How the AFL began the successful South Australian event and what it needs to do next
Sean Gorman
About four weeks after the first Roundup of 2022, I had the strangest controversy of my professional life.
While working for the AFL and living in Perth, I was part of a conference call with around 20 colleagues, glued to the giant TV screen at AFL HQ, to discuss the final details of the AFL’s new extravaganza.
In such meetings leading up to important matches and finals, agendas need to be tight and discussions need to be economical. The meeting chairman – let’s call him Lenny – was keeping the meeting on time as he discussed the numerous issues that needed to be addressed: ticketing, licensing, broadcast, products, Welcome to Country, media packages, etc.
One of the last items on the agenda was the justifications. There were three main areas – Adelaide Oval and Norwood Oblong – and the regional area of Mount Barker, about 45 minutes from Adelaide. That’s when Lenny threw a curveball.
“Okay, Mount Barker,” he said. “Security? Tick. Food and beverage vendor passes? Tick. Ducks? Tick.”
He continued with the checklist for the setting and the virtual group, but I was still processing the… duck reference?
I spoke. “Wait a minute to suffer! Ducks?”
Lenny paused. He seemed disappointed that its flow was being blocked, and explained in detail that Mount Barker had numerous lake systems inhabited by ducks and other wildlife. The AFL had a responsibility to provide excellent ground as an owned playing surface. But with all the mowing and watering of the oval, the grass with its new sprouting was too much for the ducks and kangaroos to resist. It’s like cheap pies from Marvel.
The main problem was that the fauna made the playing surface an occupational health and safety nightmare. For example, broken skin on a player’s knee would be met with duck poop of unknown content. You don’t have to be Doogie Howser to take the photo. Lenny explained that the AFL was using a 24/7 security team in the weeks leading up to the Mount Barker match, such was the detection of local fauna. Jumanji with Sherrins.
As Gather Round enters its fourth year, it’s time for us to celebrate where it is today. A luxuriant cavalcade of epic, eye-watering proportions. According to the South Australian government’s own press release, the economic windfall from the 2025 Roundup weekend amounted to $113.9 million, which is money on steroids. The AFL’s internal projections were that around 30,000 people would meet in Adelaide each day over the four-day competition in 2025. The statistics were haunting me… until it took me an hour to get a coffee and the post-match traffic at Adelaide Oval resembled gridlock in Manhattan.
Gathering Round celebrations should be organized in a way that specifically recognizes what the Gathering Round represents. It was initially suggested that the Gather Round was the AFL’s answer to the NRL’s Magic Round, which was intended to take root in Sydney. But South Australian Premier Peter Malinauskas had two things on hand: cash and the focus and energy of the red cloud kelpie. He won.
No expense was spared at the inaugural Gather Round dinner at Penfolds. A tent with its own postcode, shrimp rolls, 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 are giving way to generosity. And this is where it gets lumpy.
The world the AFL finds itself in in 2026 is barely recognizable compared to the world four years ago.
The Luke Sayers series feels like it has Netflix exclusive written all over it. The league found itself referred to the Royal Commission into antisemitism over its pre-game tributes to the victims of the Bondi terror attack. The number of locals’ games has decreased by 30 percent in five years. And persistent cost-of-living pressures, oil prices and the federal government’s gambling restrictions all have the potential to conspire, like ducks, to harm the AFL.
This brings us to the question: What is the legacy of Gather Round?
Given that the AFL represents the Australian Football League, when can other states enjoy ice cream? By contrast, my home country of Western Australia has the best stadium in the country and we have qualified with a Dreamtime match, a grand final, a State of Origin match and an Indigenous All Stars match. When will we host the Gather Round?
Where does the AFLW fit into all this, and what profit do football’s poorer brethren stand to gain, given that the AFL likes to say football is “a game for everyone”?
Is Gather Round just a cynical response to the NRL and a money grab? How does the AFL or the South Australian government meaningfully address its social license in light of the billion-dollar baby expected to be born from it in 2026?
The question to ask is not what the AFL has done, but what it can do given the love football generates. The money earned from that love cannot be free.
The old formula of bread and circuses has had its day. Just don’t tell the ducks.
