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A-Leagues fans often reference the so-called glory days of 2012-2016 with fervent nostalgia.
Chocolate tasted better. The music was better (Gotye truly now is somebody that I used to know). Parramatta’s old stadium was better. Bozza’s laugh was sweeter to the ear.
Of course, the elevated value of the A-Leagues and the metrics associated with these halcyon days are not in question. Increased broadcast viewership, increased attendances, handy marquees, and a lavish six-year broadcast deal with Foxtel in 2016 are not to be swept under the rug.
However, the enduring cultural impact of this worshipped era has arguably proven more damaging to the A-Leagues than the positive objective impacts those four years had.
For close to a decade, the A-Leagues has suffered a niggling deficiency discourse from Australian football fans: a discourse (a paradigm, the prevailing social discussion) of something being wrong or inadequate has seemingly sundered every A-Leagues discussion.
Because of its transient fleeting moment in the limelight (‘like tears in rain’, as replicant Roy Batty describes in his grandiose soliloquy), football fans now pay undue attention to the fact it failed to reach its peak.
Instead of simply ‘letting the A-Leagues breathe’ (as English pundit Max Rushden once described upon his arrival to Australia), and simply enjoying it for what it is, we belittle and bemoan it for failing to live up to the lofty and unrealistic standards we have since placed on it.
We believe there to be ‘something wrong with it.’
This is not to refute rightful criticism and ask the tough questions. But ultimately, this is a job for paid journalists.
Us fans must change our patterns of thinking. We should stop catastrophising and filtering out the good, and understand this spike was not the earned result of natural growth but rather an unnatural aberration (primarily a result of Alessandro Del Piero and the Wanderers, a question for another article).
The glory days gave the A-Leagues an inflated bubble. The bubble was always going to burst, leaving fans scratching their heads as to why (when, in fact, the A-Leagues was still an egg inside the bubble).
The rocky path of the A-Leagues echoes that of a proud golfer.
(Photo by Mark Metcalfe/Getty Images)
Imagine, if you will, a man nearing retirement, short-cropped grey hair on his stern face, looking to buy his third investment property in Maroubra to impress his 34-year-old mistress. His golf handicap is 29 but tells his colleagues at the investment firm (where his stepson has just made junior partner, mind you) his handicap is 14.
One particularly crisp autumn morning on the course, the southern breeze flows in his favour and the bright sun droops behind the soft clouds, and to his pleasant surprise he hits a birdie. A rare smile cracks his steely lips.
Miraculously, he hits another. Flabbergasted, he continues this run of form for the next 16 holes, scoring an impressive 66 overall (he often rips the scorecard once it goes over 90).
Believing this to be is his natural level, he returns the following day after church and hits 11 triple-bogies and just one par, scoring 118. Must be the wind, he thinks, returning yet again on Monday to score a whopping 129.
‘Bah, just one of those mornings’, he laments, and his Liberal sticker peels off his 2023 Mercedes-Benz as he drives off in frustration, eager to try again tomorrow.
Before he knows it, old mate has forgotten to enjoy the golf, to enjoy the brisk breeze, the day out. He becomes beholden, a slave, to his constant disappointment of never reaching his self-perceived ‘regular’ level, failing to accept it was just a single miraculous occurrence.
Sound familiar?
For A-Leagues fans, constant comparisons are made between now and then, and we often fail to appreciate the good that has happened: the influx of young players abroad (Irankunda, Kuol, Bos) and the financial returns for clubs; free-to-air coverage (two live back-to-back matches on prime-time Saturday); gradual growth in all metrics post-COVID, just to name a few.
And we frustratingly ignore outside factors, attributing blame solely (and perhaps unfairly) on the leagues itself for its regression to the mean. This includes changes in consumer behaviours (lifestyle trends – we would rather stay home now, preferring mini-matches, highlights and clips on social media) and the pre-COVID sports broadcast bubble bursting. The glory days ‘obsession’ has made us completely overlook these vital factors.
(Photo by Mark Metcalfe/Getty Images)
The glory days mentality affects clubs too. Many have become complacent and rely on rich history, taking their fans for granted.
Western Sydney Wanderers proudly bask in their 2014 Asian Champions League glory, showing off the trophy off each time the players walk through the tunnel to an echoing 7000 fans at CommBank. Even Manchester United have parallels, crossing to shots of a disgruntled Sir Alex Ferguson in the Old Trafford crowd following a 0-4 loss to Bournemouth.
Yet although the so-called glory days was a temporary blip, this does not mean the leagues will not eventually flourish in due time.
As stated, the year-on-year metrics post-COVID are very promising (crowds, TV viewership and memberships are trending upward).
And what can we learn going ahead? If the A-Leagues again experiences an unnaturally cosmic peak (beyond its anticipated growth trajectory), let’s hold our horses and not get carried away. ‘Twice the pride, double the fall’, said the wise Count Dooku.
For now, it might be difficult, but the quicker we all collectively forget about the golden era, the better.
Reach for the stars once, and you won’t enjoy Earth again … until you let the stars go.
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