I am going to be sick. My chest is starting to erupt in crimson, if only the excessive sweat from my arm pits would flow across my burning chest. He is still staring at me. Its hot, why isn’t the damn air conditioner turned up. He is still staring. I wonder why he isn’t hot. My hands slip on the chair handles, I can’t get my grip. Too much sweat. I can’t hold on. I can hear my heart. All I can hear is the thunderous beat and he is still staring. The room starts to spin. He moves. It’s about to begin. My heart pounds. Sweat drips. “So Chelsea you say you have issues with speaking about your emotions,” the counsellor says. Counsellors need to be paid more I think.
Once I almost killed my brother. It was fantastic. When he collapsed I cried. It was the best thing that could have happened to me. It proved I did have feelings. I realised I loved him. I realised I could love and feel. My friends and family say I’m cold hearted. I hate touching, when people hug me I tense up and think of every possible way to avoid the situation. I have severed friendships if the hugging level was too high. I don’t do the post sex snuggle. I don’t like to lay in each others arms listening to their heart beat. Gross.
I don’t think my counsellor needs to know I almost killed my brother and it filled me with elation. He might suggest another appointment. Instead he looks at me friendly and gently tries to knead information out of me. I hate him. I hate this room. I hate this chair. I hate talking. He keeps asking questions though. He is stupid. He keeps speaking. Words. Just words to me. I want to run. A sole tear runs down my cheek and I haven’t even spoken yet. I am exposed, vulnerable, overwhelmed. He hands me a tissue. The tear is joined by others.
I am the youngest of three children yet I defy the stereotype. I am neither the spoilt one nor the one that is lavished with attention. I rarely am asked for my opinion or encouraged to join in political debates. I sit and I listen and I nod. I am heard but not listened to. I am not expected to succeed but seen as the one constantly struggling. My sister is a child you brag about. She received an OP 1, was school captain and received a scholarship to university. She is now a practising lawyer in the top firm in the country at just 25. My parents coat themselves in her success whilst saying I’m doing the best I can. My brother has Down syndrome. My mum has sacrificed her life to him. I was born into a family that never really knew I existed.
I try to voice why I am like this but my voice trembles. I tuck my hands up into my jumper and scratch at invisible itches. He stares and he waits. Growing up my dad suffered from depression and went to stay at a mental health clinic, my sister become anorexic and my brother needed constant care, my problems were not life or death, my mother did not have time for them understandably. I rush through this sentence, avoiding his eyes. I stare at the wall, I get stuck half way through, a ball is in my throat and steals my words. I loose my momentum and fall. “It’s not your fault,” he says. I hate him a little less.
“Chelsea we don’t like to talk to you about that kind of stuff because you are like a rock,” was what my best friend said to me over a pumpkin risotto. “You’re so cold; you don’t understand emotional stuff….maybe that’s why you don’t have a boyfriend.” My friends constantly refer to me as the bitch, the cold one, the ice queen. They laugh and joke about it and I laugh along too while inside a little bit of me erects a new barrier.
I have worked so long at my wall, building it, making it strong and unable to be penetrated. People who are unaffected and don’t shed a tear are seen as strong and brave. They are confident and a tower of strength. What a lie. We are so afraid to feel, so afraid to show, so afraid of what will happen if we take a chance, so we continue building our wall. The wall of course takes casualties. That chance at love, at friendship. We sacrifice this for safety.
The tears won’t stop and I feel so stupid. I stumble trying to tell him I want to be able to hug my mum without tensing up with anxiety; I want to tell my sister I love her without my heart pounding in my ears. He looks and waits for me to continue but my words are replaced with tears. The tissue is soaking from being clenched in my hands. I worry he is watching my tears, watching my sweat, watching my fidgeting, I can’t hear him. Air struggles to get through my nose. All is struggling to get through to me, his voice, his advice, my mum’s touch, my friend’s laughs. I can’t feel it.
They all end the same way, relationships. They loose the battle they get tired of trying to break through my wall. They see no light at the end of the tunnel, they fail, and I win. Me and my wall win again. I lose nothing. I walk away with everything I brought it, they steal nothing, and I give nothing. The wall isn’t keeping me warm at night though.
I am an empty stream. Fragile. Exhausted. I have been with him for only half an hour but my body drips weak. I want to collapse on his couch but I need to escape from these pressurised emotions. I want to know I can change that I will get better. “It won’t happen over night Chelsea, you will have to start small, build your way up till you’re able to hug your friends without experiencing anxiety, visualise doing it first, see how you feel, what you experience,” he says. I feel so pathetic, like one of those people that have to take small steps till they can hold a handful of dust. I’m a freak.
I choose to emotionally shut down to not burden anyone with my emotions, then it was to avoid feeling vulnerable, exposed and to avoid getting hurt. Now it’s not a choice, now it’s paralysing. “Chelsea you appear to have an actual phobia of showing and discussing emotions and need to continue seeking help,” he says.
My name is Chelsea and I have a phobia, but I don’t want to talk about it.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Facing Colten
He was different. He knew it. His mother knew. Everyone knew it. Yet it was a covered truth. His mother refused to let people think her son may be different. She held Tupperware parties and drank merlot accompanied with camembert with ladies who lunch. She did not have a disabled child.
