To marquee or not to marquee? That is the question for A-Leagues operators the Australian Professional Leagues. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and Covid chaos, or to take arms against a sea of troubles?
A key pillar in the league’s short-term strategy to emerge from its horror 2021-22 campaign was unveiled mid-week, as APL managing director Danny Townsend revealed that a list of 35 potential “world-class” signings had been earmarked by the league as potential “sugar hits” for what is hoped will be a reinvigorating 2022-23.
It all sounds like something from a Hollywood film, Townsend sitting down with clubs and putting together a team to save the (A-Leagues) world. Yet surveying the landscape, it is easy to see why the immediate bounce which would come with this strategy is being pursued. Battling waning interest and emotional investment even before being buffeted by Covid headwinds that ripped their best-laid plans to pieces, none of the A-Leagues 12 men’s teams averaged more than 10,000 attendees this season and television ratings and fan interest have waned to dangerously low levels. What better way to drum up immediate curiosity than borrowing someone else’s fame?
Per its executive, the APL will work with clubs this off-season to determine positions of need in their men’s or women’s teams before supporting them in signing a figure who both addresses this need and brings that sweet nectar of mainstream notoriety. These individuals would be recruited with both an understanding and contractual requirement that not only would they be providing their on-field talents, but also serving in an ambassadorial role – avoiding previous circumstances wherein marquee signings have been reluctant to do any media, which somewhat defeats the point.
Now, with all this talk of sugar, the appeal of diving into the impending free-agent list on Transfermarkt and devolving into a sokkah version of Veruca Salt is a powerful one. “I want a Gareth Bale, Danny,” clubs may cry. “And I want a Cesc Fàbregas, and a Zlatan Ibrahimović.” And any such arrivals would be a positive, anything that would boost the league’s reputation right now would be.
But Australian football has had a long and not always fruitful relationship with the marquee signing, the global superstar brought to these shores in an attempt to bathe the local game in the reflected glow of an already-established reputation and celebrity. At its core, they effectively boil down to endorsement deals, only instead of taking cash to spruik the benefits of petro-states with dubious human rights records or non-fungible tokens, the player in question is providing their endorsement of a footballing club and the league in which it plays.
This inevitably carries some level of sacrifice on the part of the signing beyond a standard relocation; acknowledgement that they are now not so much a footballer who resides on the game’s biggest stage and more a brand deployed on rescue missions to its fringes. Some simply are not ready to do this, and others demand a significant premium for doing so.
On occasion, it works great. Alessandro Del Piero at Sydney FC, Shinjo Ono at Western Sydney and Emile Heskey at Newcastle coincided with the A-League’s (unironic) peak. Crowds swelled and the mainstream couldn’t get enough. But these tenures ultimately did little to arrest the alarming backsliding in the years that followed after the rush from their presence wore off. The crescendo in the league’s active support and high point in technical and tactical approaches from teams that underpinned the Del Piero epoch was not fostered by the then Football Federation Australia. The governing body quandered a golden opportunity for the league to stand on its own feet.
Now, Townsend insists the foundations now exist in the A-Leagues to allow the competition to capitalise on the sugar rush to come. And the APL is free to spend its money however it likes. It spent years telling the public it had the means and wherewithal to invest and invest well. Caveat emptor. New or old fans will enjoy bright lights, no doubt, and some will likely stick around. That’s good.
But inevitably, the dwindling number of rusted-ons will at some point want more. And this is where the questions come in. Is the APL, in what would be a break with local tradition, capable of following through on a long-term strategy that would grow the game and allow the league to stand on its own two feet? Is there recognition of what fundamentally underpins the product (that’s the football bit) and how everything, ultimately, flows from that? For all the talk of data lakes and prevailing commercial eco-spaces, how will the emotional, irrational connection that underpins fans and their teams be fostered? Is the broadcaster at some point going to stop alienating fans trying to pay for and watch the product?
These, among other topics, are the A-Leagues’ vegetables. It’s free to have all the sugar it wants and in the short term, will enjoy and probably benefit from the rush. At some point, it will have to eat its greens so it can grow up to be big and strong.
