Sing when you're losing: Australian fans need to find their voice

The Australian men’s cricket team will take on England and compete for a tiny terracotta trophy, believed to contain some ashes inside.

It will be the 69th time the two countries face off in one of sport’s most historic rivalries. For the record, the most historic sporting rivalry is between the US and Canada in cricket, no less.

The event predates the America’s Cup (1851) by seven years and apparently continues in recent times. Go figure, as the Yanks say.

It’s predicted the Aussies will narrowly defeat the Poms on their home turf, despite the absence of Ryan Harris, who abruptly announced his retirement from the game last week.

As per usual, though, the English will win an off-field battle of sorts, with many of their fans providing the more audible contribution to the ovals on which the game is played. Although, it’s hardly a contest. Australian fans will obviously be outnumbered and, for the most part, too indifferent to care if the Barmy Army makes more noise than they do.

However, as an Australian, I do. I care about the curious lack of collective involvement during our domestic and international sporting fixtures.

You see, stuffiness and gentry aside, the Poms simply do better atmosphere than we do. They are generally a more unified and vocally organised bunch than us lot. One need only witness, “You’ll Never Walk Alone” on match day at Anfield, to notice how rousing and fervent a fans’ collective voice can be.

It may not be that those in the Kop are more ‘passionate’ than any Collingwood or Rabbitohs supporter, but they sure do have an inspiring way of showing it.

Certainly, when it comes to cricket, the Barmy Army is a far more distinct and audible band of followers than anything we’ve ever put together.

However, opinions of the Army differ widely. Matt Cleary describes them as, “…a group of troubadours and sing-song merchants who so energise the England team.” To others, they are a boorish, disruptive and persistent rabble that ruins the game’s decency.

For me this series, the Barmy Army will again show what it means to support a team, irrespective of score. They will create an atmosphere so often needed for the enduring sport that is Test match cricket.

Of course, the atmosphere at a sports match relies on far more than singing alone. Yet there is something undeniably powerful and inspiring about it all – the spirit of communion shared through song can be a unifying force – it can stir the soul and warm the heart. At its worst it can be witless and hateful noise. Such is the nature of groups like the Barmy Army or organised football.

As one Guardian commenter said, “[These groups] are interesting from a social psychology perspective because they certainly owe their initial existence to the sport, but are equally about a sense of community, self-validation and, at their worst, mob culture, de-individuation, and anti-social behaviour made possible by lowered accountability and group anonymity.”

When I was young I went to a few Ashes Tests with my Dad. I was envious and amused at the Barmy Army’s songs and embarrassed that in reply we could only muster up something that sounded like, “Oggy oggy oggy!”

Although it’s become an unfashionable chant in recent times, it’s really not that bad – it just happens to be our only one. In truth, many of the Barmy Army’s songs are repetitive chants. Yet, they have a litany of these at their disposal, many taken from the football terraces.

Theories abound why Australian sporting crowds lack the same singsong culture of the British. The truth is we could have it too, if we wanted. In some cases we already do.

Much has been said of the introduction of the Western Sydney Wanderers and the zealous support their Red and Black Bloc (RBB) have brought to the A-League, for good or ill.

Although the Barmy Army and RBB are two distinctly different phenomena, they both share something in common – they are seemingly impervious to failure. Losing doesn’t seem to alter their attendance nor does it seem to affect the volume of their support. If anything, failure is a reflection of their commitment. It is proof of passion.

Some point to Australia’s demand for sporting success at why we lack the willingness to sing during matches.

Why encourage mediocrity, they ask? The same is often said of the US and their fickle fandom. At the Tokyo Olympics in 1964, embittered US high jumper, John Thomas said, “I can’t trust [US] fans and supposed well-wishers anymore… If I win they are with me. If I lose, they’re the first to desert me and call me a bum. They have no use for losers.”

One US commenter suggested, “American fans run hot and cold… Brits worship their teams while Americans just follow theirs. Your stadia are shrines and ours are named after banks.”

Maybe there’s a shred of truth to that. However, it doesn’t explain the absence of singing – Americans are quite capable of belting out the star spangled banner. And, it doesn’t explain the highly organised and vocal fans of any US college team or the Portland Timbers, who have consistently struggled in the MLS.

Although their support is more chant-driven, rather than song-based, the net effect is similar.

Certainly, in the MLS and A-League, the globalisation and commodification of European football has led to similar displays of support.

For example, one of Sydney FC’s songs, We are Sydney is a direct imitation of one of Swansea City’s. Melbourne Victory’s, Take me Home Victory Road is sung to the tune of Manchester United’s Take me Home United Road.

Thus, if the Barmy Army owes much of their existence to English football fandom it stands to reason that the similar emergence of A-League support could spread to our other codes.

Why we have lacked the same habits of British fans is unclear. One commenter of The Roar said, “…it just doesn’t come naturally to us [Australians]. There’s just such a deep seated reticence, almost an embarrassment about singing.”

Indeed, it’s the most salient theory about why we don’t sing at sports matches. The British, somewhere along the way, combined folk songs with the emergence of sport. During the 19th century songs went from the music halls to the terraces of newly established sporting grounds in what was a continued expression of one’s regional identity.

Instead of acknowledging this cultural deficiency, we sometimes look to other reasons at why we don’t sing at sporting matches. One such theory being our other codes are too action-packed to allow for sustained singing, such is their pace of play. However, the Wigan Ultras or Scarlet Fever, in rugby league and rugby union, respectively, seem to dispel that myth.

Of course, not all those that attend a football, union or league match in the UK are singing. Some may half-heartedly clap along and most others remain fixated on the match, reactively interjecting at the state of play, just us as we would. However, the ones that do sing offer something else that we simply do not.

During an interview in 1977, Iggy Pop was asked what he’d like fans to do during his shows. He replied, “I would enjoy it if sometimes everyone would lay down on the floor and not applaud or pay any attention to me… you can do what you want when I play.”

Of course, if you pay to attend a sports match you should choose how to show your support, if at all. However, if you take delight in venting your spleen, I say do so in unison.

If you passionately claim that team to be yours then why not stand and be heard? It can lift a team in more ways than applause or lone acts of shouting ever could. It mustn’t come from songbooks administered by corporation or club, hoping to facilitate their idea of ‘atmosphere’.

Rather, it should come from us, the so-called sports obsessed people of Australia. Who’s with me?