Not Bad, Boys?

Reviewed by Phillip Dimitriadis

Roy Masters, Bad Boys: AFL, Rugby League, Rugby Union and Soccer, Random House. ISBN: 9781741661019 RRP: $34.95

Roy Masters has attempted to analyse the allure of the anti-hero in his book titled: Bad Boys. The sub-title claims to include players from all four codes of football in Australia but his main focus is on Rugby League players with a sprinkling of anecdotes taken from Rugby Union and AFL and barely more than a few tokenistic references to soccer. This is a problematic book because it promises to reveal why a number of league footballers and the media celebrate the notion that players are more interesting when they are not clean-cut and wholesome role models. Masters uses a number of Shakespearean references to drive home the point that human nature, in football and in life, is not as black and white as some would like. While this shows that he has read some classical literature it also comes across as somewhat trite and disingenuous. In one breath he bemoans the fact that footballers are largely uneducated and in the other he seems to almost enjoy the brutality of winning and laughs along with the cultural practice of players sharing ‘buns’, in other words, a group of players having sexual intercourse with a woman at the same time or taking it in turns. These examples make Bad Boys disconcerting and detract from some excellent insights in coaching and broader psychological warfare between the clubs, players and the media. In one instance he argue

So why do ‘the boys love a bun’?

The Sociologists say it is part of the bonding process – and they are right. Plus, players don’t have to talk to the girl afterwards. Group sex, provided the player and the woman are alone during the congress – the others being in an adjoining room – also disguises the sexually inadequate. Even if he is revealed as a ‘soft cock’ or a premature ejaculator or a ‘little dick’, much merriment is made and it is subsumed into the team, or club, ethos. (p.99)

One wonders if Masters would be so flippant if his daughter was ‘the bun’ that provided such ‘merriment’. And who exactly are the Sociologists that he refers to? Some names would have been useful in case some readers would like to research the idea further. It is one thing to detail the cultural ‘tastes’ of players but the air of collusion in Masters’ rhetoric lacks any sense of critical objectivity. It is similar when he extols the virtue of violence both on and off the field, reasoning that the ability to withstand and inflict pain makes these football heroes objects of worship. Quoting Shakespeare does not make Masters look erudite; in fact his choices validate his and Shakespeare’s fascination with bloodlust as part of the heroes lot. In the chapter titled ‘Bad Boys and Brawls’, He argues:

Football coaches can be very hypocritical about violence. They draw an almost Jesuitical distinction between physical play (good, they say) and dirty play (not good, but not us either). There’s a thin line between playing very aggressively and playing foul, and most want their players to toe right up to that line. (p.194)

Masters is trying hard to remain objective but the fact that he also coached in the 1970s and 80s, an era where brawling was more prevalent in AFL and Rugby League, gives away his somewhat nostalgic penchant for times when fighting was not only tolerated, but celebrated. This becomes clear when he makes one of his few comments about Australia’s 2006 Soccer World Cup qualification, where he criticizes ‘diving’ through the myopic eyes of a Rugby League aficionado. He argues:

While delighted with Australia’s victory, most agreed they had not seen so many faked injuries since the Vietnam War draft. Soccer’s bandwagon was overflowing with Australian supporters during the national teams spirited display in the 2006 World Cup in Germany, but many jumped off, disgusted by an Italian player taking a dive in the final minute of play, earning a penalty that led to the 1-0 loss. (p.213)

Masters’ ignorance of the world game is palpable here because he fails to recognize that in some cultures the art of staging for a free kick is celebrated in the same way that some applaud a Rugby League or AFL player for using a bruising tackle to disposes an opponent of the ball. AFL players throw their arms out appealing to the umpire for cheap free kicks in virtually every game but this is not an area he chooses to comment on and this makes his views on the issue further redundant and uneducated. He also makes the outlandish and incorrect statement that ‘diving’ has turned many away from soccer which does not coincide with the recent success of the A-League, whose weekly crowd attendances attest to the fact that the game is growing across Australia at a rate that would be to the chagrin of Masters and his sympathizers.

Bad Boys had the chance to become a powerful piece of critical sports literature, but lost the game to the rhetoric of heightened nostalgia that becomes deified through the prism, which preserves the conservative archetypal mythology of the ‘manly’ Australian sporting narrative. While there are some interesting discussions and observations about the intrusion of the media and professionalism, there is little detailed analysis about why the ‘Bad Boys’ of the Australian football codes make for compelling reading or further research other than to equate them with carefully placed quotes from Shakespeare. This tool of association may also resonate with older readers, but the Bard may have become hackneyed to the new generation of male and female football fans who may want to know more about what drives these men to do the things they do and what real justification they have for their actions.

Phillip Dimitriadis tends to see the world in black and white. He's a passionate Collingwood supporter and a long-suffering follower of Newcastle United. He is currently enrolled in a PhD at Victoria University researching the literature of Australian Rules football.

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