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There’s this relaxed small town in the ‘deep north’ called Brisbane, a quaint little backwards place of two million people and you’ve probably never heard of it.
It likes its climate hot, its weather destructive, its government iron-fisted and it is rugby league mad. It may even be the new rugby league capital of Australia.
The Brisbane Broncos practically run this town unopposed, for you see Bris Vegans are a simple lot – they only identify with the city and the state of Queensland.
There are no deep underlying tribal divisions that would motivate people to support teams like in Sydney or Melbourne.
Even the Brisbane River, which cuts the 5,949 square kilometre city quite neatly into two, wouldn’t motivate people to split their sporting loyalties.
Yes you have your Ipswiches, your Logans, your Redlands and the like, but they’re pretty… meh.
People would never really identify with their local community or shire to much of an extent – that would be some kind of ‘anti-Brisbane’.
This is the opinion I have heard again and again and to the knowledge of my 24-year-old self, it is absolutely right.
But what if there was a time when the city that was smaller, tribal and had a large number of league teams, each with a well-defined identity, songs and colours?
Brisbane was once a city that buzzed with intra-city, community pride.
‘Anti-Brisbane’ actually existed, inside Brisbane itself… it was Brisception.
I implore you to watch this clip.
Have a look at the Facebook page, which has some amazing photos, and read these quotes:
Lionel Morgan, in 2001, on the support of the BRL in the Wynnum-Manly district
“Yeah well the crowd was great, they supported you wholeheartedly, they came along but it wasn’t only down here on the football field it was on the streets up there.
“People would come up and talk to you, they’d stop you in the street and get your autograph and have a talk to you and wish you all the best and really support you in what you were doing and lifting the club.
“There was four or five players here that were top-line footballers and we used to go up on the terrace and sell raffles in front of McCarthy’s Jewellers store on the terrace and we’d do an hour there and then pop down to the Manly Hotel and do an hour there and then we’d pop down to Fishers (pub) and do an hour there.
“The players were prepared to do it because they were getting the support from this area and they would give it back on the playing field and however they could meet the people on the streets.
“I don’t think anyone turned away from you, it was just one big happy family. We used to have like a barbecue after the game and there’d be 100 or 200 people that would turn up for the barbecue, we had it at various areas.”
Barry Muir, in 2001, on the decline of the BRL and the rise of the New South Wales Rugby League premiership
“Well that is a tragedy, to be honest with you. There’s no club identity at all now. If you don’t follow the Broncos well who do you follow? That means you’ve got to follow a New South Wales side.
“I think I’m sure that’s what [Ron] McAuliffe didn’t want to happen. But when they brought in the Queensland side into the NRL that was the end of the BRL, as far as that was concerned.
“It should never have happened because as it turned out, if we did lose players from Queensland to go to New South Wales we had the State of Origin.
“We’ve been winning the State of Origin, and you can imagine if we were keeping our players, the club competition would be just as good as what it was when I was playing.
“But that is a tragedy as far as I’m concerned is that the people miss that club identity.”
As a young man the BRL was merely a family tale, a fable told by my mum. It almost sounded like a myth or a legend. Physically seeing it in the above clip for me was quite a bizarre experience – “people did what here?”
My mum’s family is a proud rugby union family, but once upon a time had deep working class rugby league roots. Now my mum hates or is completely indifferent to the ‘soulless’ rugby league and Broncos of today.
I was raised following the Wallabies and the Reds at Ballymore. When I began playing rugby union there was only going to be one club – Easts Rugby Union – because she grew up following Easts Rugby League and it had a ‘family club’ vibe.
That’s rugby for you. It’s part sport and part the passing on of historic, genealogical lineages.
And like any good history I pieced it together (mostly from old sugar packets).
The BRL died for three reasons:
1. Poker machines and player drain
Yes young’uns, due to moral puritanism Queensland had no pokies but rather preferred a healthier, underground corrupt monopoly.
This created a strange time in sporting clubs of ‘community involvement’, which I believe was a term for an old wooden ship during the American Civil War era.
