Why AFL?
They say it takes a village to raise a child. Growing up in India, this proverb rang especially true, surrounded as we were by a bustling, extended family, a constant cocoon of support and community. But for many Indians who find themselves in Australia, with young kids in tow, this support system seems like a distant memory. The transition can be challenging, navigating a new country without the familiar network of aunts, uncles, and grandparents at every turn.
In my view, which I’ve come to hold after almost two decades in Australia, the best way to integrate into this diverse society is through the universal language of sport. Sports, in my opinion, teaches invaluable lessons: teamwork, non-verbal communication, and confidence.
Enter AFL, Australia’s #1 sport, a cultural tapestry in itself. It’s not just a game; it’s a conduit for understanding and embracing the multifaceted Australian society. For first-generation Indian-Australian immigrants, like myself, navigating the new social norms and unspoken rules can feel like tiptoeing through a minefield of interpersonal dynamics. Australia is a beautifully complex and layered society, and even after two decades, I find myself continually learning and adapting.
However, I firmly believe that any child who grows up with AFL as a part of their life gains a significant advantage. This sport is more than just kicking a ball; it’s about building a sense of belonging in a diverse society.
Year — 2022, Location — rugby oval, activity — post match pickup
There’s something about picking up your child after a sports match that turns every parent into an impromptu commentator. This was certainly the case for me after one of my son’s rugby matches. As I waited for him, I couldn’t help but notice the towering stature of the islander kids on the opposing team.
Leaning against my car, I tried to infuse a bit of humor into my observation, “Geez, son, these guys can kill you,”
My son, unfazed and with a matter-of-fact tone that only teenagers can master, replied, “Well, they can try.” His response was delivered with such casual confidence that I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. After over 100 games of AFL up until Under 19s, my son had decided to dabble in rugby for a year. And it seemed that the courage and resilience he’d honed on the footy field were serving him well in this new, more physically daunting arena.
Years — 2014–19, Location — Junior Footy Club, activity —junior footy
Greg, the coach from local Football Club, was my son’s coach during almost all his junior footy years; he was a mentor, a motivator, and occasionally, a comedian. His passionate yells of “Kick it like Buckley!” (a nod to his unwavering support for Collingwood) or the classic “My grandmother can run faster than you!” still echo in my memories. Under Greg’s guidance, AFL training was an exercise in endurance: run 3–4 km, run some more, and then, when you think you can’t run anymore, do a suicide drill. “We are trained to run forever,” my son once told me, a hint of pride and exhaustion in his voice.
One day, Greg made a special trip to our house to present my son with the ‘Most Improved Player’ award, my son found a unique support system in Greg.
Three incidents with Greg particularly stand out in my mind:
Incident #1: I vividly recall Greg rallying a group of 13–14 year old in the midst of a typical Melbourne winter storm. I don’t remember his exact words, but the way he charged up those shivering teenagers into action was nothing short of impressive.
Incident #2: Then there was the incident that seems to gain a new layer every time my son recounts it, so please read it with a pinch of salt. During most matches, I found myself making social calls, walking around the oval, only occasionally glancing at the game. One day, to my surprise, I saw my son get into a confrontation. The oval erupted; parents from the opposing team started yelling, pointing to the scoreboard. It was slightly awkward. After the match, I confronted my son, who showed me a distinct foot impression on his stomach — a kick he’d received while going for the ball. I texted the team manager, expressing we dont encourage such behavior but offering to talk to my son. The response was swift: “Greg said he will handle it.”
Greg told my son three things —
- Never to do it again
- This is a contact sport, sometimes you may hit or get hit while going for the ball but whatever happens stays on the field. The moment you step out it is over
- And lastly, in a hushed voice, next time if someone hits you then do it when referee is not looking and use your elbow as if going for a tackle.
Anyways i forgot to ask my son at that time if that kid’s name was Toby Greene
Incident #3: The club home ground was a large outdoor reserve with two ovals and the club room, where footy training sessions were religiously held twice a week from 5:30 to 7:30 pm. One evening, however, unfolded a parent’s worst nightmare. For reasons that now escape me, we had to pick up our son an hour early at 6:30 pm. I got busy and this slipped my mind, and I only remembered as the clock struck 7. Rushing back to the ground, my heart pounded with a mix of worry and guilt. When I arrived, the ground was enveloped in pitch darkness and mine was the only car there.
As I pulled into the parking lot, a faint silhouette caught my eye. There, standing behind one of the pillars, was my son, waiting. Relief washed over me like a warm wave.
Just as my son got into the car, the headlights of a big Ford truck flickered on. It was Greg, he was watching over my son ensuring his safety until we arrived.
Tragically, during the COVID lockdowns of 2020–21, we lost Greg.
Thank you for everything Greg!!! R.I.P
