Through families.
Through volunteers.

Our challenge is facilities and participation.

Not television exposure.

The danger of believing visibility equals growth

We often assume a professional team lifts the whole game.

Sometimes it does.

Sometimes it does not.

A derby on television does not train a nine-year-old on a wet Tuesday night.

A licence fee does not fund girls’ changerooms in Ulverstone.

And expansion does not automatically strengthen local clubs.

That is not criticism.

It is structure.

What actually builds a club

A football club is not just a team.

It is memory.

Grandparents bringing children.
Local rivalries.
Shared heartbreak.
Years of small Saturdays.

That is why community clubs endure.

Because they are woven into people’s lives.

You cannot buy that in five years.

The honest conclusion

I am not anti-A-League.

I am pro-football.

Professional leagues matter.

So do state leagues.
So do community clubs.

But we have to stop pretending that a franchise league automatically lifts the grassroots.

Sometimes the best investment in sport is not another professional team.

It is lights.
Fields.
Coaches.
Girls’ pathways.
Volunteer support.

The things that keep clubs alive.

The next conversation

London City Lionesses are trying to build a club without inherited fans.

The A-League tried something similar in Australia.

What can each learn from the other.

That is the next post.

Because building a club without roots is one of the hardest things in sport.

And we are still learning that lesson today.