Think Before You Write

Brian Murphy, Devonport Strikers' new NPL Head Coach for 2027. His appointment prompted some thoughts about social media, football families and kindness.

We all have opinions about football. But when did sharing them become more important than considering the people on the receiving end?

I was reading Matthew's post on Tassie Football Central about Brian Murphy being appointed coach of Devonport Strikers for 2027.

It's a big job. Devonport is one of Tasmania's most successful football clubs and expectations are always high. Brian knows that. Anyone taking on that position knows that.

Then I started reading the comments.

Some were supportive. Others questioned Brian's coaching record, made jokes about the number of clubs he'd coached and predicted how long he might last at Devonport.

Some seemed to quite enjoy the idea of him failing.

And I wondered why.

Why do people feel the need to write those things publicly? What do they get out of it? A few likes? A laughing emoji? The satisfaction of knowing someone else agrees?

I know Brian can be outspoken on social media. He certainly isn't afraid to express an opinion and sometimes that attracts a response. I'm not suggesting he or any other coach should be immune from criticism.

But surely there's a difference between questioning someone's coaching record and taking pleasure in the possibility that they might fail.

And why do we need to say everything we're thinking?

Some of you might stop reading here.

You might think, here she goes again. Pontificating. Telling us all how to behave.

Who is she to say this?

Fair question.

But I do have a bit of experience with this.

I was President of South Hobart for 16 years.

For all 16 of them I was also the person who answered the complaint emails.

And I'm married to a football coach.

Two of my sons are coaches too.

There's a family behind every football person

In September I met Brian's wife and their lovely girls at the Hobart Cup.

They love football.

Even the club's announcement welcomed Brian and his family to the Strikers community.

And as I read those comments, I thought about them.

What would it be like to read strangers making fun of your husband or father? To see people predicting that someone you love will fail before he's even started his new job?

People might think they're only having a bit of fun or making a clever remark.

But the person they're writing about has a family.

A wife, a husband, children, parents, friends.

People who love them and who might read every word.

We seem to forget that when we're sitting behind a keyboard.

And it isn't just Brian or Tasmanian football.

Imagine being married to a Premier League manager

Good God. Imagine it.

Look at Michael Carrick right now.

Earlier this year he took over Manchester United and they finished third.

Now they've had their worst start to a league season in 40 years and people are calling for him to go.

I know exactly how bad it's been.

Ken makes me watch every United game.

They're horrible at the moment.

I sit there grumbling that one of the other games might be better on replay.

No way. Ken's United through and through.

And if it's tough watching from a lounge in Hobart, I wouldn't want to be Carrick's family at the moment.

It would be horrendous.

Imagine your husband is managing a Premier League club. His team loses a few games and suddenly thousands of people are telling the world he's a shit coach, should be sacked and doesn't know what he's doing.

And you're his wife.

You haven't selected the team. You haven't made the substitutions. You haven't lost the match.

You've simply married someone who works in football.

Imagine opening your phone in the morning.

The bloody algorithm knows you love football. It knows what you follow, what you read and what interests you.

And there it all is.

Post after post. Comments, jokes, abuse and predictions about your husband's future.

You might not even follow the pages where the comments are being made. It doesn't matter. It finds you anyway.

And what about the children?

Imagine going to school after your father's team has lost and hearing other children repeat what they've read online or heard their parents say.

Now I know Premier League managers are well paid and they understand the pressures of the job. Public scrutiny comes with professional football.

But their families didn't necessarily sign up for that.

And money doesn't make your family immune from being hurt.

The scale might be different in Tasmania, but the feelings aren't.

I don't actually have to imagine it.

And I'm about to do it all over again.

My son Max coaches at Northcote, who have just been promoted to the NPL.

My stepson Nick plays for him.

Nick has already had his fair share of shite as a player.

Being named NPL Tasmania Player of the Year three years in a row shut most of them up.

Not all of them.

Now the pair of them will cop it from different directions.

I expect there will be comments.

I'll try not to read them.

But gee, that will be impossible.

I know what it's like to want to fight back

I've been involved in football for a very long time and I've certainly had my share of criticism.

Some of it was fair. Some of it wasn't.

When you're involved in running a football club or a business, making decisions and expressing opinions, not everyone is going to agree with you.

I understand that.

But I found it much harder when the comments were about Ken, Max, my business or someone in my family.

Then I would get angry.

