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In all honesty I can’t see the day when there will ever be a female AFL coach.
Not that any of the other codes are different. Association football has the balding or salt-and-pepper, red-faced, animated males who look like they are about to explode on the sidelines from stress. Rugby coaches are all ex-players.
Even in a mixed sport like tennis, the majority of coaches are male. Hello there, Rafa’s Uncle Tony! You don’t see Federer’s coach having a fit on camera.
AFL is exactly the same as the other football codes. All male coaches, except perhaps for the rare female hidden the the back of the box, probably thinking up a better game plan while tapping her short acrylic french nails on the match-up magnetic board.
There are some female trainers and physios, and that’s about it.
The thought is pretty sad.
As a person who believes females have the ability to match males in any career, I still cannot see any side in the AFL employing a female senior coach.
I could see myself being a great coach, and those who know really know me would agree. I can match the mentality of an AFL coach. I hate losing… No, when I’m in charge or in control of an outcome I refuse to lose. I can be just as mean, cunning, and nasty, as sweet and kind.
On the other hand I’m also just as ready to get the boys over a loss by working at weaknesses and flaws, to ensure a cleaner performance for the following week. In this sense I’m a stickler for perfection.
Strategy-wise i know when a change needs to be made before things get worse (like yelling at Mick to make a switch on the Reid-Hawkins match-up four minutes into the third quarter in the last grand final). More importantly, I’d try picking players who are not bloody injured in the first place.
There is also something about female instinct that comes in handy when picking good players. My uncle pointed out that most of the players I claim to find attractive when they first arrive at clubs are the ones who become the flashy players later on: Scott Pendlebury, Bryce Gibbs, Joel Selwood, Andrew Swallow, Dustin Martin, Trent Cotchin, Angus Monfries, Nathan Brown, Lance Franklin.
Something about the female eye sees that prettiness might lead to confidence, and confidence is the trait of great players. Recruiting with this in mind certainly wouldn’t hurt the membership numbers and attendance from women, either.
Picture this. A coach who eats Maxibons and drinks iced tea in the box, instead of lollies and Powerade.
A female coach who dresses with flair instead of the manly clothes they layer onto female commentators.
A nice pair of black stiletto pumps strutting down to meet the players in the huddle, the stern female death stare through Gucci black-framed glasses, the ‘I’m anxious’ hair ruffle in the glass reflection of the box, the ‘Not happy, umpire’ pout and most importantly the ‘Come here, sonny’ finger wave topped off with bubblegum-pink nail-polish.
Qualities that only I can bring to the table as a coach of an AFL team. So what’s not to like Mr Demetriou?
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