The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Likes

Why we complain to Facebook before we complain to the people who can actually fix it

I complain.

There. We've got that out of the way.

I have complained about Football Tasmania. I have complained about councils. I have complained about decisions I think are wrong, systems I think don't work and occasionally things that simply irritate the hell out of me.

I am, by any reasonable definition, a squeaky wheel.

Football Tasmania CEO Tony Pignata has probably copped the brunt of my squeaking in recent times.

And Tony has said something to me more than once that is entirely fair.

Pick up the phone. Ask me.

Fair ask.

Because there is a difference between challenging a decision and simply gathering an audience for your displeasure.

And I'm beginning to wonder whether social media has made us forget the difference.

Who are we actually complaining to?

Something happens at football.

A roster changes. A game is moved. A ground closes. A decision is made. Somebody doesn't like a rule. A child doesn't get selected. A referee makes a call.

Sometimes there is a perfectly legitimate reason to be unhappy.

But increasingly the first response isn't to contact the person or organisation responsible.

It is to post about it.

Facebook. A club group. A parents' chat. Somewhere with an audience.

And the question that interests me is why.

If I genuinely want something fixed surely my first question should be:

Who can fix this?

Instead somewhere along the way that seems to have become:

Who agrees with me?

The squeaky wheel has changed

The old saying tells us that the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

And there is some truth in that.

Things change because people speak up.

Sport needs squeaky wheels.

Administrators should be challenged. Governing bodies should be accountable. Clubs shouldn't be immune from criticism simply because they are run by volunteers. Bad decisions should be questioned.

I certainly intend to keep doing it.

But the modern squeaky wheel has discovered something even more immediately satisfying than grease.

Likes.

Comments.

Agreement.

Someone saying, "That's disgraceful."

Someone else saying, "We had exactly the same thing happen."

Then someone joins in with something that happened three seasons ago involving completely different people and circumstances.

Before long a relatively ordinary problem has developed its own prosecution, witnesses and jury.

And quite possibly nobody has actually contacted the person who could fix it.

The Supreme Court of Facebook

Social media is particularly good at validating us.

If I'm annoyed and I tell you I'm annoyed there is a reasonable chance you will tell me I have every right to be annoyed.

That feels good.

It doesn't necessarily mean I'm right.

It just means I found the jury I wanted.

It's easy to look at one decision, from the outside, and be certain it's wrong.

That's not a fault of new people or old ones. It happens to all of us the moment we're only looking at our own team, our own kid, our own patch of the competition.

The decision you see today may have ten years of history behind it.

There may be regulations you don't know about. There may be ground restrictions. There may have been three alternatives considered before the decision was made. There may be another organisation involved. There may be 200 other teams affected by the solution that appears obvious when you are looking only at your own team.

None of that means the decision is necessarily right.

It just means there might be more to know before declaring it wrong.

So ask.

I need to take my own advice

This is where things become slightly uncomfortable for me.

Because I'm very good at squeaking.

I have strong opinions about football and I'm not particularly reluctant to express them.

Tony Pignata knows this better than most.

When I asked in print why four club presidents were quietly chosen to speak for the rest.

He knows it from the airport lounge. When a boarding pass and a champagne glass became a talking point instead of a holiday snap.

He has read plenty of my questions before he has ever heard my voice ask them.

But his response to me is worth remembering.

Pick up the phone.

Ask me.

Not, "Don't criticise Football Tasmania."

Not, "You're not allowed to disagree."

Just ask.

Give me an opportunity to explain.

And perhaps that is the reasonable standard for all of us.

Before I criticise publicly, have I asked the person involved what happened?

Do I know the facts?

Do I understand the decision?

Have I allowed for the possibility that there is information I don't have?

And after hearing the explanation, if I still think it's wrong?

Well, squeak away.

Complaining can be useful

I don't want a world where everybody sits quietly and accepts whatever administrators, councils, clubs or governing bodies tell them.

That would be dreadful.

Some of the best changes in sport have happened because somebody became sufficiently irritated to keep asking questions.

And sometimes speaking out publicly is exactly the point.

Because "who can fix this" doesn't always have a phone number attached to it.

The current Change.org petition calling for Gianni Infantino to go is a good example.

Whatever you think of the petition itself, it isn't someone posting because their child got the wrong kick-off time or because they didn't like a referee's decision.

It is organised public pressure aimed at the most powerful office in world football, a person no ordinary fan can simply ring.

That is speaking out.

That is using numbers, visibility and public support deliberately to say: we think something is wrong and we want change, because there is no other door to knock on.

Tony Pignata's door, on the other hand, is one I have his number for.

There is a time for taking the complaint directly to the person who can fix it.

And there is a time for making enough noise that the people in power cannot ignore it.

Knowing the difference matters.

The squeaky wheel really does sometimes get the grease.

But there is a difference between advocacy and outrage.

Advocacy is trying to change something.

Outrage is sometimes just trying to recruit people to your side.

And social media has made the second one extraordinarily easy.

It takes considerably more effort to write a thoughtful email, make a phone call, listen to an explanation and perhaps discover that the situation is more complicated than we thought.

It takes about thirty seconds to post:

"Absolutely disgusted. Thoughts?"

And away we go.

So keep squeaking

I'm certainly going to.

There will undoubtedly be occasions when Tony sees my name appear on his phone and considers letting it go to voicemail.

There will be decisions I disagree with. There will be things I think should change. There will be times when I make those views public.

That is part of caring about something.

And perhaps that is really the distinction.

Complaining isn't the problem.

Questioning isn't the problem.

Being a squeaky wheel isn't the problem.

The question is what we want our squeaking to achieve.

So perhaps before any of us press Post there is one useful question worth asking ourselves.

Do I want this problem solved, or do I want people to agree with me?

If we want it solved, we should start with the mechanic.

Then, if necessary, we can always squeak.