She disguised his inability to learn and adsorb like the others as just being a typical boy. Just a boy, going through a phase, rebelling. He knew something made him different. Even when he tried he couldn’t understand what was being taught to him. The limit on his ability crushed him and led him to face ridicule. He knew he had done something to deserve this. His mother looked at him with such distaste that he knew he had hurt her, he just couldn’t remember how. He made people embarrassed and awkward. He hated how upset he made people but he knew it was his fault. He had been bad his mother said. This is what happens to bad little boys.
The doctor mentioned intellectually disabled. He needed a different facility to learn. Perhaps a special school. She cried. He stared. What was it about this place that made her so upset, so ashamed that she couldn’t look him in the eye? He hated the idea, hated what it was doing to his mother, and hated who he was.
The sleek black Audi comes to a defined stop. It does not belong here but he does. He’s here. Collten State Special School, the termite-infested block says. It wasn’t a new name to him; all the kids at school told him here was where he would “fit in,” which they always followed with a laugh that erupted like a burst tyre. School was never fun for him, not a day would go by without the words retard, spastic or freak being spat at him. He waves to his mother whilst he steps out of the car and slithers to the gate. The white picket fence seems innocent enough but behind it masks a more fearful encounter. The gate creaks when touched and makes an ear-pitching screech when opened to its full potential. As he enters sweat begins to perspire and fall like pellets from his brow. His cheap shirt begins to stick to his back; he can feel the material shrinking with every drop of fluid it absorbs. His breath is sharp and hollow, the repetitions unable to be controlled.
He’s late. He quickly picks up his legs. His feet begin to scruff the ground; tarnishing the new black polish his mother applied that morning. He feels the gum on his soles stick to the ground. It was a joke amongst all his peers to put it there, one he never saw the humour in. His thoughts begin to digress on as he follows the ramp painted in bright, fluorescent colours, in an attempt he assumes to hide the dark realities of the children’s future. He continues to follow its path in a hope of finding the woman. Eventually, he finds her lair. The door reads “Principal May,” surrounded by A3 drawings of intended objects that instead appear to just be swirls of colour. He cautiously opens the door and is faced with a mid-forties, plump woman, who reminds him of the lady on the front of the Sara-Lee choc-chip cookies. Her smile is warm, with loose caramel curls flowing like a slow water feature down the side of her chubby face. He instantly hates her.
He follows the plump woman. Watching her behind click up and down with the rise and fall of her weight. She continues to ramble on whilst her Kmart, short sleeved, floral dress sways like the tide. He doesn’t want to go on. He can feel his body freeze up. His muscles commence to cramp making even the thought of walking unbearable. He face begins to emit the fear that his body is erupting in. The women turns, sympathy flows from her eyes as she takes his hand.
Suddenly the woman slows to stop. He tries to look ahead but her smiling, fleshy face is masking his view. She steps away leaving him naked of all protection. They are all unaware of his presence. They continue to sit there tamely, laughing and smiling with each other. He wants to run. Suddenly, like the onset of a sneeze they all turn to face him. Eyes beaming right at him. With each second they begin to grow wider and wider. He’s cemented to his position, nowhere to go.
He stares at their altered faces. Each having the same features as any human, yet they all appear fractured and disjointed. His eyes are becoming blurred as someone is taking his hand. It’s the plump woman. She is smiling that fleshy smile at him. He is vulnerable, and alone in front of these things, with only the stupid plump woman’s hand for support.
He stiffens. They are up, each individual coming towards him. He can feel the force of their inertia coming closer and closer to him, decreasing the tolerable distance he once held. He can see their mouths moving and hear the noises but everything is muted. He feels numb. Hands, which appear sticky and moist, reach out towards him. He needs to run but he is swarmed. They’re grasping his stiff body. He is left immobile as each grubby finger seizes the control of his body. He waits for pain. He knows it’s coming, it happens everyday, why would today be any different? He continues to wait but nothing happens. The grasp on him has become soft and gentle. Warmth entraps his body. Smiles begin to flow towards him. Innocent flooded eyes comfortably linger on his face. The woman starts to say something, but he is unable to hear due to the continuous welcomes from the class. He doesn’t want to hear her, for once in this unusual bowl of mutant variation he is happy, accepted. He is free.
She disguised his inability to learn and adsorb like the others as just being a typical boy. Just a boy, going through a phase, rebelling. He knew something made him different. Even when he tried he couldn’t understand what was being taught to him. The limit on his ability crushed him and led him to face ridicule. He knew he had done something to deserve this. His mother looked at him with such distaste that he knew he had hurt her, he just couldn’t remember how. He made people embarrassed and awkward. He hated how upset he made people but he knew it was his fault. He had been bad his mother said. This is what happens to bad little boys.
The doctor mentioned intellectually disabled. He needed a different facility to learn. Perhaps a special school. She cried. He stared. What was it about this place that made her so upset, so ashamed that she couldn’t look him in the eye? He hated the idea, hated what it was doing to his mother, and hated who he was.
