Sean Gorman
About four weeks out from the very first Gather Round in 2022, I had the strangest discussion of my professional life.
Working for the AFL and living in Perth, I was part of a conference call with about 20 other colleagues, locked onto the monster TV screen at AFL HQ, to discuss the final details for the AFL’s new extravaganza.
In meetings like this, in the lead-up to marquee games and finals, the agendas need to be tight and discussion economic. The chair of the meeting – let’s call him Lenny – was keeping the meeting to time as we discussed the myriad issues that needed addressing: ticketing, licensing, broadcast, merchandise, Welcomes to Country, media packs, etc.
One of the last items on the agenda was grounds. There were three primary grounds – Adelaide Oval and the Norwood Oblong – and the regional ground of Mount Barker, some 45 minutes from Adelaide. That was when Lenny threw in a curveball.
“OK, Mount Barker,” he said. “Security? Tick. Food and beverage vendor passes? Tick. Ducks? Tick.”
He continued on with the checklist to the ambient and virtual group, but I was still processing the … duck reference?
I spoke up. “Hang on a suffering-succotash-minute! Ducks?”
Lenny paused. He looked frustrated his flow had been stymied, and explained in detail that there were numerous lake systems around the ground at Mount Barker, where ducks and other wild animals thrived. The AFL had a responsibility to provide a ground that was up to scratch as a playing surface, which it had. But with all the mowing and watering of the oval, the new sprouting, grass was too much for the ducks and kangaroos to resist. Like cheap pies at Marvel.
The primary issue was the scat from the fauna making the playing surface an occupational health and safety nightmare. Say, for example, the broken skin of a player’s knee was to meet with the unknown content of duck poo. You don’t need to be Doogie Howser to get the picture. Lenny explained that the AFL had employed a security detail to operate 24-7 in the weeks leading into the Mount Barker game, such was the determination of the local fauna. Jumanji with Sherrins.
As Gather Round moves into its fourth year, it is timely that we celebrate what it has become. A cornucopian cavalcade of epic, eye-watering proportions. From the South Australian government’s own press release, the total economic windfall from the 2025 Gather Round weekend equated to $113.9 million – making bank on steroids. The AFL’s internal projections were that across the four days of competition in 2025, some 30,000 people would converge on Adelaide each day. The stats washed over me … until the day it took me an hour to get a coffee, and traffic post-game from Adelaide Oval resembled Manhattan gridlock.
The celebration of Gather Round must be tempered to understand specifically what, if anything, Gather Round represents. Originally, it was suggested that Gather Round was the AFL’s answer to the NRL’s Magic Round, intended to take root in Sydney. But South Australian Premier Peter Malinauskas had two things: cash, and the focus and energy of a red cloud kelpie. He won.
At the inaugural Gather Round dinner at Penfolds, no expense was spared. A marquee that had its own postcode, prawn roll thingies, flower arrangements the size of Aaron Sandilands, Guy Sebastian on stage, “Baby Grange” on tap. Who was paying? Nobody cared, including me. The barren years of COVID were giving way to largesse. And this is where it gets lumpy.
In 2026, the world the AFL finds itself in is barely recognisable to that of four years ago.
The Luke Sayers drama feels like it has Netflix special written all over it. The league found itself referred to the Royal Commission into antisemitism for the events of a pre-game tribute to the Bondi terror attack victims. Indigenous playing numbers are down 30 per cent in five years. And the continual cost of living pressures, petrol prices and the federal government’s gambling restrictions all have the potential to conspire, like the ducks, to hurt the AFL.
Which brings us to the question: what is the legacy of Gather Round?
Given the AFL stands for the Australian Football League, when can other states get a lick of the ice cream? If anything, my home state, Western Australia, has the best stadium in the land, and we’ve auditioned with a Dreamtime game, a grand final, a State of Origin clash and an Indigenous All Stars match. When do we get a go at hosting Gather Round?
Where is the AFLW in all of this and what dividend, if any, do football’s poorer siblings receive given the AFL likes to say it is “a game for everyone”?
Is Gather Round just a cynical retort to the NRL and a cash grab? How does the AFL or the South Australian government handle its social licence meaningfully in light of the billion-dollar baby expected to be born out of this in 2026?
The question that needs to be asked is not what the AFL has done, but what can it do, given the love football generates. The money that is made from that love cannot be unrequited.
The old formula of bread and circuses has had its day. Just don’t tell the ducks.
