Nick Bendel
On its knees
October 15th 2008 14:55
Presumably, Australia’s major sports must also be giving serious thought to how they act in the face of this pandemic. All of them are exposed, although, as is the way with disease, the strong are less vulnerable than the weak. At times such as these, vitality is no longer about appearances, but a matter of cold, hard fact. Organisations that have been displaying an impressive façade, but are actually structurally unsound, are about to have their shaky foundations exposed. Tiger-like strength will be needed to fight this financial flu, which means that it is not enough to be a paper tiger. If it does nothing else, the global crisis will ruthlessly separate those sports that are weak from those that are strong. A reckoning is at hand.
David Gallop and the rest of the NRL powerbrokers must be fearing for the long-term health of their game. The 100th anniversary of the domestic competition was meant to be a celebration, a time to call upon reminiscences of a glorious history in the service of creating a brighter future. Instead, it may come to be regarded as a turning point, as the year in which rugby league began to lose its status as a member of the Australian sporting aristocracy.
The comparisons with the other three footballing codes are unflattering. While they are often the source of good news, much of the last NRL season was spent in soul-searching and finger-pointing. There was considerable debate about the code’s television deal, which generates far less revenue than the AFL’s. There was considerable fretting about the deep pockets of rugby union, which openly covets its rival’s stars. There was considerable embarrassment about the Olympic stadium, which frequently looked near-empty during matches. And there was considerable despair about the defection of Sonny Bill Williams, who was so anxious to be done with the NRL that he paid $750,000 for the privilege. Amidst all this negativity, not even 16,000 people could be coaxed to an average game (compared to 37,000 in the AFL and 14,500 in the emerging A-League).
Nothing better exemplifies rugby league’s superficial strength than its upcoming World Cup. Inviting teams from all over the globe has only served to highlight the fact that the sport contains just three meaningful bases: the east coast of Australia, the north of England and the North Island of New Zealand. The chest-puffing is patently ridiculous, because even the most parochial fan knows that it will never be able to provide the sort of credible international competition that is taken for granted by cricket, union and football.
Tellingly, where rugby league is deceptively strong, rugby union is deceptively weak. For several years, ARU chief executive John O’Neill has been sounding an alarm, warning supporters of waning domestic interest, falling participation rates and a weakening budgetary position. Faced with these valid concerns, what does he do? He schedules an additional Bledisloe Cup test for Hong Kong and watches the money roll in. A bandaid solution it may be, yet it is one that illustrates his code’s superior position. What fixture could Gallop organise if he wanted an injection of funds? After all, the poor bloke can’t even sell out his grand final.
While rugby league may be impotent abroad, that shouldn’t necessarily prevent it from maintaining a strong domestic position. For one shouldn’t forget that Australia’s leading sporting competition is the AFL, which plays no internationals (notwithstanding the annual round of Irish bashing). But at the very moment that the sport needs to muster its strength, it is deteriorating. Assistance from league’s clubs is diminishing. Television rights fees are expected to diminish. And in these troubling financial times, sponsorship dollars and gate receipts are certain to diminish.
Reduced income in turn focuses attention on the NRL’s wobbly structures. Five teams in Queensland, Canberra and Auckland make sense, one team in Melbourne kind of makes sense, while 10 teams in NSW makes absolutely no sense. Sydney, the heartland, should be providing the competition with its lifeblood, but because it supports so many clubs, the city is actually draining the life out of the NRL. Given that Andrew Demetriou, with his superior revenue streams, struggles to keep 10 Victorian clubs afloat, what chance does David Gallop have of sustaining 10 teams in NSW?
If one was to start again- as football did a few years ago, when it replaced the NSL with the A-League- there would perhaps be four Sydney teams, four Queensland teams, along with another six from Melbourne, Canberra, Newcastle, Auckland, Perth and the Central Coast. It is much too late, however, for rugby league to start again. Although the rotten house needs to be torn down and carefully rebuilt, the fans would never allow it. The only thing they will permit is for fresh paint to be applied to the walls and sealer to be applied to the gaps, as all the while the building’s foundations, carefully concealed from view, continue their decay.
Football may have been able to start over, but rugby league has long since passed the point of no return. It can do nothing but doggedly press forward. Unfortunately, though, the future seems to be one of diminished finances and thus diminished relevance, a decline that will only be accelerated by the current credit crisis.
Many will laugh at talk of the game’s demise; it’s too big, they’ll say, and too securely established. Perhaps they’re right. But didn’t they say the same thing about Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac?
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