2. Gentrification
Just like North Sydney and Newtown, Brisbane saw a fundamental change in its character.
A population expansion, as a wealthy younger class wanted to live closer in to the city, resulted in increased house prices in Brisbane, driving formerly working class populations (no seriously, no joke they actually were) in West End, the Valley, New Farm and Paddington out and diluting the supporter base.
3. The glorious Brisbane Broncos created marvellous unity and saved all that traditional, tribal crap
To use an analogy, poker machines broke the eggs, gentrification scrambled them and the Broncs simply made a profitable omelette.
They saw the dilapidated heritage Queenslander and built a very successful McMansion. Then they gently crushed any rival omelettes in self-defence, because if they didn’t they would face a rival Crusher.
I also can’t help but think so many people don’t know about the BRL because the Broncs don’t want them to.
However, as I developed in ignorant bliss, I followed the Broncos like many with no preconceived notions and they fed off their ties with Queensland and the famous ‘Queensland spirit’.
But wait a minute, what the hell is that? What’s the Queensland spirit? Why am I yelling “QUEENSLANDER!” like I’m a viking off to pillage Northern France?
Does anyone know? I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!
Today you might more likely hear “because Queensland is the best, everyone wants to live here because of the awesome weather!”
Or simply, “Let’s go Broncos, yeah!”
This primordial scream came from a period of genuine angst and frustration in an undeveloped, community-oriented and very proud state; one that could not compete and was sick of seeing its sons go off south chasing the dollar, leading the local community comp to become increasingly irrelevant.
It’s at the heart of where all the goddamn parochialism comes from. A cashed-up southern state that genuinely laughed at and looked down upon its poor, rural, cowboy cousin (kinda like Eddie out of National Lampoon’s Vacation series).
One must ask, what has being a one-team town done for the game in Brisbane?
Sure, it seems the game has certainly made some headway outside if you look at the Queensland Cup and that’s great, but how league/Broncos mad is this town?
A town of two million mad leaguies with one team and a 50,000-plus capacity stadium, 30,000 full most games, good ratings, strong supporters – that’s pretty good right? Way better than those struggling Southerners aye?
Simple maths shows that many of the Sydney teams punch well above their weight for their population bases. Hell, maybe Southerners are actually more passionate?
But what of the ‘minority sports’?
The Queensland Reds’ 2011 Super Rugby premiership means they are beating the Broncs quite decisively, with numbers that would be unheard of.
The Brisbane Roar have a huge following, too, with great success. And even I followed them the Brisbane Lions when they were triple premiership kings. Now, aas they are plumbing the depths of the AFL, their crowds are still pretty amazing.
It seems when rugby league ripped the soul out of a city/comp/sport with the BRL and the Super League war, it gave everybody else a free kick and a chance to fight over the pieces of that soul.
When you exchange identity for an open market, you can’t be surprised when the population sells their support to the highest winner.
Now I apologise to many of you savvy Adam Smith, free marketeers out there for this Pinko crap – I like big bottom lines too, I cannot lie – but imagine what things could have been like with both money and identity intact?
Walking around Melbourne during a big match day, everyone decked out in their colours, the city abuzz with passion and tribalism, the game the very soul of the city – it is a great experience.
While I don’t like AFL the game, I love AFL the culture and I would often think,” wow, this is what it actually could have been back home”.
No wonder when my mum moved to Melbourne, she fell in love with the Melbourne Football Club and was swept away with the old fashioned, soulful culture.
Once you lose a thing like the authentic BRL, like the North Sydney Bears and Newtown, you don’t ever really get it back. You can’t unscramble an egg and people my age will never get to experience it.
But multiverse theory says in some alternate dimension their might be the city of Brisbourne – a unique, lively city which is currently about to start the 2014 BRL competition.
The entire city is alive with excitement at expected huge crowds, the entire city is decked out in Valleys, Brothers and Wests colours and no real opposition in town.
And that would be a sight to behold.
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