For many people, footy is more than just the game – the code occupies the psychic space in our minds that enables us to process other things that go on in our lives.
From the birth of children, to marriage breakdowns, demanding work lives and death, all of the crazy-hectic madness that goes on throughout the course of a season is processed through the filter of footy.
Footscray (Western Bulldogs) coach Terry Wheeler captured the wider influence of the game best when he addressed a crowd of 12,000 at Whitten Oval in 1989, with the Dogs on the verge of oblivion. Wheeler needed to connect with and unite an angry and upset crowd. He said, “I don’t think we own anything, I think we just hold it in trust for our children.”
The passing of long-serving AFL administrator and passionate advocate against vilification and racism in the game, Tony Peek, on Monday, shortly after the fantastic AFL grand final, made those words spoken by Wheeler ring louder. Peek understood the game not as a statistically-based contest to determine a winner, but as an inherent social institution, and a potential force for greater good.
For Peek, Aussie Rules was about relationships. Clubs and the people in them become an extension of one’s family, where respect, sacrifice, and love become the most important human exchanges. This feeds the memory and the soul and it is for this reason the passing of Peek marks a sad but poignant reminder that football is a great teacher and through its lessons – some bitterly difficult and others sweetly edifying – we, as a nation, become a better team.
Peek saw many things come and go in the AFL, the change of the game from a suburban-based Victorian enclave to a national juggernaut. He witnessed Fitzroy make way for Port Adelaide. He saw numerous other ructions where clubs stared into the abyss as their members prayed for a miracle, furiously penning letters to the AFL, condemning it for allowing this to happen. In many cases it was the clubs that found it hard to adapt as they clung to the vestiges of old processes and behaviours.
Peek bore witness to it all, from his first role as a media manager in 1989, to senior executive and assistant to CEO Gillon McLachlan. He was quoted as saying: “I never regarded the role as a job.”
Peek’s insight and gravitas allowed him to navigate through hardship while setting a course for a brighter day – one that views the AFL as more than just a sporting juggernaut, as a social institution that involves Australians from all walks of life, racial, ethnic, sexual and religious orientations, including something that was virtually unthinkable five years ago, the AFLW.
By Peek’s own account, the outcome that gave him the greatest personal and professional satisfaction was the introduction and implementation in 1995 of Rule 30 (now Rule 35): the anti-vilification code.
Before its introduction players could say whatever came into their head in order to get the psychological edge over an opponent. It was a legitimate tactic to break the opposition down.
When Essendon’s Michael Long was vilified by Collingwood ruck Damian Monkhorst, a watershed moment presented itself in Australian sport, but also society more broadly.
What was at stake was not just the brutal slight on Long and that of his family borne from the stain of history, but more significantly it paved the way for an entire generation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander footballers going into the future.
How many players had the code lost to vilification? No one knows. The game had to grow up. It was not just enough to say you were professional, you actually had to live it, breathe it, own it. Peek’s task, at the behest, of Ross Oakley was to consult with all current Indigenous and multicultural players about the issue of on-field abuse.
What he heard shocked him into action. The Rule 30 policy was drawn up and education became the cornerstone of it.
A recent report based on 370 players surveyed and 99 interviewed showed player-to-player vilification had been eradicated – and that is a wonderful testament to Peek’s vision, but more importantly his humanity.
For Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander players Peek’s legacy is immense.
For Michael Long’s teammate and brother in arms Che Cockatoo-Collins – who was standing right next to Long and Monkhorst when the infamous exchange was made in 1995 – Peek’s contribution was critical.
“Simply, without Tony’s intervention, Rule 30 in all likelihood would not have happened,” Cockatoo-Collins says.
“It was too important to simply have it go on the back burner. His legacy is his longevity. His corporate knowledge is massive. His values were great and the AFL and all who watch it have been the beneficiaries.
“If I had an issue, Longy would always say ‘just ring Peeky’. He would get it done. He was discrete and confidential. He was an introvert. Weirdly, we had very little in common, but he was just one of those people. Magic McLean loves Peeky, we all do.”
An avid baseball fan, Peek was also a huge Swans man having previously aligned himself with Hawthorn. But his refusal to see Sydney and the northern rugby states as strongholds for just two codes, union and league, meant that, again, he needed to locate himself behind a team that was going places, having fought tooth and nail to survive in a hostile market.
One of Sydney’s favourite sons, the hardworking forward from Adelaide, Michael O’Loughlin remembers Peek fondly.
“He was a man 30 years in the AFL and privy to some of the biggest decisions in it,” O’Loughlin says. “He played an integral part – the one closest to me was the vilification rule – without his understanding and integrity we would have waited a lot longer than we did.
“He looked at the future and said it was the right thing to do. He had foresight to say, ‘this is the right thing’. It was not about Tony but others. People, the code, he had the understanding and boundless humanity towards making Australia a better place.
“He was my friend, we had countless texts and calls – just to talk to him was great as his knowledge was second to none. He loved the Bloods, and the Bloods ran in his veins”.
Perhaps the last word on Peek should go to Adam Goodes. The trials that Goodes experienced don’t need any further exploration, lest that ignorance be given further air time, except to say that his status in the game is unquestioned and that he, perhaps more than anyone, knows what the hot relentless sting of prejudice feels like.
“Tony made the game what it is today,” Goodes says. “His legacy is bedded deep in Rule 30. He gives it life. He was a visionary when the AFL was blinkered. He knew what people wanted and what clubs needed. He made it easier for the game to get to the next level.”
Goodes reflects on a man who he considers a friend.
“He was one of the most genuine men I have met. Honesty and respect were his code. He always made himself available to talk. He was the best listener. My most fond memory was when I played my 100th AFL game. Sydney were playing Port in Adelaide in my home town. He made available 110 tickets for my family simply so they would not have to pay. I will never forget that for as long as I live.”
It is through these solid character assessments from men of standing in the AFL that Peek will be remembered. After the final siren sounds and the roar from the crowd gives way to silence, his intangible presence will endure in a game that has become better through his actions.
Sean Gorman writes on behalf of the Indigenous Players Alliance.
