WHEN THE CAMERAS LEAVE
It’s 3am.
I should be asleep.
Instead I’m watching Argentina and Egypt produce another World Cup classic.
This tournament still has a couple of weeks to run and it has been magnificent.
The football.
The drama.
The stories.
The television audiences.
Watching Australia fall in love with football all over again.
The World Cup hasn’t changed football.
It has simply reminded Australia that football exists.
Then I got up to make a coffee.
On the back porch sat my muddy football boots from last night.
Covered in mud.
Covered in grass.
Covered in reality.
And just like that...
I wasn't watching the World Cup anymore.
I was back where football actually lives.
Here I go again...
If you're already rolling your eyes thinking...
"Not another Victoria Morton article about football funding..."
Congratulations.
You've been paying attention.
Because yes...
Here I go again.
Banging that drum.
I've written about what the Qatar World Cup should have meant.
I've written about not wasting the once-in-a-generation opportunity the FIFA Women's World Cup gave us.
Now, while another magnificent World Cup is still lighting up television screens around the world, I'm looking at a pair of muddy boots wondering whether we've learnt anything at all.
Spoiler alert.
I don't think we have.
Actually...
I'm bloody fed up.
Fed up watching football become fashionable every four years.
Fed up watching politicians discover football just long enough for another photo opportunity.
Fed up hearing speeches about participation while clubs are literally running out of places to put children.
Fed up hearing volunteers praised while expecting them to keep performing miracles.
Because the boots are still muddy.
Nothing has changed.
Last night
Last night around 140 girls and boys squeezed onto one football pitch for the first training session.
An hour later another 100 arrived for the second.
Think about that.
Around 240 children on one winter's evening.
Not because there was a World Cup festival.
Not because it was a special event.
Because it was a normal Tuesday night.
And it wasn't just happening at our club.
It was happening at football grounds all over Tasmania.
And all over Australia.
Parents dropping their children off after work.
Wanting them active.
Healthy.
Engaged.
Off their phones.
Building friendships.
Learning teamwork.
Wonderful.
Now help us find somewhere for them to play.
Instead football clubs all over the country are dividing pitches.
Staggering training.
Negotiating over patches of grass.
Praying the lights stay on.
Crossing their fingers the weather holds.
Making do.
Again.
Every four years politicians discover football
It's become one of my favourite traditions.
The World Cup starts.
Suddenly politicians love football.
Scarves appear.
Jerseys appear.
Selfies appear.
Press releases appear.
Everyone wants to be photographed with a football.
Everyone tells us football has united Australia.
Forgive me if I don't get swept away.
I've seen this movie before.
The script never changes.
Only the cast.
Football gets another pat on the head.
"Wonderful tournament."
"Great participation."
"Football has captured the nation."
Then the cameras leave.
And so does the attention.
Ticket to Play... where exactly?
This week Premier Jeremy Rockliff proudly announced another expansion of the Ticket to Play program.
Good.
Seriously.
Helping families afford sport is exactly what governments should do.
But here's a radical suggestion.
Before we celebrate getting more children into football...
Perhaps we should build somewhere for them to actually play.
What a crazy idea.
Football doesn't have a participation problem.
Football has an infrastructure problem.
Participation without infrastructure isn't sport policy.
It's a waiting list.
Another stadium...
Meanwhile Tasmania debates another oval stadium.
Whether you're for it or against it isn't really my point.
My point is priorities.
Football isn't asking for another stadium.
We're asking for lights.
Drainage.
Change rooms.
Grass.
The boring stuff.
The basics.
Apparently that's the difficult bit.
The magical government money tree
Here's another phrase that always makes me smile.
"The Government is investing..."
Really?
I didn't realise governments had jobs.
Governments don't earn money.
Australians do.
Stop pretending government is some generous relative dipping into its own savings account.
It's spending our money.
Somewhere we've convinced ourselves there's a magical money tree growing behind Parliament House.
There isn't.
We're the money tree.
Every taxpayer.
Every PAYG deduction.
Every GST payment.
Every small business.
Governments don't spend government money.
They decide how to spend ours.
Which means every spending decision is really a decision about priorities.
So yes...
I think we're entitled to ask why Australia's biggest participation sport keeps ending up with the leftovers.
Read the report
If you're wondering whether this is just one grumpy football tragic having another whinge...
Don't take my word for it.
Read the Football Supporters Association Australia report.
Australia has:
1.9 million football participants.
More than 3,300 community clubs.
Government funding averaging just $37 per participant.
A $2.8 billion infrastructure shortfall.
Including:
$1.56 billion for change rooms.
$851 million for lighting.
$391 million for drainage.
Not luxury.
Not corporate boxes.
Not giant scoreboards.
The basics.
Read the report:
Join the Football Supporters Association Australia:
Membership is free.
Volunteer-led.
The bigger its voice becomes, the harder it becomes for governments to ignore Australia's biggest participation sport.
And while you're there, download the template letter to your local MP.
If enough of us stop shaking our heads and actually start speaking up, perhaps someone might finally start listening.
Government didn't build football
Here's another uncomfortable truth.
Governments love celebrating football's growth.
They didn't build it.
Parents did.
Volunteers did.
Coaches did.
Communities did.
Football grew because ordinary Australians kept turning up.
Week after week.
Winter after winter.
Government simply turns up when the cameras do.
When the cameras leave
That's when you'll find football.
Not in the corporate box.
Not in another ministerial media release.
Not posing for photographs in a green and gold scarf.
You'll find it on wet winter nights.
You'll find it under inadequate lights.
You'll find it on overcrowded grounds.
You'll find volunteers somehow making the impossible possible.
Again.
Here is my challenge
Some of you will finish reading this and think...
"There she goes again."
You're right.
Here I go again.
Because until I stop walking past muddy football boots wondering where another 240 children are going to train...
I'm not stopping.
The World Cup still has a couple of weeks to run.
I'll enjoy every minute of it.
But when the final whistle blows, I don't want another speech telling me how much Australia loves football.
I've heard those speeches before.
I want someone to prove it.
Next Tuesday those boots will be muddy again.
Around 240 children will turn up again.
Across Tasmania.
Across Australia.
Volunteers will somehow make it work again.
They always do.
The question isn't whether football will keep turning up.
It always has.
The question is whether governments will ever stop applauding football from the grandstand...
...and finally walk onto the pitch.
Because football doesn't need another pat on the head.
It needs a fair go.