Strewth: Tickets to deride

The curious tradition of the No. 1 ticketholder at footy clubs and the politicians who become fans in grand final week.

If not for the impromptu restructure in Canberra last month, there might’ve been a sporting battle in the NRL final that mirrored the political: Sydney v Melbourne, the Roosters v the Storm, Malcolm Turnbull v Bill Shorten. Shorten is a big Melbourne Storm fan while Turnbull backs the Sydney Roosters. Turnbull is listed on an obscure Wikipedia page as the Roosters’ No 1 ticketholder, a role the club knew nothing about when asked. The No 1 ticketholder is a curious tradition that is more prevalent in the AFL. At grand final time, it bears a second look. “Possession of the number one ticket is largely symbolic,” says Wikipedia. “The ticket is often given to a celebrity or past player in order to raise the profile of the club.” Arguably, it is more often to raise the profile or popularity of the local member. As one sports reporter in the office puts it: “That role is usually given to someone who knows f..k-all about football”. Paul Keating leaps to mind as one who failed to convince Collingwood fans he was a rusted-on supporter in the 1990s.

He also applauded rugby league great Steve “Blocker” Roach by noting he had “kicked a lot of tries for Balmain”. In 2007, Peter Costello was No 1 ticketholder for Cronulla, apparently — an unusual role for him, given the Melbourne-born former treasurer held the same role between 2001 and 2008 with the Essendon Bombers. Scott Morrison is, of course, No 1 at Cronulla now. Former PM John Howard was No 1 at St George Illawarra and Kevin Rudd had elite tickets for the Brisbane Broncos. Julia Gillard was numero uno at AFL’s Western Bulldogs and was touted as the “inaugural No 1 female ticket holder” at the Storm, where music guru Molly Meldrum, the former sole No 1 holder, was forced to share as the “No 1 male ticket holder”. He’s now (unofficially) been restored to the earlier position, we’re told. Julie Bishop is No 1 at the West Coast Eagles, touting a scarf, a fist and a grin on Instagram. Collingwood, meanwhile, has never had a No 1 ticketholder, saying in 2009: “All members are equally important.” One would think Eddie McGuire has a pretty decent seat, though.

Envoy envy

The Top End travels of “Uncle” Tony Abbott, now entrenched as Morrison’s special envoy for indigenous affairs, continue. After a visit with schoolkids at Nhulunbuy this week, where they dissed his choice of car, and a flying visit to old mate Galarrwuy Yunupingu at Gunyangara, things really heated up. He came under fire for not telling people he was coming, leading the Northern Territory Labor government’s Aboriginal Affairs Minister Ken Vowles to accuse him of “get(ting) around kissing some black kids and getting some good photo opportunities, but actually doing nothing”. Abbott had a lukewarm reception at Borroloola, with community leader Gadrian Hoosan reportedly saying of a school meeting that “he looked like he couldn’t wait to get out of there”. “He’ll be having nightmares tonight,” Hoosan added. “We told him we don’t want him as our envoy.” The new job might be looking, to use a word he learned just this week, a bit gammon. Which is to say, not good.

Strange cove

In the strawberry fields of Queensland’s Glass House Mountains, Morrison yesterday deftly showed his colleagues how to answer questions of Australian historical significance. “Prime Minister, what happened in Australia on January 26, 1788?” a journalist asked him. “A flag was raised in Farm Cove. That is what happened,” Morrison replied. Most history books have it as Sydney Cove, not Farm Cove, which is several hundred metres to the east, but in this case we’ll give him a B+ for confidence.