Ugly links between AFL and gambling agencies

If you missed it InheritanceAs for Kendall Roy and his knack for spewing corporate gibberish, your desires may have been partially quenched by the recent appointment of Gillon McLachlan as managing director and CEO of Tabcorp – and his framing of the announcement in deliciously cheeky nonsense.

Former AFL boss and pompous Master of the Universe McLachlan encouraged commercial deals between the league and gambling companies during his decade as CEO – an enthusiasm that resulted in the game being saturated with betting ads, and fan surveys have shown growing irritation with their repulsive omnipresence.

The AFL Supporters’ Association, which conducted the survey, said in 2023: “While there is some awareness of the need for responsible gambling and the right of fans to bet on AFL if they wish to do so, there is clear agreement that the scale of gambling advertising is morally inappropriate and should be banned because of its social and family consequences.”

This saturation and public concern about it was enough to inspire a parliamentary inquiry in 2022 that found “overwhelming” evidence of social harm.

Gambling companies have produced statements suggesting their tender self-reflection: “Australian families should be able to watch live sport without being bombarded with gambling adverts,” said Tabcorp’s previous chief executive, Adam Rytenskild.

Dear reader, I left a thread hanging. Let me return to McLachlan’s words following his appointment as Tabcorp CEO two weeks ago – but brace yourself: Kendall will either feel queasy or nostalgic. “Tabcorp is a betting, broadcasting and integrity services company, and the challenges of growing it are tempting,” he said. “It’s about creating entertainment for our customers in a safe way and delivering a unique omnichannel entertainment offering to customers across digital, retail and media.”

It’s extraordinary, in its own way, a meeting of arrogance and emptiness. “Words are just, huh?” Kendall Roy asked. “Nothing. Complicated airflow.”

Last year, while still in charge of the AFL, McLachlan appeared before the Senate inquiry committee into online gambling. “We will continue to do our job, but you ask whether wagering revenues will be replaced,” he said. “Again, I’m not trying to be argumentative, but I don’t think — no. That’s a question and I’m just trying to answer it… We’re not denying the fact that this is a timely review, but one factor that needs to be considered is the impact on nonprofit revenue. So I felt the need to make it clear.”

In case you missed it, McLachlan subtly hinted at the financial vulnerability of the AFL – as a “not-for-profit” organisation – if it were forced to cut its gambling revenues. McLachlan said “not-for-profit” so often that if you had no idea who Gillon McLachlan was, you might have thought he ran Save the Children rather than a cultural and financial colossus.

“Do we choose to work with our partners, with our betting providers? Yes, we do,” McLachlan said. “We do it for the reasons that I talked about in detail, which is that without us it wouldn’t be possible and so the money that we receive we reinvest. We’re a nonprofit, so we think it’s a benefit to the community. We also like to have relationships with our betting partners so that we can influence the types of bets, have access to information and protect the integrity of our competition.

The summary of McLachlan’s testimony was as follows: trust me. The AFL is a virtuous non-profit organization that invests a portion of its golden rivers of gambling revenues in alleviating problem gambling – and beyond. Without the AFL’s charitable investments and the financial management that allows them to do so, society would be a colder, poorer and sadder place. Let us not refuse the financial support that in turn supports the “community.”

But wasn’t there something odd and unconscious about the fact that this source of income was so problematic that a percentage of it was earmarked to help those affected? When McLachlan confidently spoke of “balance,” he was really describing an unholy vicious circle.

In 2013, McLachlan’s predecessor as AFL chief executive, Andrew Demetriou, opened the season with a maudlin and pompous speech: “2013 is our chance to do great things for our game, to reset the foundations that have been shaken and to redirect our destiny towards new results, new successes and new pride,” he said. “2013 is the year we remind everyone that Australian football is the greatest game – it is authentic, beautiful, eternal and ours.”

The following year, Demetriou did something authentic and beautiful, he joined Crown Resorts – a hive of laundered drug money and outrageous indifference to legal obligations. Crown Chairman James Packer welcomed the appointment: “Andrew brings to the Crown Resorts board his extensive experience of managing a complex organization, including dealing with multiple stakeholders, as well as an excellent understanding of the Australian consumer and media.”

Well, sure. And then, seven years later, former NSW Supreme Court Justice Patricia Bergin, after conducting an investigation into the company, found it unfit to hold a gaming licence. She found an arrogant and reckless culture and “the stark reality for Crown is that it failed to protect its casino operations from criminal exploitation”.

Demetriou gave way to bitterness and indignation, slamming Bergin’s “unfair” criticism.

Since leaving the AFL, Demetriou has demonstrated his “excellent understanding of Australian consumers and media” beyond Crown. I suppose it would be inappropriate, even selfish, to hide your observations from others. Unsurprisingly, Demetriou became a promiscuous board member.

About Gandhi, George Orwell wrote that saints should be considered guilty until proven innocent. I have a similar rule for those public figures who have never seen a corporate board they didn’t want to join.

In public life, we want to have people who, after leaving work, are too busy gardening or cooking for their families to be able to continue building their status and employ media agencies that would convince us all that they are not so dependent on maintaining influence.

But this is the game: win over influential circles, remember their names and numbers, and transform your superficial self-esteem into an appearance of virtuous authority – such talents are required in the world of sports administration and later attracting profitable sinecures.

Public life attracts weirdos – and they have a habit of maintaining their influence. Andrew Demetriou has always struck me as a balanced man because he has something on both shoulders. Unlike his successor, Demetriou was not born into wealth and always seemed intent on humiliating former doubters with his ruthless advancement. He was abrasive and self-centered, but much of our public life is influenced by the private psychodramas of stubborn and unimaginative men.

Reminder: The AFL is beloved and culturally embedded, and there is no shortage of people who could serve as its custodians. Our media has a habit of obscuring the administrators of our great cultural institutions, or at least confirming their conceit, when it is the institutions themselves that possess the real authority and distinction.

Either way, Gillon McLachlan now heads Tabcorp. It’s both darkly funny and unsurprising, and proof that he inhabits a cozy, well-endowed ecosystem. This is how it goes. But that’s not to say that some of us didn’t notice the obvious: two previous AFL bosses – whose tenures spanned almost a century – immediately moved on to gaming companies.

If these public figures possess rare will and intellect – defined by a clear commitment to the public good, as we are constantly told – then it is curious that they almost always give themselves back to the pathetic industry that previously sponsored them. Taken together, the biographies of our titans of public life resemble a human centipede.

RELATED READING

Sport

The complexity of controlling recreational drug use in sport

Martin McKenzie-Murray

Although Andrew Wilkie’s recent speech in Parliament suggests that the AFL is pursuing a secret and dangerous policy designed to conceal drug use among players, public outrage is overblown.