What Awards Can, and Can’t, Tell us

What Our Awards Say About Us

End-of-season awards are meant to celebrate excellence.

They recognise effort, consistency and impact over a long season. They give us moments of reflection and, ideally, a sense that good football has been noticed.

But awards also reveal something else, often unintentionally.

They show us what a system values, what it sees most clearly, and what it tends to miss.

Who We Notice

In most football competitions, certain players are easier to notice than others.

Goals are obvious.
Assists are visible.
Creative midfielders are constantly involved.

Their influence shows up in moments that stand out.

Defenders, by contrast, rarely win end-of-season awards.

This isn’t a criticism of any voting group. It’s a pattern seen across football at almost every level. Defenders do their best work quietly. When they are excellent, nothing happens. No goal. No celebration. Just an attack stopped before it begins.

Silence, in football, is rarely rewarded.

Proximity and Perception

In Tasmania, awards such as Best and Fairest are often voted on by referees.

That has strengths. Referees are neutral. They see both teams. They are present every week. Their perspective is consistent.

But in a small football community, proximity matters.

Referees know players. They see them week after week. Reputations form. Roles become familiar. Certain styles of play are more visible than others.

That doesn’t imply bias or bad faith. It simply acknowledges that familiarity shapes perception, whether we like it or not.

Familiarity in a Small State

In a small state like Tasmania, proximity is part of daily life.

You are just as likely to see your referee at the gym, the supermarket or a local restaurant as you are on the pitch. That closeness isn’t a criticism. It’s simply the reality of a tight football community.

But it does mean familiarity is unavoidable. And familiarity, even when everyone acts with integrity, shapes perception.

In systems built on judgement, that context matters.

Who Gets to Speak

There is also the reality of communication on the field.

Captains are now the only players permitted to speak to referees. That has improved match control and clarity, but it may also shape visibility.

Some players are constantly in conversation. Others do their work without words. Leadership looks different depending on role, position and personality.

Again, none of this is wrong. But it does influence what is seen and remembered.

The Disappearing Football Writer

In the past, football writers played a role in shaping how performances were understood.

They noticed patterns. They explained context. They highlighted players whose contributions didn’t show up on a stat sheet.

That layer is largely gone now.

Without consistent media coverage, awards lean more heavily on internal systems: referees, coaches and players themselves.

That makes it even more important to understand what each award measures, and what it never can.

How Others Try to Balance It

Even at the highest levels of the game, football accepts that individual awards are subjective.

There is no single, universally agreed way to decide who has been “best” over a season, because performance is complex and contribution looks different depending on where you stand.

The Ballon d’Or is one example. Rather than being decided by officials or administrators, it is voted on by a broad panel of football journalists from around the world. The system doesn’t pretend to remove subjectivity. Instead, it spreads judgement across many observers.

FIFA’s Best Awards take a different approach again, with votes shared between national team coaches, captains, media and fans.

Neither system is flawless. Their relevance here isn’t scale, it’s philosophy. They acknowledge a simple truth: how we decide matters just as much as who wins.

Multiple Awards, Multiple Truths

To Football Tasmania’s credit, we now have multiple awards, including:

Best and Fairest
Players’ Player
Golden Boot
Golden Glove
Coach of the Year
Referee of the Year

Each reflects a different lens.

Players notice things officials don’t. Coaches value different qualities again. Goal tallies tell one story. Peer respect tells another.

None of these are wrong. But none of them are complete.

What Our Awards Already Recognise

At Football Tasmania’s annual awards night, recognition is spread across a wide range of contributions.

Awards are given across multiple competitions and roles, and there are also honours recognising service and contribution to the game more broadly.

This breadth matters. It acknowledges that football impact isn’t one-dimensional.

At the same time, it reinforces a simple truth: no single award, no matter how well intentioned, can capture the full story of a season.

When Awards Matter, and When They Don’t

It’s also worth remembering that not everyone places the same weight on awards.

Some people care deeply. Others barely at all.

I remember one year when a South Hobart player won the former Vic Tuting Best Player award and simply wasn’t at the awards night at Wrest Point. Someone had to go looking for him. He eventually arrived late, still in his shorts and thongs, slightly embarrassed by the fuss.

It wasn’t disrespect.

It was perspective.

For him, the football had mattered. The trophy was secondary.

Coach of the Year

Coach of the Year is another interesting example.

It is often voted on by coaches themselves, which brings its own complexities. Results matter. Improvement matters. Context matters.

Sometimes a coach wins everything and doesn’t win the award. Sometimes the award goes to perceived overachievement rather than dominance.

That can feel strange, but it reflects the subjective nature of judgement.

Awards don’t measure absolute truth. They measure consensus.

The Small State Factor

In a football community like Tasmania, these dynamics are amplified.

Everyone knows everyone. Histories overlap. Conversations travel quickly. Perception can carry as much weight as performance.

That doesn’t mean the system is broken.

It means it is human.

Strong systems don’t eliminate subjectivity. They acknowledge it.

What Awards Are, and What They Aren’t

Awards are symbols.

They recognise excellence as seen through a particular lens. They do not define a career. They do not capture every contribution. They do not tell the full story of a season.

A defender who never wins Best and Fairest can still be the reason a team succeeds. A coach who doesn’t win Coach of the Year can still build something lasting.

Football is too complex to be fully captured by trophies.

Questions Worth Sitting With

So perhaps the most useful thing awards can do is prompt reflection.

What do we notice most easily?
What roles are hardest to see?
How does familiarity shape judgement?
And how do we protect both winners and voters from unnecessary doubt?

These aren’t questions with neat answers.

But in a game that values fairness, they are worth asking.