The sleek black Audi comes to a defined stop. It does not belong here but he does. He’s here. Collten State Special School, the termite-infested block says. It wasn’t a new name to him; all the kids at school told him here was where he would “fit in,” which they always followed with a laugh that erupted like a burst tyre. School was never fun for him, not a day would go by without the words retard, spastic or freak being spat at him. He waves to his mother whilst he steps out of the car and slithers to the gate. The white picket fence seems innocent enough but behind it masks a more fearful encounter. The gate creaks when touched and makes an ear-pitching screech when opened to its full potential. As he enters sweat begins to perspire and fall like pellets from his brow. His cheap shirt begins to stick to his back; he can feel the material shrinking with every drop of fluid it absorbs. His breath is sharp and hollow, the repetitions unable to be controlled.
He’s late. He quickly picks up his legs. His feet begin to scruff the ground; tarnishing the new black polish his mother applied that morning. He feels the gum on his soles stick to the ground. It was a joke amongst all his peers to put it there, one he never saw the humour in. His thoughts begin to digress on as he follows the ramp painted in bright, fluorescent colours, in an attempt he assumes to hide the dark realities of the children’s future. He continues to follow its path in a hope of finding the woman. Eventually, he finds her lair. The door reads “Principal May,” surrounded by A3 drawings of intended objects that instead appear to just be swirls of colour. He cautiously opens the door and is faced with a mid-forties, plump woman, who reminds him of the lady on the front of the Sara-Lee choc-chip cookies. Her smile is warm, with loose caramel curls flowing like a slow water feature down the side of her chubby face. He instantly hates her.
He follows the plump woman. Watching her behind click up and down with the rise and fall of her weight. She continues to ramble on whilst her Kmart, short sleeved, floral dress sways like the tide. He doesn’t want to go on. He can feel his body freeze up. His muscles commence to cramp making even the thought of walking unbearable. He face begins to emit the fear that his body is erupting in. The women turns, sympathy flows from her eyes as she takes his hand.
Suddenly the woman slows to stop. He tries to look ahead but her smiling, fleshy face is masking his view. She steps away leaving him naked of all protection. They are all unaware of his presence. They continue to sit there tamely, laughing and smiling with each other. He wants to run. Suddenly, like the onset of a sneeze they all turn to face him. Eyes beaming right at him. With each second they begin to grow wider and wider. He’s cemented to his position, nowhere to go.
He stares at their altered faces. Each having the same features as any human, yet they all appear fractured and disjointed. His eyes are becoming blurred as someone is taking his hand. It’s the plump woman. She is smiling that fleshy smile at him. He is vulnerable, and alone in front of these things, with only the stupid plump woman’s hand for support.
He stiffens. They are up, each individual coming towards him. He can feel the force of their inertia coming closer and closer to him, decreasing the tolerable distance he once held. He can see their mouths moving and hear the noises but everything is muted. He feels numb. Hands, which appear sticky and moist, reach out towards him. He needs to run but he is swarmed. They’re grasping his stiff body. He is left immobile as each grubby finger seizes the control of his body. He waits for pain. He knows it’s coming, it happens everyday, why would today be any different? He continues to wait but nothing happens. The grasp on him has become soft and gentle. Warmth entraps his body. Smiles begin to flow towards him. Innocent flooded eyes comfortably linger on his face. The woman starts to say something, but he is unable to hear due to the continuous welcomes from the class. He doesn’t want to hear her, for once in this unusual bowl of mutant variation he is happy, accepted. He is free.
Great Keppel Island
My feet sink ever so lightly into the sand beneath; the sun warms my body like a treasured blanket while my hair blows so perfectly off my face. This could possibly be the setting for a fabulous fashion shoot with an equally fabulous model but reality bites and you have me. While I’m no model the setting is every bit as desirable as a Victoria Secret show. The smell of sweet, sugar cocktails lingers in the air inviting you to indulge in this luxury even though it is well before 10am. Great Keppel Island is a sub-tropical oasis wrapped in turquoise, clear waters. The perfect place to escape the daily grind and immerse yourself in living life by ‘island time.’
Palms graze low over the white sand beaches while the Pacific sea is like crystal waiting to be broken by your touch. Temperatures over the summer reach above 30 degrees yet the water stays refreshing and cool. Diving in, expect to see tropical fish swimming in schools below, sting rays nestling in the sand and if you’re lucky a sea turtle floating by. As Keppel is located up north visitors must be wary of the stinger season, which include Irukandji Jellyfish and Box Jellyfish. Stinger suits are provided for this season, which runs from October through to May. I have always travelled around the late September to November period and have not worn a suit once nor witnessed anyone being stung. Maybe I live life on the edge or maybe it’s the infectious calm feeling island life brings.
Great Keppel Island is a 28km shoreline of pure bliss. It has 17 white-sandy beaches and most of them are secluded, this allows for some topless sunbaking away from prying eyes. Staying at the resort permits access to free activities such as golfing, snorkelling, kayaking and other beach activities but really I wasn’t going to replace my already busy schedule with another. If you are into activities galore then Keppel is the place for you but if like me your idea of a holiday is waking up at 10am, lazily wandering to your spot on the beach, cocktail in hand while you read your romance novel only to fall asleep 20 minutes later, this island will suit you fine as well.
