“Toothless” and “feral” are the two most common reactions I get when I disclose my support for the Collingwood Football Club. Coaches and players come and go, but perceptions – largely set by supporters – endure for generations. What defines a club’s identity are not the names who run on the field, nor the annual marketing slogans designed to entice membership sales. It is the qualities that supporters believe bind them into a single tribe.
“When you start supporting a football club, you don’t support it because of the trophies, or a player, or history, you support it because you found yourself somewhere there; found a place where you belong,” said the Dutch football great Dennis Bergkamp.
Australian rules football exists in parallel orbits – the sport itself, dissected and analysed in a cacophonic weekly media cycle, and the fans, indulging in tribal rivalries, banter and occasional brawls fuelled by perceptions that are at times adrift from the very institutions they claim to represent.
So it is the case with Collingwood. The ubiquitous loathing of the Magpies, rooted in century-old tropes of the working class, persists despite neither the club nor its suburb today reflecting their humble origins. The club is among the richest in the league and the suburb’s current affluence masks its slum beginnings.
The lone thread that ties the present to Collingwood’s history – club and suburb – is its supporters, and indeed opposition supporters, who together perpetuate a romantic (or despised) version of early 20th-century Collingwood and maintain it with stubborn fervour.
Collingwood supporters wholeheartedly embrace the vantage point of the downtrodden, the detested masses competing against elitist privilege that repeatedly denies them success. It’s why we boo so much – behind every umpiring decision/non-decision against Collingwood is some high-level, Carlton-engineered AFL conspiracy.
When Brayden Maynard faced the tribunal hearing of the century over his unfortunate collision with Angus Brayshaw, memes circulated on Collingwood fan pages of historic suspensions spanning more than 20 years of star Collingwood players in finals series.
For much of the club’s recent history, it sought to weaponise the Magpie Army’s persisting self-image as the aggrieved underdog into an effective “us against them” marketing ploy. But the winds today are blowing in a different direction at Collingwood. The club is not merely in earnest pursuit of on-field success, it is undergoing a transformation that is reimagining Collingwood’s vision of itself.
Since the landmark Do Better report in 2020 found systemic racism at the club, Collingwood has worked assiduously to reshape its internal culture – as a playing group and a workplace – to become inclusive. It launched its own truth-telling process with former Indigenous players, increased diverse representation among its staff and playing group and has instilled anti-racism messaging in its core values.
Those correlated values – of inclusion, positivity and enjoyment – have found their way into the playing group, are championed by their coach and are evident in the team’s playing style. A residual effect too has been the conversations spurred among supporters. It was roughly a year ago I connected with the club and proposed reviving an LGBTQ+ supporter group, Collingwood Pride. A key motivator was to help the club solidify its commitment to inclusion and bridge the parallel orbits.
A fascinating, and intended, learning experience from the year has been the clear power of visibility. Through an online presence, Collingwood Pride has built an inclusive community of supporters diverse in gender, sexual orientation and race – bound by their shared passion for the team. It has also prompted conversations between critics and supporters of inclusion, and allowed for pushback against prejudice from within the fanbase.
A recent Instagram reel posted by Collingwood Pride and other LGBTQ+ supporter groups showed Darcy Moore and Jack Ginnivan embraced in arms (Ginnivan was supporting Moore who had just injured his hamstring). The reel highlighted a barrage of homophobic comments on social media ridiculing the two players. More significant, however, was the overwhelming support we received from Collingwood supporters.
Actual inclusion in footy, where players and supporters can be true to themselves while being passionate about the sport, remains a steep climb. A study in 2021 found that 60% of LGBTQ+ respondents who had attended AFL games witnessed homophobia or transphobia. And Indigenous stars still endure racist abuse.
But things have shifted at Collingwood. The Do Better report served as a seismic pang that has thrust the club on a journey that may not only net it a 16th flag, but shed the “feral” from its midst.
