Loyalty and Symbolism in The ClubMarch 7, 2012 by Phillip Dimitriadis 12 Comments

By Phil DimitriadisThe Club by David Williamson examines the political machinations of a failing football club and the power plays of its traditional and emerging stakeholders. The play challenges the hero myth and teamwork ethic that seems prevalent in the celebratory publications. It is a play about relationships and their vulnerability as the club seeks to examine its lack of success and look for the appropriate scapegoats.The Club is also about the breakdown of ethical boundaries in business, sport politics and personal human relationships. The inflexibility and sanctity of tradition is countered by the need to seek new solutions, keep up with the times and chase success at almost any cost. As Gerry the new breed administrator says when questioned about the inhuman nature of trading players like livestock: the fact remains that there is a market mechanism operating, there is a price on every player (Act 1, p.36).Loyalty becomes an anachronism in this type of environment, but not in a symbolic sense. Loyalty is valued because it symbolizes a veneer of conformity, of working through and trusting that success will ensue if the worldview of the committee or board is appropriated. The ego is threatened in some individuals under these circumstances and opposing forces defiantly defend their territory. The young recruit Geoff Hayward and the ageing captain Danny Rowe exhibit the shadow side of the footballers archetype that is dedicated to team success, has a selfless work ethic and modestly plays down his own abilities. The characters of Geoff and Danny want some power too. They want to be validated as people whose opinions are valued and when they are not they rebel. Geoff is torn between the desire to feel like Achilles chasing the golden orb (Act1, p.43) and the demands of having a real perspective on the ruthlessness and competitive nature of football. He says:Its all a lot of macho-competitive bullshit. You chase a lump of pigskin around a muddy ground as if your bloody life depended on it and when you get it you kick it to buggery and go chasing it again. Football shits me. (Act1, p.39).No wonder the coach often needs the power of a skilled alchemist to blend a team of 40 or more individuals into a team focused on similar goals. Football is only a game to many but it is also a complex network of relationships, which are fuelled by the symbolic rhetoric, political aspirations and economic dependency of the individuals who live their lives within the professional and historical paradigm of a club.Danny Rowe has his own reasons for rebelling. He is the proud club captain closing in on the coveted 282 games record held by Jock, ex-player former coach, current vice-president and ubiquitous troublemaker. Danny wants to strike, a symbolic assertion of solidarity expressed on behalf of the playing group to demonstrate that it those who play the game that ensure that it becomes more than a game off the field. The battle for recognition by Rowe is symbolic of the players realization that they need to respected and paid well for their professional gifts. He argues: If Im out there risking a fractured skull or a ruptured spleen for a pack of overweight drunks in the grandstand bar then I want to get paid for it (Act1, p.22).Rowes vitriolic defiance brings us to the question of how the players relate to fans expectations. The fans are sometimes seen as passive spectators whose emotions ebb and flow with their teams success and the performance of the players. To an extent this seems prevalent in most sports, as fans tune in or attend a game, think about it read about, talk about it and then get on to dealing with lifes other vagaries. Fans are more intelligent and aware than they are often given credit for. They understand that the relationship with the players can be like a kind of simulated friendship or platonic love experienced at varying distances. The members that pour money into a club can feel that they are entitled to see their investment accounted for in on-field performance. They are therefore more likely to take a more actively hands-on critical/celebratory role in the fortune of their team.Most fans in the terraces or grandstands realize that there are illusions at play, drama that is temporal, symbolic and unlikely to last for long. The dilemma lies in the fact that supporters have an emotional, tribal and religious devotion to a club. This means that the players must at least pretend that they are playing for the dreams of their fans and for the love of the club, its colors and its history. Journalist Greg Baum interprets the dilemma thus:All are knowing co-conspirators in a grand deceit, that the players for their part feel for the club as such as the fans do, and the fans for their part that they can influence the clubs fortunes as surely as the players can. Player and fan are as one, and yet irreconcilable. The only certainty is that for a time, they wear the same colors. (Baum, 05/06/2003, The Age).Supporters idolize the players and many young kids and adults unashamedly wear the number of their favorite player on the back of their replica guernsey. However, players have been disloyal to clubs and vice versa. Therefore, the supporters focus on the current team to bring forth the glory that the psyche so agonizingly craves so it may feel part of a higher more purposeful good. Danny Rowes frustration is palpably understandable to the objective observer. However, his outburst would verge on sacrilege to the fans of the club because he is subverting an imaginary innocence that drives the religious fervour of the fans. They know deep down that Rowe is not and never will be the messiah, but it doesnt stop them from hoping that his captaincy, loyalty and skill may just help deliver the holy grail after nineteen barren years. In a sense, Rowe and archetypes like him are the knowing conspirators that Baum refers to, but like the fans, players have doubts about what their purpose is in this drama.