This was published 1 year ago
‘OMG, what a rush’: The Matildas have made even nihilists believe
By Greg Baum
Melbourne author and researcher Dr Shakira Hussein says she’s always been “aggressively disinterested” in sport and particularly team sport, the legacy of schoolyard bullying. Until two weeks ago, she thought the Matildas were a netball team.
When young, she played backyard soccer with her brothers as “the sacrifice of a loving big sister”. Closer than comfortable encounters with drunken soccer fans on public transport while living in London were “pretty alienating”.
The night the Matildas played France in a World Cup quarter-final, Hussein happened to be staying with her brother and family in Canberra, so against all her instincts, she watched. “And wow,” she said. “Amazing.” Before going home, she bought her nieces and nephews copies of Sam Kerr’s autobiography.
Hussein is not alone in her newfound enthusiasm. Nurse and open-water swimmer Ingrid Sutherland had never watched soccer before the World Cup, but says she is now a glued-on Matildas supporter. “As a mum of two girls, I love what they’re doing for women’s sport and how they represent Australia,” she said.
Journalist and writer Claire Capel-Stanley grew up in a “sports-hating” family and had never watched a game of anything until pressured into a World Cup sweep. “OMG, what a rush,” she said. “Gradually, I’ve started to understand why people watch sport. It’s nice to experience caring a lot about something with other people, especially people you don’t know. Even my mum and dad are watching.”
The extraordinary impact of the Matildas and the World Cup needs no reiteration here. It has exceeded even what Football Australia had hoped for when securing hosting rights for the tournament. It was strategic and became organic. It’s galvanised even a cohort surprised to find themselves so swept up. For soccer, but also for women’s sport generally, it feels like a quantum leap.
David Rowe, an emeritus professor at Western Sydney university with special interest in media, communication, sport, politics and society (and just quietly, a Lionesses fan) thinks it is. “I’m a bit cautious, we’ve seen a few false dawns in the past,” he said. “But on reflection, I actually do think this is a watershed moment. I don’t think there’s any going back from here.
“Quite how big the leap will be we still don’t know, but it’s substantial both for football and for women’s sport in general. I think there’s going to be a spillover effect for other women’s sport. If nothing else, it will shame the likes of the AFL and NRL to do more.”
Or give them a free kick. Sarah Hawkes is a 30-something university tutor. “I’ve never been a sports person,” she said. “After watching the Matildas, it turns out I’m just not a men’s sports person. I’m looking forward to watching the women’s A-League and the AFLW and NRLW in the near future!”
Colin Carter, the former Geelong president who as a commissioner was the architect of the behemoth that is the modern AFL, is sceptical of the concept of a Matildas-led revolution. “What the Matildas did was fantastic, but it’s unlikely to translate into all the things that people are imagining it will. That idea is grossly exaggerated,” he said. “They deserve to be well paid for the audience they brought to the game, but that won’t translate info funds all round.”
Carter divides sports franchises into three: participation, commercial and jingoistic. The last consists of sports events, people and teams who have tapped profoundly but fleetingly into patriotic pride, leaving symbolic rather than substantial legacies for their sports: Lionel Rose in a world title fight, swimmers at the Olympics, even the unforgettable Cathy Freeman night at the Sydney 2000 Olympics, belovedly recalled all over again these last few days.
Carter says this is another such moment. The Matildas will disperse and what will be left behind for soccer is struggling A-League competitions, men and women, and in the wider landscape, for instance, a national netball competition facing existential crisis and an AFL competition that is not kicking as many goals as it ought.
The problem is globalisation. “People don’t watch second best in anything,” said Carter. “On television, you can always see the best in the world. I’m not against women’s sport, but I am a realist.”
To a point, Rowe agrees. He hopes and expects the swell will be from the ground up. “You can’t rely on the sugar hit of a World Cup,” he said.
For all the euphoria about the Matildas and the World Cup, it is notable that corporations are not yet rushing forward with open ATMs in the way you imagine they would for men in these circumstances. Instead, around every corner and in every social media niche, there are yellow-and-green swathed politicians.
Kevin Argus, a senior lecturer in marketing and design thinking at RMIT, says they may be painting themselves into a corner unawares. Speaking to American network CNN, he said younger women had different expectations from sport than their forbears and were now starting to wield electoral influence.
“There’s this overwhelming sense that, if you are not deemed to be fair to women, you will be punished,” he said. “We know politicians act in self-interest, so there is a big shift now towards embracing women’s issues.”
Professor Rowe said public funding was not the complete answer, but it was crucial for infrastructure. “And we’re not going to get our holiday now, so presumably there’s some money around.” Carter said that to lobby for funding for better facilities for women is legitimate. “That’s a social equity issue,” he said.
Money matters, but is not all that counts. Indelible memories of the past month must have cultural capital that will be good for a long time. Freeman might not have changed 400-metre running, but she did change the country.
CNN reporter Hilary Whiteman noted how the Matildas had tripped on the heels of the Barbie phenomenon. Like Barbie, it began with a marketing campaign. “But in recent weeks, as they’ve fought to score goals against the best teams in the world, their grit, determination and teamwork has elevated them into the stratosphere of Aussie culture,” she wrote.
“And unlike Barbie, they are real.”
Shakira Hussein missed the Matildas’ semi-final. She has multiple sclerosis and the short flight back home from Canberra that day exhausted her. But she’s adamantly on board. “Look, I didn’t just buy those Sam Kerr books for my niplings,” she said. “I read the first few chapters before handing them over. They’re great. I’ll be following much more closely from now on.”
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