AFL / John Harms / 06 May 2010 / Leave a comment Bet Now

John Harms goes to the heart of what truly drives our sports men and women....

Every Saturday, around lunchtime, I do a spot on ABC Grandstand's South Australian edition. It's a lot of fun.

Roger Wills holds the show together in the way that only Roger can. He has a unique mind. It reminds me of one of those rooms in a rambling old country dwelling; one that is full of stuff gathered over the century-long life of the house. Nothing can be thrown out. And there are so many treasures, Rog has to tell you about them excitedly and somewhat eccentrically.

Rod Jamieon, the Crows premiership player, is also behind the mic. He offers the voice of footy reason and gives an insider's view. Before the start of the season, he warned us (none-too-subtly) that the Crows already had a lot of injuries and sore bodies, and that Crows' fans shouldn't expect too much.

Sage.

At the next mic is Walshy of the loud shirt. There are a number of certainties in life: death, taxes and that Peter Walsh will flirt shamelessly with any woman he's interviewing (but will reserve his best work for basketballers, hockey players and emerging athletes).

Usually we talk country and suburban footy. Last Saturday, I mentioned that the people of Kangaroo Island weren't happy because, instead of returning to the struggling Wisanger club, retired Port Adelaide stalwart Brendon Lade has taken up a position as an assistant coach at the Richmond Football Club.

Clearly he has more regard for the friendship he shares with Damian Hardwick than he has for his CV.

I also mentioned on Saturday that there is a solid racing culture on Kangaroo Island and that recently one of the island's best horses produced some great Adelaide form. After his horse won four in a row, the KI trainer decided he'd give him a swim off the beach, just like Bart used to do at Glenelg. However, this emerging champion thoroughbred decided that swimming parallel to the beach was not for him. He preferred the right-angle and took off at 90 degrees to the shore-line and headed for the Fleurieu Peninsula.

The nag swam forever, but thankfully turned around eventually and swam back.

It is heavy-hitting stuff we deal with.

But last Saturday, Walshy was about to call his 1000th game - and he will show you the scrap books, page-by-page ("and that was when I called the Redan versus Sunbury Thirds. Geez it was windy that day"). Given the time-span of this illustrious career (although Roger goes back even further: he remembers when Christ played second rover in the Judean rep side), our minds turned to footy philosophy.

St Kilda and the Western Bulldogs had just played one of the most ridiculous games of footy of all time, where the ball was chipped across the back of the zone like they were the German World Cup side. Usually, that was across the centre because the zones were setting up in the back half.

Lindsay Gilbee had so many possessions that he racked up 167 Dream-Team points.

This led to the important philosophical question: is Dream-Team becoming the raison d'etre for the existence of football?

Roger couldn't comment because Deb the producer was whispering quietly in his ear, explaining what 'Dream-Team' was. It was a long explanation which started with the producer explaining what a computer was, and I'm told at one point she was pointing to the socket in the wall, and even then at the light bulb swinging above.

I was losing it on the phone from my Canberra backyard, saying that football played in that way was compromising one of the reasons the game appeals to us at the deepest of levels.

In doing so I said, "When the game is played like that, the agonistic element disappears."

I heard Walshy splutter: "I had one of those once but the wheels fell off."

I think I should explain.

You have to look at why footy has such broad and deep appeal. Yes, there is the hope that your side will win the cup, and so it becomes a quest for the holy grail. Yes, there is the sense that a footy club is a community to which we belong (and that we belong to the football community broadly as well), or feel we belong. Yes, there is the sense that action (and skill) is desirable: that we continue to live and fight in the face of the human condition.

But it is a physical contest, and human beings have been involving themselves in contests - physical and verbal - since Adam was in the draft.

When the siren goes, the footy is bounced, and blokes battle with each other for the sack of air that is a Sherrin, they tap into a deep human reality: the agon. This is an ancient Greek term which refers to 'the contest'. It has two dimensions to it: the contest with the opponent, and the contest with the self.

It happens in war, in games, in drama (think protagonist and antagonist), in any pursuit which involves struggle.

People have felt the agon forever.

It is about finding the physical and mental courage to act, to overcome fear, and to face the opponent. From it we get the word agony and agonise. Certainly players would know about the physical agony, and also the mental anguish regarding the ability to find the strength and courage from within.

Even writers feel the agon. And kids doing homework. The easy way is not to act, not to write. But you have to write to produce the piece of writing. And so you agonise, and if you win your own struggle, you write, and you hope you write well, so there is joy in the final piece and in people's reading of it.

Steve Renouf and I talked for a long time about the mind and soul of a rugby league player, when we were working together on his biography. He didn't know the term agon but he experienced it every week.

He said players prepared all week for the game, and in the hours leading up to it, got themselves into the state that allowed them to enter the battle. They knew the physical dangers; they knew the risks; they knew the rewards. They also knew that this personal test would be observed and scrutinised - sometimes lauded, sometimes condemned. He said that players in those moments had fear, but not in the sense of cowardice; fear in the sense of respect for what could happen.

Wayne Bennett understood it. After his penultimate words, Bennett would ask the players to be silent and think and reflect for a couple of minutes. Steve described it as being 'like a moment of prayer'.

Steve also was adamant that the camaraderie among team-mates and opponents after a game was, for many of the players, profound. Because they had come through the test together, and even though there was the victor and the vanquished, both embraced in acknowledgement of the effort and deliverance after the final siren.

The agon is a key to the footy codes.

It is one of the reasons we love them.

This is a contemporary expression of something that humanity has experienced forever.

And this is why there has to be limited interchange in AFL footy.

Unlimited interchange means, as I keep banging on about, players can defend space. Only when they are tired do they need to find their opponents and stand shoulder-to-shoulder. Only then will the game fall into the structure of positions that has characterised the game. Only then will we see magnificent personal duels, and battles between teams.

Only then will we see the delicious combination of one-on-one battles and teamwork.

Only then will we see a better expression of the agon.