‘Ltd’ is the key term in Linnell’s history of the administration of the VFL and AFL over roughly 25 years, leading up to 1994. The book’s cover suggests an account of how business captured (and ruined) the game but Linnell instead shows how football could abandon businesses and businessmen just as much as its players. Each chapter illustrates how the transition from the VFL to the AFL, from the financial and administrative mess of the post-war era to early professionalism, was a three-cornered contest: club administrators limited by their parochialism, business figures blinded by their desire for social capital and their lack of appreciation that football wasn’t just another business, and the VFL/AFL commission whose aim of uniting the clubs for the sake of the game’s continued existence was limited by the aforementioned shortcomings of club administrators and business figures.
There’s a loose chronological order to the material but the chapters are organized more by topic: for example, beer sponsorship, important administrative battles, television rights, the MCG vs Waverly, the Players’ Association. Brisbane and Sydney are given two chapters each, WA and SA one each. The chapters on the Broadcom/ABC television deal, the beer sponsorship debacle, and the end of Jack Hamilton’s career are highlights.
Though there’s ample opportunity, the story never gets bogged down in legal, financial, and administrative detail. Linnell glosses on these matters but leaves the reader feeling that they have as much as they need to know of these matters to service the story of human failings that he wants to tell. Instead, Linnell sticks to a sympathetic – though not uncritical – portrayal of those who worked off the field to secure The Flag. Linnell’s prose is direct and economical and manages to present all aspects of his story well, from boardroom drama, to farce, to tragedy. If you’ve enjoyed Martin Flanagan’s writing about football, there’s a very good chance that Football Ltd. will also appeal.
The book’s style only partly explains its value. I had barely reached adulthood by 1994. I grew up understanding the transition from VFL to AFL as a battle between (authentic) tradition and (evil) modernisation. Football Ltd. has made me much more sympathetic to the League Commission and less sympathetic to the old story. Unfortunately, the book’s index is not as helpful as it looks (why is there no entry for 1985’s ‘Blue Report’?), and the photographs are surprisingly uncredited, but there is an interesting and appetite-whetting bibliography covering both secondary works covering aspects of VFL/AFL history, and ‘reports’, which principally lists official documents for and from the VFL/AFL Commission. The interviewees for each chapter are listed (some anonymously) over four pages, right after the end of the epilogue.
The professionalisation of sport tends to produce histories that emphasise the rugged individualism of the pre-professional era. In footy the standard narrative is of a time when men were hard, the hits were big, full-forwards regularly kicked a hundred goals a season, and the fashion was bad. Football Ltd. is a valuable and highly readable counterpoint to such histories: it doesn’t contradict the standard history, but it does make me wonder if heroic veneers are particularly good at hiding administrative shortcomings. A similar book covering the years 1995 to 2016 would be welcome, but while the League has become more professional (read ‘guarded’), wages and deals have become more lucrative, scandals more divisive and disruptive, and key figures face greater social and professional scrutiny, I’m not holding my breath. Meanwhile, I wonder if my skepticism isn’t just another view through nostalgic glasses.
Loved this book. As a newbie to Australia and the AFL this book filled in a lot of blanks as to how the league got to where it has. I have some dealings with the league, just trying to find out the process for a photographers pass, so have some experience of the complexity and machinations of the organisation. Enthralling...