As expected, Peter Wright copped four weeks for his bump on Sydney’s Harry Cunningham, Wayne Carey’s self-imposed exile from watching football commenced and the sun came up. The dogs bark, the landscape changes, the standards shift and those with half a brain adjust accordingly.
That’s not to say men like Carey, Jonathan Brown and Leigh Matthews don’t have valuable insights to offer when it comes to these incidents. They were Teddy Roosevelt’s proverbial “men in the arena”, while we who merely opine on the game are “those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat”. They know better than anyone about split seconds, and about the tissue thin difference between the perfect mark and an act of thuggery. The lawyers, the administrators, the tweeters, the biomechanists and the journalists – we will never fully know what it’s like. They were there, and they deserve to be listened to.
Carey said the AFL was “weak as piss” to send Wright’s case to the tribunal, and that the player “turned his body to protect himself. If he doesn’t turn his body, they’re both hurt. This is what our game’s about. You’re allowed to attack the footy like he did”.
Indeed, this incident throws up some very reasonable discussions about duty of care, about who owns space on the football field, about whether a player running back with the flight is culpable, and whether we should send the perpetrator to the sin bin.
Jimmy Webster’s hit on Jy Simpkin was far more black and white. There were few St Kilda supporters (apart from a few members of his family, strangely) who were willing to die on the vulpine-looking Saint’s hill. It was a textbook example of what you can’t and shouldn’t do on a football field.
There’s much more grey with Wright’s bump. But ultimately, he arrived at the contest after Cunningham, he took his eyes off the ball, he braced, he bumped, and he concussed his opponent. He didn’t fulfil his duty of care. Essendon’s lawyer commended his client for “being part of the cultural change that is happening and must happen within our sport”. And he is. He pleaded guilty. No one thinks he’s a thug. No one disputes that he’s a ball player. But as the AFL’s lawyer said during the Webster hearing, a hit from a good character doesn’t land any softer than one from a bad character.
In recent months, we’ve seen Angus Brayshaw retire, we’ve had a Senate inquiry into concussion and we’ve had a heart-wrenching coroner’s report into the death of Shane Tuck. Last weekend, the Herald Sun published an interview with former Footscray footballer Nigel Kellett which was without question the most confronting piece I’ve read on the issue. As a football fan, there was almost a sense of shame reading it. From the neutral tones of a coroner’s report to the tortured recollections of Kellett, that’s how high the stakes are with this issue. That’s what anyone who traffics in “whataboutism” and bemoans a game gone soft should always factor in. Men like Carey are paid to talk about a game that was kind to them. They were lucky. Carey, in particular, should thank his lucky stars he was paid to comment about the game in a broadsheet column and on television every week.
Crucially, there’s also been a marked shift in how the AFL prosecutes these incidents. Everyone who commentates, podcasts and writes about the sport should be up to speed with the changes. The tribunal is no longer bound by the decisions of previous years. And it takes into account “evolving community standards” on forceful and avoidable head-high contact. The penalties are far more severe. There is no way Wright would have been suspended for that incident two years ago. Indeed, his four-week penalty is the same that Tom Stewart received for his savage hit on Dion Prestia in 2022.
There’s even been a shift in how these incidents are handled by the broadcasters. In the off season, senior AFL figures met the commentators from Fox Footy and Channel 7, explaining the shift, showing examples, perhaps imploring them not to say something stupid whenever an incident occurs. There’s at least half a dozen people working at the AFL to educate players and the public about concussion and many more at an executive level who know it’s the most important issue facing the game.
Carey’s rant aside, what’s been telling about this incident is the almost universal acceptance of the decision. In the past, bumps like that were encouraged. They were celebrated. They were often premeditated. They were rarely punished. In the 1970s and 80s, they even came with their own soundtrack. But the football world changes, one unconscious player at a time. Carey can have his spell. The rest of us can enjoy a sport that’s never been tougher and never been safer.
