Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, February 18, 2004


IS IT REALLY FOOTY SEASON ALREADY?

ONE lizard, one kid, two stones. First stone lobs just over lizard. Lizard's pops up head, which is snapped off by second stone. Easy. Such feats of dazzling hand-eye coordination are routine among the kids in the Anangu Pitjantjatjara Lands, in far north SA. The best way of ridding Australia of the pest Indian mynah bird would be to offer a 50 cent bounty and let the stone throwers loose at them. No mynah would be left in a month. The last time I was in The Lands in the '70s, I had watched a group of boys at Ernabella roll an empty jam tin down a hill. From the top, they kept throwing stones at the tin as it bounced and bumped all the way to the bottom. They never missed. In schoolyard games of tippy-go cricket, their aim at the stumps is so unerring that the first completed run is usually enough to win. The girls are also phenomenal rope skippers and both sexes have an uncanny instinct for basketball. At Indulkana, an eight year old girl effortlessly ran rings around me, dribbling through my legs and shooting goals at will. Her natural talent was far in advance of mine, which was unfair. Yet individual success is the last thing on their minds. The culture is based on group activity and teamwork, not personal glory. School sports days feature foot races which no-one wins. Runners stop halfway, or deliberately veer off the side of the track or everyone links arms to cross the line in a dead heat. Such an attitude can be frustrating for Phys Ed teachers. One told me how, at his urging, a talent scout had gone to The Lands to see an outstanding female sprinter - possibly the new Cathy Freeman. The girl won her race but in such a slow time, making sure she kept with the others, the stopwatch was already put away. Complex social rules may also play a part in the outcome of a race. One person may not be allowed to beat another who is slower but higher in the community pecking order. Indeed, the real point of Anangu sports days is to confirm and celebrate family bonds and for the kids to re-connect with their elders. Last footy season I watched an under-17 match at Unley Oval between Sturt and Port Adelaide. By half-time, Sturt had a handy lead because their players, mostly white, were bigger and stronger in the air. The Port players, mostly Aboriginal, were lighter and smaller. But once in the clear, they put on flashy displays of blind turns and lookaway handpasses, tucking the ball under their arms and taking off on winged heels. Blatant lairising and great to watch. Port Adelaide's investment in young black talent could one day produce the first all-Aboriginal SANFL side although they might have trouble finding a ruckman. They should adopt Anangu rules. At one sports day, an Aboriginal mother was perplexed about why the races were organised in age or class levels. Instead, she suggested ranking them by height which, when you think about it, makes at least as much sense.