Really angry sometimes.

I wanted to fight back. I wanted to correct things I believed were unfair, defend the people I loved and tell the other side of the story.

There have been hundreds of times I wanted to hit publish.

When people wrote about how evil Morton's Soccer School was, I had my reply written in my head.

More than once.

I resisted.

Not because I wasn't upset. Quite the opposite.

Sometimes silence is more powerful than anything you could possibly write in response.

But that doesn't mean it's easy.

Sometimes it's eating you up inside while the person who wrote the comment has probably forgotten all about it and moved on to something else.

And that made me think about fairness.

Why should someone be able to publish something hurtful about another person, have a laugh about it and then carry on with their day?

Why should the person on the receiving end have to develop a thicker skin or learn not to read social media?

Why is that always the answer?

I'm certainly not perfect

And no, I'm not putting myself on a pedestal.

Far from it.

My friends and I have opinions about people. We talk about football, coaches, clubs, decisions and all sorts of things.

And yes, sometimes we say unkind things.

I'm sure most of us do.

We get frustrated. We disagree with people. We might even have a good old whinge about someone over a cup of coffee all whilst relaxing on the deck chairs in the garden.

But we don't feel the need to put every negative thought on Facebook for the world to see.

And I think there's a significant difference.

Not every thought needs to be shared publicly.

Not every opinion needs an audience.

And not everything that makes your mates laugh needs to be written beneath someone's photograph.

There are plenty of things I've thought over the years that I'm very glad I didn't write!

Tasmania is a very small place

Our football community is even smaller.

We all know one another, or at least know of one another.

We see each other at games, tournaments, meetings and grounds across the state. Sometimes more often than we might like!

The person you're criticising on Facebook on Saturday might be standing beside you at a football ground the following weekend.

Their children might play against your children.

Their partner might volunteer at the same tournament.

And the person you've just made fun of might be someone you'll need to work alongside one day.

Would you say the same thing to their face?

Perhaps some people would. But I suspect many wouldn't.

It's much easier to write something from the comfort of your lounge room than to look another human being in the eye and say it.

And we can forget just how small our football world really is.

Criticism isn't the same as cruelty

Football is full of opinions.

We argue about team selections, refereeing decisions, coaches, administrators, players and club appointments.

That's part of the game.

I write about football myself and I certainly don't shy away from expressing an opinion. I've been critical of decisions and organisations when I believe it's warranted.

And I expect people to challenge me.

You can believe Brian Murphy isn't the right appointment for Devonport.

You can question his coaching history.

You can disagree with things he's written or said.

But do you really need to make jokes about him failing before he's even started?

What does that achieve?

One unkind comment might seem harmless.

But when one becomes ten, the person reading them doesn't see ten separate people.

They see a pile-on.

Think before you write

My dad said a lot of things when I was growing up.

As a know-all child, I thought most of them were pointless.

But it's funny how you remember them.

He must have said this one often, because I can still hear him saying it.

"Think before you speak."

Simple advice.

And good advice.

I suppose in those days we didn't have the opportunity to share every thought with hundreds or thousands of people at the touch of a button.

If we said something unkind, it generally reached whoever was within earshot.

Today we can publish it to the world in seconds.

And once it's out there, we have very little control over who reads it, shares it or remembers it.

So perhaps my dad's advice needs a little updating.

Think before you write.

Before you hit the keyboard next time, reverse the situation.

Imagine someone was writing those things about your daughter.

Your father.

Your husband or wife.

Your son.

Someone you love.

Would you think it was funny?

Or would you feel angry, hurt and desperate to defend them?

I suspect most of us know the answer.

Let's not take the love of football away

I keep coming back to Brian's family.

I met them at the Hobart Cup, the tournament I organise. This year 4,000 kids played, all because they love football.

That's what our game should be about.

Yes, there is competition. There is pressure. There are wins and losses, good coaches and bad coaches, good decisions and terrible ones.

And there will always be criticism.

But somewhere along the way, surely we have to remember that football is about people.

I hope Brian does well at Devonport. I hope he enjoys his new job and I hope his family enjoys being part of the Devonport football community.

Most of all, I hope his girls continue to love the game.

Because that's what we should want for every football family.

We don't have to agree with everyone.

We don't even have to like everyone.

But surely we can show a little kindness.

Think before you speak.

And in 2026, think before you write.

Be kind.