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The failings of 'membership'
By Josh Massoud | December 13, 2008
THERE'S a single-sentence sliver of Commonwealth legislation that packs quite a punch for its abbreviated size.
Section 52(a) of the Trade Practices Act prevents companies from engaging in conduct that is likely to mislead or decieve the public. Your honour, I would like to humbly submit that almost every NRL club be found guilty of breaking this crucial law.
My case is simple. In the past two seasons, the NRL has pursued an aggressive MEMBERSHIP campaign on behalf of the clubs. But what is actually being peddled is nothing of the sort.
Because when a fan buys the type of MEMBERSHIP advertised by the NRL, they don't become a MEMBER of their club.
They become a season ticket holder.
These are two very different things.
One entitles you - either immediately or within a given period of time - to a say in how your club is run. It entitles you to a vote, and with it comes a unit of power that keeps those in charge accountable.
This is a real MEMBERSHIP.
The other entitles you to a seat at the football. It might be cushioned, it might be corporate, it might be on halfway - but no matter how good the seat, it carries no more weight than the butt that occupies it 12 times a year.
There is no vote with a season ticket, there is no say.
Yet the NRL continue to masquerade them as MEMBERSHIPS. This would be fine if clubs offered football club memberships - and voting rights - with the ticketing packages.
But they hardly ever do. Instead, they gnaw away at the heartstrings of fans, harping on about uncertain economic climates and loyalty. The message to the fan is: we need you to be part of our team. To get on board. To be a MEMBER.
So the fan pays up and gets their season ticket, their key ring, their bumper sticker, their NRL troll doll. But then when the time comes for them to have a say they get ... nothing.
Why don't clubs include real memberships - voting rights - with the purchase of a season ticket? hat have the directors and chairman got to lose?
Surely it couldn't be their positions on the board, could it?
For any incumbent who is determined to stay in power, there's no worse enemy than a bigger constiuency. Harder to control - more people to keep happy.
So the toadies quietly celebrate the fact their football club boasts an appallingly-low memberships of a couple of hundred people.
Parramatta, one of the most popular NRL outfits, has 669 voting members. What a joke. To their credit, Parramatta doesn't misrepresent season tickets as memberships on its official website.
Then again, becoming a football club member is harder than joining the local branch of the Freemasons. There's no details. No phone number. No down-loadable PDF application form.
So it's not hard to work out why people like Colin Love, the ARL chairman, is an Eels voting member but John Ryan, the Parramatta Jesus who spends his hard-earned teacher's wage travelling to away matches Interestate, is not.
Who do you reckon is more deserving of a say at tomorrow's election?
By Josh Massoud | December 13, 2008
THERE'S a single-sentence sliver of Commonwealth legislation that packs quite a punch for its abbreviated size.
Section 52(a) of the Trade Practices Act prevents companies from engaging in conduct that is likely to mislead or decieve the public. Your honour, I would like to humbly submit that almost every NRL club be found guilty of breaking this crucial law.
My case is simple. In the past two seasons, the NRL has pursued an aggressive MEMBERSHIP campaign on behalf of the clubs. But what is actually being peddled is nothing of the sort.
Because when a fan buys the type of MEMBERSHIP advertised by the NRL, they don't become a MEMBER of their club.
They become a season ticket holder.
These are two very different things.
One entitles you - either immediately or within a given period of time - to a say in how your club is run. It entitles you to a vote, and with it comes a unit of power that keeps those in charge accountable.
This is a real MEMBERSHIP.
The other entitles you to a seat at the football. It might be cushioned, it might be corporate, it might be on halfway - but no matter how good the seat, it carries no more weight than the butt that occupies it 12 times a year.
There is no vote with a season ticket, there is no say.
Yet the NRL continue to masquerade them as MEMBERSHIPS. This would be fine if clubs offered football club memberships - and voting rights - with the ticketing packages.
But they hardly ever do. Instead, they gnaw away at the heartstrings of fans, harping on about uncertain economic climates and loyalty. The message to the fan is: we need you to be part of our team. To get on board. To be a MEMBER.
So the fan pays up and gets their season ticket, their key ring, their bumper sticker, their NRL troll doll. But then when the time comes for them to have a say they get ... nothing.
Why don't clubs include real memberships - voting rights - with the purchase of a season ticket? hat have the directors and chairman got to lose?
Surely it couldn't be their positions on the board, could it?
For any incumbent who is determined to stay in power, there's no worse enemy than a bigger constiuency. Harder to control - more people to keep happy.
So the toadies quietly celebrate the fact their football club boasts an appallingly-low memberships of a couple of hundred people.
Parramatta, one of the most popular NRL outfits, has 669 voting members. What a joke. To their credit, Parramatta doesn't misrepresent season tickets as memberships on its official website.
Then again, becoming a football club member is harder than joining the local branch of the Freemasons. There's no details. No phone number. No down-loadable PDF application form.
So it's not hard to work out why people like Colin Love, the ARL chairman, is an Eels voting member but John Ryan, the Parramatta Jesus who spends his hard-earned teacher's wage travelling to away matches Interestate, is not.
Who do you reckon is more deserving of a say at tomorrow's election?
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