Places to eat on the island are scarce but you will still find variety. The resort has its own buffet meals and a burger store. The island also has its own pizza place while the pub up the road offers you all you would expect whilst gourmet offerings as well. If you prefer to cook yourself there are two local stores located at each end of the island. However, expect prices to be more expensive due to extra shipping, so try to pack all you will need (no one likes paying $5 for butter). The cocktail menu is all you will need to be acquainted with on this holiday. Expect a different delicious, slice of life cocktail to be served each morning as you drift to the beach. Keppel has it all from the fruity Cointreau twists to the decadent Baileys chocolate cocktails.
Accommodation on the island is varied to suit a range of tastes. Ulrika Richards who has been travelling to the island for 15 years said, “Keppel has also been my desired destination as it has been able to suit each different stage in my life, from when I was married, with my kids, and when I was looking for some fun.” The island boasts its own 3.5 star resort which hosts water and garden view rooms and hillside villas. It has five swimming pools and two spas, all with the necessary waterside bar. The resort will suit both families and couples seeking a relaxing getaway. Yet if you’re a couple seeking some time away from the kids plan your trip outside of school holidays. During my trip I stayed in the garden view room, which costs around $145 a night depending on the season. The rooms are not spectacular but they are clean and spacious. Rooms consist of usually two double beds, a balcony, TV, phone, fridge and large cupboards. The bathrooms are basic yet kept clean. The rooms don’t scream luxury but when you’re on a tropical island who spends any time in their room anyway?
The island has numerous beach houses that can be rented for visitors. The houses can occupy four people and up to 20 in the Keppel Lodge for $440 a night. “These are great for group getaways,” said frequent traveller Marilyn Sneyd, “they are central to everything and a big money saver as you can bring all your own food.” The north end of the island also has its own camping ground, which is perfect for students and the younger crowd as it is allocated right behind the island pub. The pub is a must when at Keppel. It is the hub of the island where you can meet true locals, staff and people looking for a good time. It buzzes with a relaxed energy that is refreshing. Where else can you lay back, beer in hand with Crowded House sweeping through your ears while a goanna lurks in the sand? Tents can be rented from $33 per night, which includes all linen, kitchen wear and snorkelling gear. Yet if choosing this option be very wary of the goannas, it’s a face you defiantly don’t want to be waking up too.
Great Keppel Island is located 15km off the Capricorn coast near Rockhampton. Flights between Brisbane and Rockhampton take one hour and cost around $90 depending on the season. To reach the island you can take a 20min flight from Rockhampton airport for $70, which allows you to take in the breathtaking aerial views. Otherwise, a catamaran charters from Rosslyn Bay, which is allocated about half an hour from the airport by bus. The ferry costs $30 and takes 30min in good weather. This form of transport is a great way to unwind and lie back whilst watching the mainland get smaller and more insignificant. However, not recommended if you get sea sick, as trips can be quiet bumpy.
At the end of a long day lazing by the beach there is nothing better to do then to go to the sunset lounge. It is breath-taking watching the crimson colours melt into the Capricorn Coast and life on the mainland seems like such a distant memory. The sky swims in oranges, reds, whites and blues like an undiluted oil painting. Sipping your chocolate island dream cocktail drowning in the fading light, you wonder if anyone would really notice if you never went back. Could you turn your back on the mainland forever and live in complete paradise? The life of a scuba diving instructor continues to become ever more alluring.
Palms graze low over the white sand beaches while the Pacific sea is like crystal waiting to be broken by your touch. Temperatures over the summer reach above 30 degrees yet the water stays refreshing and cool. Diving in, expect to see tropical fish swimming in schools below, sting rays nestling in the sand and if you’re lucky a sea turtle floating by. As Keppel is located up north visitors must be wary of the stinger season, which include Irukandji Jellyfish and Box Jellyfish. Stinger suits are provided for this season, which runs from October through to May. I have always travelled around the late September to November period and have not worn a suit once nor witnessed anyone being stung. Maybe I live life on the edge or maybe it’s the infectious calm feeling island life brings.
Great Keppel Island is a 28km shoreline of pure bliss. It has 17 white-sandy beaches and most of them are secluded, this allows for some topless sunbaking away from prying eyes. Staying at the resort permits access to free activities such as golfing, snorkelling, kayaking and other beach activities but really I wasn’t going to replace my already busy schedule with another. If you are into activities galore then Keppel is the place for you but if like me your idea of a holiday is waking up at 10am, lazily wandering to your spot on the beach, cocktail in hand while you read your romance novel only to fall asleep 20 minutes later, this island will suit you fine as well.
Places to eat on the island are scarce but you will still find variety. The resort has its own buffet meals and a burger store. The island also has its own pizza place while the pub up the road offers you all you would expect whilst gourmet offerings as well. If you prefer to cook yourself there are two local stores located at each end of the island. However, expect prices to be more expensive due to extra shipping, so try to pack all you will need (no one likes paying $5 for butter). The cocktail menu is all you will need to be acquainted with on this holiday. Expect a different delicious, slice of life cocktail to be served each morning as you drift to the beach. Keppel has it all from the fruity Cointreau twists to the decadent Baileys chocolate cocktails.
