The Rituals, Rivalries, and Realities of Country Footy
Footy finals fever has hit country SA, and with that comes knee-high socks, bum pats, and a tuneless sing-song at the end of the game for the victors. If you’ve ever sat on the sidelines and pondered what inspires grown men to willingly squeeze themselves into tight shorts and a sleeveless stripy jumper on Saturday afternoons, you’re not alone. I’ve been a footy mum for longer than I ever imagined, and trust me, the world of country sport is a fascinating place.
Living in rural South Australia, you quickly learn that if you want to see your town and clubs survive, you’ve got to put in a few years of service. Whether you’re cheering from the sidelines, part of the committee, running the canteen, or ferrying kids to games, everyone does their bit to keep the wheels turning. It’s like an unwritten rule – you’re part of the village, and the village keeps the game alive….at no cost!
Aussie Rules has been around for over 160 years. When a bloke named Tom Wills decided cricketers needed something to do in winter, he borrowed bits from rugby, soccer, and Gaelic football, sprinkled in some influence from the Aboriginal game Marn Grook, and voilà – Australian Rules Football was born. What started as a way to keep cricketers fit in the off-season, has become a multimillion-dollar industry where footy players are worshipped like demi-gods.
Sometimes though, it feels like I’m an outsider looking in, wondering how this whole sports culture exploded into what it is today. And nothing brings out our strange little quirks more than Aussie Rules football, especially during finals.
Grassroots footy is almost a religion in country communities. From farmers and builders to teachers and nurses, they all become warriors on the footy field, donning their team’s colours with pride. They run around an oval chasing a ball that isn’t ball-shaped, all for the glory of kicking it through two big sticks. It sounds ridiculous, right? But we bloody love it.
There are cheers and melees with nicknames like “Jizz” and “Shooter” yelled across the field while the little tackers look up to their dads and uncles, dreaming of the day they’ll be the ones scoring goals and taking screamers. The camaraderie is real, with bum pats, hair tousles, and back-slapping aplenty. There are sore and aging bodies, young and buff ones too, all coming together for something far more than just a game.
Footy in the country isn’t just about winning premiership flags. It’s a bunch of locals from all walks of life, thrown together for the love of a game while providing a sense of belonging and community. It’s about nailing a speccy, and sometimes kicking scrubbers, all while trying not to pull a hammy. Each week, bruised and battered bodies leave the field, the winners belting out their victory song like they’ve just conquered the world. It can be fierce competition as teams vie to win the ultimate gong. It’s guts and glory, it’s mateship, and fun, it’s beer and banter after the game plus a bit of limping around until next Saturday.
For almost six months of the year, footy is the heart and soul for a fair chunk of regional South Australia. And for our littlest budding sports stars, it builds confidence, teaches teamwork, and forges friendships that can last a lifetime.
So here’s to another season of footy finals – where the stakes are high, the socks are higher, and the bum pats are weird to watch.
