No crowd, no point: why footy is the social fabric of regional towns

In the remote Victorian town of Colbinabbin, there’s no way they’ll play footy without the community being able to be there.

Footy and Netball Club president Bernie Ryan, back left, and seniors coach Julian Bull, back right, at training in the remote Victorian town of Colbinabbin. Picture: Aaron Francis

The big boys of the AFL might be set to play their shortened season under a no-spectator rule, but there’s no chance the Colbinabbin Hoppers will don their beloved green and gold to follow suit.

“It’s just not what country footy is about,” says 50-year-old Bernie Ryan, farmer, father of four and club president of the Col­bin­abbin Football Netball Club, in Victoria’s Heathcote and District league, smack bang in the middle of the state.

“It’s pointless to play sport on a Saturday, football or netball, in a community without being able to have that community there.

“The idea has been bandied about as a way to get back on the park, and our league still hasn’t ruled it out, but even our keenest players recognise it’s not just about them,” Mr Ryan says.

The AFL might have finally worked through the politics to land on a compromise 2020 competition, but the arrangements for football at the lower levels are still unclear. And the longer this uncertainty remains for both footy and community sport in general, the greater the social impact.

The government COVID-19 response to date has focused on policies to limit damage to the ­nation’s collective health and to the economy. Mental health has also been at the forefront of consideration, but the broader impact on the nation’s social fabric has ­arguably been less of a focus.

Community sport is vital to ­social cohesion, particularly in the nation’s smaller regional towns. In the city, a parent might go and watch their child’s footy, soccer or netball game, then head home. Colbinabbin is a town of just 100 or so, maybe 300 if you count the surrounding farms, but here almost­ everyone stays on after the junior footy or netball to watch the seniors in the afternoon.

“A small town is made up of many groups. There’ll be the historical society, the cemetery trust, the religious groups, the environmental group, and the local farming group. What pulls them all together is the Football Netball Club,” Mr Ryan says.

“And pretty much 100 per cent of the kids in these towns and surrounds­ play in these clubs, because­ they know if they don’t there won’t be enough players to field teams. That means the parent­s and grandparents are all ­involved too.”

Colbinabbin senior coach ­Julian Bull knows how much his players are missing footy and all that goes with it. Some are farmers, and their mental health is bolstered­ by the social nature of practice and the game.

“But if it’s a ‘no’ to crowds, then it’s not for us,” Mr Bull says.

“Football is about more than the players. It’s about the kids who come into the dressing room before the game and listen to every word we say. It’s about the old-timers who park in the same spot by the fence every week to watch.

“That’s why you play. That’s why you get guys driving back from Melbourne (two hours each way) every week to play.’’

The importance of the local footy team to Colbinabbin and its surrounds is evident from the drive into the town.

Approaching from Bendigo in the west, a road sign declares the driver has reached the “Home of the Hoppers”. Head down Mitchell­ Street, the town’s main (almost only) street, past the one pub and the hardware store, and the footy ground and netball courts are ­finally reached.

“On match day you’ll feel the anticipation. There will be people pulled up at the shop having a chat, and when you roll into the ground most of the town will ­already be there. There’ll be a crowd of 300 for the seniors,” Mr Bull says.

The threads of footy’s social fabric are woven tight in Colbinabbin. The town’s pub is owned by Julie Price, whose 29-year-old son, Dave, a high school teacher, is captain of the Hoppers’ senior team. He’s married to a local girl, and his grandfather used to be the club’s president.

Mr Bull, who works at the ­Environment Protection Authority in Bendigo, married the daughter of a local farmer, and their two young children are already being steeped in Hopper history. Half his team live in Melbourne, and the full team only trains together once a month.

Mr Ryan, who first pulled on a pair of boots for the Hoppers aged four, has spent most of his life on the family’s sheep and grain farm a few kilometres from the ground. His 19 year-old daughter plays in the netball seniors, and his three teenage sons all play for the club.

“The farmers are generally isolated. There’s a lot of anguish and stress because so many aspects of farming are out of your control,” he says. “One way of dealing with that is communicating, and there’s nothing like sitting down for a couple of hours and talking to people. That’s something I’m missing a lot at the moment for sure.”