Accommodation on the island is varied to suit a range of tastes. Ulrika Richards who has been travelling to the island for 15 years said, “Keppel has also been my desired destination as it has been able to suit each different stage in my life, from when I was married, with my kids, and when I was looking for some fun.” The island boasts its own 3.5 star resort which hosts water and garden view rooms and hillside villas. It has five swimming pools and two spas, all with the necessary waterside bar. The resort will suit both families and couples seeking a relaxing getaway. Yet if you’re a couple seeking some time away from the kids plan your trip outside of school holidays. During my trip I stayed in the garden view room, which costs around $145 a night depending on the season. The rooms are not spectacular but they are clean and spacious. Rooms consist of usually two double beds, a balcony, TV, phone, fridge and large cupboards. The bathrooms are basic yet kept clean. The rooms don’t scream luxury but when you’re on a tropical island who spends any time in their room anyway?
The island has numerous beach houses that can be rented for visitors. The houses can occupy four people and up to 20 in the Keppel Lodge for $440 a night. “These are great for group getaways,” said frequent traveller Marilyn Sneyd, “they are central to everything and a big money saver as you can bring all your own food.” The north end of the island also has its own camping ground, which is perfect for students and the younger crowd as it is allocated right behind the island pub. The pub is a must when at Keppel. It is the hub of the island where you can meet true locals, staff and people looking for a good time. It buzzes with a relaxed energy that is refreshing. Where else can you lay back, beer in hand with Crowded House sweeping through your ears while a goanna lurks in the sand? Tents can be rented from $33 per night, which includes all linen, kitchen wear and snorkelling gear. Yet if choosing this option be very wary of the goannas, it’s a face you defiantly don’t want to be waking up too.
Great Keppel Island is located 15km off the Capricorn coast near Rockhampton. Flights between Brisbane and Rockhampton take one hour and cost around $90 depending on the season. To reach the island you can take a 20min flight from Rockhampton airport for $70, which allows you to take in the breathtaking aerial views. Otherwise, a catamaran charters from Rosslyn Bay, which is allocated about half an hour from the airport by bus. The ferry costs $30 and takes 30min in good weather. This form of transport is a great way to unwind and lie back whilst watching the mainland get smaller and more insignificant. However, not recommended if you get sea sick, as trips can be quiet bumpy.
At the end of a long day lazing by the beach there is nothing better to do then to go to the sunset lounge. It is breath-taking watching the crimson colours melt into the Capricorn Coast and life on the mainland seems like such a distant memory. The sky swims in oranges, reds, whites and blues like an undiluted oil painting. Sipping your chocolate island dream cocktail drowning in the fading light, you wonder if anyone would really notice if you never went back. Could you turn your back on the mainland forever and live in complete paradise? The life of a scuba diving instructor continues to become ever more alluring.
Waiting
I stood there waiting for you to care
You shut the door behind you
The rain fell hard on my body like your hands did last night
I felt my body dampen with each drop
My soul starting to sink
I stood there waiting for you to care
You watched me drown from dry land
I still stood, waiting for you to care
You shut the door behind you
The rain fell hard on my body like your hands did last night
I felt my body dampen with each drop
My soul starting to sink
I stood there waiting for you to care
You watched me drown from dry land
I still stood, waiting for you to care
Bad Boys in Sport: what you gonna do?
“You brought the game into disrepute,” he says. Who he is speaking about really doesn’t matter because it always seems that from week to week, game to game it seems to change. This week Andrew Symonds, last week Ben Cousins.
Is it an epidemic that is crippling sporting clubs around Australia. But are we really expecting too much from players? They’re job is to play sport and play it well, they have signed to a club not to the hearts of Australians. However, being in the public eye through reaching that top level of sport, their job surpasses the boundaries of the field and they are well compensated for this job that is a 24/7 role.
There are many factors contributing to the crises that are occurring in sport, in particular football but could some simple public relations techniques and training be the answer?
“Most of these young players come straight from Year 11 or 12 at school, where they are relatively unknown, into a sporting culture where they are heavily revered by fans,” says University of South Australia sport psychology expert Dr Murray Drummond in his interview with Brisbane Times. Yong players are immediately thrown into a situation that fosters a strong masculine culture where they see themselves as powerful and privileged.
The situation these young players face is rather unrealistic. Most haven’t held down a regular paying job for any length of time and then are thrown into a job where they are paid significant salaries and have limited experience on the value of it. Jetstar Titans is combating this problem by making it a requirement for it’s under 20’s team to be holding down a job and/or undertaking training says head coach Steve Murphy. He says the boys not only need to have a back up plan but they need to learn about responsibility and respect.
Football players are bearing the brunt of most negative press. These ‘bad boys’ of the sporting community seem to attract trouble. Yet are their personalities to blame?
One phycology lecture, Mitch Byrne of the University of Woollongong, presented the term, ‘athletic personality.’ Athletes tend to more extroverted, assertive and self confident, as there profession is filled with constant praise and rewards for their behaviour. Cumulate this personality in one team, and you have a group of not only testosterone filled men but an over-representation of extroverted, assertive and self confident people.
Dr Lindsay Fitzclarence has been researching abusive behaviour by footballers for several years. She says in her new book, “There is a fine line between illegal behaviour and the practices required to play body contact sport.” There is currently no adequate training that footballers in particular receive that teaches them how to walk that line and not step over it. Aggression and intimidation is continually rewarded on field and it should be no surprise that it is difficult for this to not transcend off field.
This bad behaviour is also being encouraged by the ‘group think’ mentality that exist within sporting clubs. They see those not in the group as outsiders and as less equal says Dr. Fitzclarence. “Sportsmen [develop] an exaggerated sense of entitlement and a diminished sense of responsibility and empathy, in which personal and group wants and desires dominate over consideration for others,” says Dr Fitzclarence. Add drugs and alcohol and it’s really no surprise we are seeing these scandals.
When these scandals arise a denial is usually imminent. The reason that should be used however is always a last resort. Honesty. Telling the truth, as a child we are always told telling the truth is best and as we grow up we believe the truth will set us free, yet apparently this isn’t the belief amongst sporting greats.
Sport PR encompasses the process through which sports organizations can create and develop long term mutually beneficial and profitable relationships with a range of publics. The best way to keep these relationships is to not piss them off, honesty is the best way to avoid this. However, this is not followed in many of Australian sports relationships. “Every time a crisis breaks in sport, all the rules of crisis communication are broken - people tell lies, cover things up, are not available for comment, believe they have nothing to answer for, believe they are above the law, demonstrate a complete lack of ethical principles, don't appreciate how the media works and generally lack the guidance on how to communicate in such situations. This clear lack of understanding of how to operate in a difficult communications situation demonstrates a profound lack of communication understanding generally,” says Bond University PR Professor Maria Hopwood. Hopwood believes if a club has made a mistake it is better to reveal it, apologise and rectify it, then to attempt to cover it up. This only makes the crisis persist and basically ensures that it will continue making front page news for weeks instead of one day of bad press.
Sports PR is currently lacking in sports, believes Hopwood. “There is a clear lack of knowledge and understanding about the potential and value of public relations which is evident in the way sports organizations conduct their business. Marketing and promotion are considered to be the methods by which contact with audiences is established. It seems that relationship building and management are completely missing from the business planning process in sport,” she says.
Sports clubs have issues presenting a consistent message. In the case of the Bronco’s, many reason’s where given for the scandal, except the truth. PR would have assisted the Bronco’s in presenting a consistent message which was synchronised across all media outlets and their number one most controlled form of media, their website. This is a form of communication many clubs disregard. This is the most basic of public relations and many clubs just don’t understand how important it is to communicate with its public in a forum where there is the opportunity for two way communication. In crisis Hopwood says clubs need to “Tell it all, tell it fast and tell it truthfully,” and their website is the best way to do this.
PR is extremely viable at this current time. In this unstable economic climate clubs need to continue to keep sponsors happy and willing to empty their pockets. Sponsors are becoming more reluctant to hand out not only their cash but their name. Many brands are being scared off by inherent risks of sports sponsorships deals. Sponsors basically just can’t afford to have their name connected to a club that has players tied up in drug and sex scandals. Sponsors need to be assured their image is positive and profitable for them in the current climate. Who would want to sponsor the club Cousins joins? No wonder people teams are avoiding him.
PR can aid in dealing with scandals but how can it be used to prevent scandals? PR can be utilised to train players on how to perform in public and how to deal with the media. PR can train junior players on how to handle the overwhelming situation they are in and how to deal with it instead of them resorting to an outlet of drugs and alcohol.
An example of effective team management is the Jetstar Gold Coast Titans. There has been no serious reported case of any of the boys being involved in drug or alcohol scandals and team member James Griffiths says it’s a result of the training. “We know not to get into trouble because if you stuff up, you’re out, there are strict rules and we are banned from going to certain places like Cavil Ave,” he says. They receive PR training on how to present their image and have positive relationships with their publics.
There is a lack of appreciation for the importance of PR in sport. Sports organizations spend their time reacting to unplanned events that result in negative public attitudes then to proactively attempt to influence public’s attitudes. Clubs continue to have public relations as an under-skilled and under appreciated area. It is important for sport to realise they are dealing with boys that require training on how to handle the ‘role model’ title they are appointed. PR can aid sport in controlling the behaviour of players and successfully manage a crises. The boys will always be bad but that doesn’t mean the management of them has to be.
Is it an epidemic that is crippling sporting clubs around Australia. But are we really expecting too much from players? They’re job is to play sport and play it well, they have signed to a club not to the hearts of Australians. However, being in the public eye through reaching that top level of sport, their job surpasses the boundaries of the field and they are well compensated for this job that is a 24/7 role.
There are many factors contributing to the crises that are occurring in sport, in particular football but could some simple public relations techniques and training be the answer?
“Most of these young players come straight from Year 11 or 12 at school, where they are relatively unknown, into a sporting culture where they are heavily revered by fans,” says University of South Australia sport psychology expert Dr Murray Drummond in his interview with Brisbane Times. Yong players are immediately thrown into a situation that fosters a strong masculine culture where they see themselves as powerful and privileged.
The situation these young players face is rather unrealistic. Most haven’t held down a regular paying job for any length of time and then are thrown into a job where they are paid significant salaries and have limited experience on the value of it. Jetstar Titans is combating this problem by making it a requirement for it’s under 20’s team to be holding down a job and/or undertaking training says head coach Steve Murphy. He says the boys not only need to have a back up plan but they need to learn about responsibility and respect.
Football players are bearing the brunt of most negative press. These ‘bad boys’ of the sporting community seem to attract trouble. Yet are their personalities to blame?
One phycology lecture, Mitch Byrne of the University of Woollongong, presented the term, ‘athletic personality.’ Athletes tend to more extroverted, assertive and self confident, as there profession is filled with constant praise and rewards for their behaviour. Cumulate this personality in one team, and you have a group of not only testosterone filled men but an over-representation of extroverted, assertive and self confident people.
Dr Lindsay Fitzclarence has been researching abusive behaviour by footballers for several years. She says in her new book, “There is a fine line between illegal behaviour and the practices required to play body contact sport.” There is currently no adequate training that footballers in particular receive that teaches them how to walk that line and not step over it. Aggression and intimidation is continually rewarded on field and it should be no surprise that it is difficult for this to not transcend off field.
This bad behaviour is also being encouraged by the ‘group think’ mentality that exist within sporting clubs. They see those not in the group as outsiders and as less equal says Dr. Fitzclarence. “Sportsmen [develop] an exaggerated sense of entitlement and a diminished sense of responsibility and empathy, in which personal and group wants and desires dominate over consideration for others,” says Dr Fitzclarence. Add drugs and alcohol and it’s really no surprise we are seeing these scandals.
When these scandals arise a denial is usually imminent. The reason that should be used however is always a last resort. Honesty. Telling the truth, as a child we are always told telling the truth is best and as we grow up we believe the truth will set us free, yet apparently this isn’t the belief amongst sporting greats.
Sport PR encompasses the process through which sports organizations can create and develop long term mutually beneficial and profitable relationships with a range of publics. The best way to keep these relationships is to not piss them off, honesty is the best way to avoid this. However, this is not followed in many of Australian sports relationships. “Every time a crisis breaks in sport, all the rules of crisis communication are broken - people tell lies, cover things up, are not available for comment, believe they have nothing to answer for, believe they are above the law, demonstrate a complete lack of ethical principles, don't appreciate how the media works and generally lack the guidance on how to communicate in such situations. This clear lack of understanding of how to operate in a difficult communications situation demonstrates a profound lack of communication understanding generally,” says Bond University PR Professor Maria Hopwood. Hopwood believes if a club has made a mistake it is better to reveal it, apologise and rectify it, then to attempt to cover it up. This only makes the crisis persist and basically ensures that it will continue making front page news for weeks instead of one day of bad press.
Sports PR is currently lacking in sports, believes Hopwood. “There is a clear lack of knowledge and understanding about the potential and value of public relations which is evident in the way sports organizations conduct their business. Marketing and promotion are considered to be the methods by which contact with audiences is established. It seems that relationship building and management are completely missing from the business planning process in sport,” she says.
Sports clubs have issues presenting a consistent message. In the case of the Bronco’s, many reason’s where given for the scandal, except the truth. PR would have assisted the Bronco’s in presenting a consistent message which was synchronised across all media outlets and their number one most controlled form of media, their website. This is a form of communication many clubs disregard. This is the most basic of public relations and many clubs just don’t understand how important it is to communicate with its public in a forum where there is the opportunity for two way communication. In crisis Hopwood says clubs need to “Tell it all, tell it fast and tell it truthfully,” and their website is the best way to do this.
PR is extremely viable at this current time. In this unstable economic climate clubs need to continue to keep sponsors happy and willing to empty their pockets. Sponsors are becoming more reluctant to hand out not only their cash but their name. Many brands are being scared off by inherent risks of sports sponsorships deals. Sponsors basically just can’t afford to have their name connected to a club that has players tied up in drug and sex scandals. Sponsors need to be assured their image is positive and profitable for them in the current climate. Who would want to sponsor the club Cousins joins? No wonder people teams are avoiding him.
PR can aid in dealing with scandals but how can it be used to prevent scandals? PR can be utilised to train players on how to perform in public and how to deal with the media. PR can train junior players on how to handle the overwhelming situation they are in and how to deal with it instead of them resorting to an outlet of drugs and alcohol.
An example of effective team management is the Jetstar Gold Coast Titans. There has been no serious reported case of any of the boys being involved in drug or alcohol scandals and team member James Griffiths says it’s a result of the training. “We know not to get into trouble because if you stuff up, you’re out, there are strict rules and we are banned from going to certain places like Cavil Ave,” he says. They receive PR training on how to present their image and have positive relationships with their publics.
There is a lack of appreciation for the importance of PR in sport. Sports organizations spend their time reacting to unplanned events that result in negative public attitudes then to proactively attempt to influence public’s attitudes. Clubs continue to have public relations as an under-skilled and under appreciated area. It is important for sport to realise they are dealing with boys that require training on how to handle the ‘role model’ title they are appointed. PR can aid sport in controlling the behaviour of players and successfully manage a crises. The boys will always be bad but that doesn’t mean the management of them has to be.
Flower bomb
When you look at a flower do you see its future, do you see its death or are you mesmerised by its beauty?
A flower does not encourage commitment it is a replaceable beauty much like my heart was to you.
Did you only see the beauty in my eyes and not the deep longing behind them?
I was your temporary touch to your life.
You replaced me.
My roots no longer receive your water or my petals engage your stares.
When did I whittle away in your eyes when I was really in full bloom.
A flower does not encourage commitment it is a replaceable beauty much like my heart was to you.
Did you only see the beauty in my eyes and not the deep longing behind them?
I was your temporary touch to your life.
You replaced me.
My roots no longer receive your water or my petals engage your stares.
When did I whittle away in your eyes when I was really in full bloom.
Toolies rev Indy
When ‘schoolies’ become ‘toolies’ where do they go? For 96 hours they immerse themselves in an adult’s only version of schoolies week, known as Indy. Just four days, it’s shorter then a menstrual cycle yet causes more headaches, nausea, bloating and binging.
Indy provides an escape from our daily life as mature adults. It allows for the chance to revisit our ancestor’s way of living. We begin to communicate through grunts and enthusiastically partake in the eternal search to spread our seed.
Once you enter the gates of Indy you are in another world. New laws exist and morals are thrown out the window. Without warning it becomes acceptable for a man to walk up to a woman and announce, “show us your tits,” and for her to actually do it. As the locals say at Indy, it’s very GC to get your boobs out. Indy provides grown ups with the chance to lose all inhibitions and let their true exhibitionist shine. Men and women become overtly licentious, yet the moment they leave the mature, modest adult returns and all that is left is the peeling sunburn.
Bad behaviour is riot at Indy due to the festival expanding the bounds of common decency. Spectacles that were seen include, topless women, men providing cash for women to take their tops off and prostitutes advertising their services off balconies. The race is barely of interest to those within the grounds, many attending solely for the booze and the babes.
Professor of psychology Paul Wilson of Bond University believes Indy is really an opportunity to lose all morals, “ Indy gives adults a perfectly legal and culturally acceptable excuse to turn into larrikins, some would even say pigs, without attracting too much social negative condemnation.”
Innocent fun does have its limits however. On the first night of Indy more then 50 people were arrested. Over the course of the four days a total of 262 fans were arrested. However, with 314,000 fans attending over the four days and 0.08% being arrested it appears that it was a well-behaved event. The majority of arrests were due to drunk and disorderly behaviour. Only four of those arrests were due to prostitution. However, the disgust amongst many still prevails as even though the behaviour may not be illegal does not mean it should be accepted.This behaviour is being fuelled by the angle Indy is promoted on.
Indy is constantly being endorsed as a long weekend party as outlined on the official website. The Gold Coast promotes the event through displaying a bevy of scantily, clad grid babes and the chance to have fun in the sun. Therefore, it is hypercritical to condemn the behaviour seen as its marketing encourages it.“[Indy] will change with more media condemnation but the Gold Coast media seems to have promoted the benefits of Indy so heavily, including the party, party, party line that it will take a swift turn around to do so,” said Professor Wilson.
To clean up Indy we need to stop advertising it in this manner, which only encourages such negative behaviour.There is pressure to clean up Indy and its bad behaviour. “I don’t want to see a great Gold Coast event ruined by bloody idiots,” Premier Anna Bligh stated after her experience of the event. “Some of the behaviour on balconies was disgusting,” she said.
There are the obvious reasons such as the image of the Gold Coast and the $60 million it pulls in for tourism each year. Yet, wouldn’t seeing naked bouncing breast only entice you to a city? We must stop pretending that Indy is a sophisticated event. An event based on rubber on the road and on the chest isn’t going to attract pillars of society.
The Gold Coast prides its self by offering things no other city would dare. These include the meter maids, Big Brother celebrities, brothels and the chance to gain a loan to fully fund your breast enlargement. The Gold Coast will never be as classy as Melbourne; we must accept that the Gold Coast is sin city.Yet, the state of morality is in question.
These images are beamed to over 200 million people around the world and many of these are young, impressionable minds. The messages we are sending to our youth is damaging. Boys are being taught to see women as purely ‘sluts’ and believe that it is acceptable to demand a woman to undress yet torment her if she refuses. What message is this sending to our young women?
You only have to look around the coast to see young girls desperately trying to fit the ideals of men. Tiny waists sashing on heels, perma-tan, bleached hair and exposed flesh on display. It seems the only way to get boys to notice you is to push your boobs up, stick your butt out and hope to god you don’t come off as too smart. These are the types of women that are paraded around the track at Indy and we are supposed to idolise them.
Indy is an escape for ‘toolies’ yet they can’t escape the responsibility they hold. Children attend this event and look to their elders for the bounds of normal community standards. Indy is about getting loose but not so that all clothes are off in public well before noon. There is a time and place for everything yet until Indy is made an 18+ event we must be weary of the messages we are sending to our youths.
Personally, I avoid Indy like the plague. The bruises on my bum due to the constent grabbing ruined my one and only experience. The first was cute, the second funny yet the third grab I was screaming for common decency. Women are not walking products to be tried and tested before buying.
It will take small steps for the ‘toolies’ to turn into the adults they are. Until then, to the toolies of 2008, follow these simple rules, limit groping to one hour per day, keep shirt on till at least 2pm, carry one beer at a time and encourage women to just push the boobs up not out.
This may not be perfect but it’s a step in the right direction. The behaviour at Indy will only change when the attitude towards Indy does. No longer can it be seen as an opportunity to act like a complete idiot without any castigation. For now we say goodbye Indy and go back to normal GC life where common decency and self-respect still exists. Now where are those meter maids when you need them?
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