If you’d told me a fortnight ago that I’d be giving the local barista three rolls of toilet paper on my morning walk with my wife, Bridget and our dogs, I’d have thought you were crazy. That’s what I did yesterday.

Fast forward to the afternoon, and I’m running laps at Vic Park footy oval – kicking a ball to myself and struggling to find the motivation to keep going. My phone rings and I speak to someone in footy media.

Standard questions, how are you dealing with everything? What are your plans for the next few weeks? As we chat, it’s clear that she’s been impacted just as much as I have. This rapidly evolving situation has impacted so many lives, not just players, or clubs, or the AFL.

Fox Footy LIVE returns today from 12pm with Anthony Hudson, Dermott Brereton, David King and Mark Robinson. If you miss the show, catch up on Kayo.

Finals Week 1

Let me say this from the start. I don’t think we, as players, are above this. I don’t think we, as an industry, are above this. We’re all in it together.

Here’s my experience of how it’s unfolded.

Sunday, 8th March:

Marsh Rd 2. Pies Vs Saints, Morwell Recreation Reserve.

We got rolled by the Saints. They’re a pretty good mob, and we weren’t at our best, so it was a bit of a disappointing end to the pre-season. But, with community camp on the following two, we took the opportunity and stayed in Traralgon. The club arranged a trivia night and a few drinks to mark the end of pre-season, and the night started on a high with Bucks announcing to the group that Lynden Dunn would be signed as a rookie for the season ahead.

Monday and Tuesday were spent in Warragul and surrounds. Shaking hands, holding babies and running autograph stations or footy clinics. Coronavirus still seemed a world away.

Dan Hannebery gets close to fans after the Saints’ pre-season win over the Magpies. Photo: AAP Image/Rob Prezioso Source: AAP

Wednesday, 11th March:

Season launch, Glasshouse function room at Holden Centre.

Utah Jazz NBA Player, Rudy Gobert, tested positive for COVID-19 and the NBA postponed their season. This may well have been the moment that a lot of footballers took notice of the virus. In my mind, sport had always found a way to transcend what was happening in society around it. Leagues and teams had always found a way to keep going, to push on, and to bring people together. So, the announcement that one of the biggest leagues in the world was on hold made me take notice.

Season launch that night was bizarre. An email was sent to those attending informing them that players would be separated from fans. No selfies, no autographs. We arrived after everyone was seated, and quickly left after guernseys had been presented. As strange as the night felt, it was still special to players presented their jumper for the first time.

Friday, 13th March:

Open (closed) training session, Holden Centre.



Friday the 13th.

Our football department was addressed by the club doctor prior to training. When asked who was experiencing anxiety resulting from the coronavirus situation, roughly 50 per cent of the group raised hands. Mine went up. My anxiety wasn’t about catching the virus and becoming ill. It was about becoming an asymptomatic carrier of the virus and passing it onto a parent, a grandparent, or anyone with a pre-existing condition who could become seriously ill or die. It also seemed like some of the world’s powerhouse countries were being brought to a standstill by this virus.

One week out from Round One, our final main training session before Friday Night Footy was followed by a government announcement. No crowds. How can you play footy without a crowd? It might not be the same, but we’ll find a way. Sport transcends.

Jordan Roughead felt anxious in the lead up to Round One. Photo: Dylan Burns/AFL Photos via Getty Images Source: Getty Images

Saturday, 14th March:

Engagement party, Fitzroy.

A couple of my closest friends were celebrating their recent engagement. They had guests from multiple football clubs, and the night had a strange air. Some of those invited didn’t attend, they’d been told by their club that they weren’t allowed, other guests weren’t there because they had cold and flu type symptoms. Another friend suggested that it might be the night we look back on and say, ‘we probably shouldn’t have gone to that’. I didn’t stay long.

Monday, 16th March:

AFLPA teleconference, Holden Centre.

At this point, there had been a lot of external commentary about how proceeding with the season could negatively impact public health. When the players at the Pies gathered earlier in the day to raise questions and concerns that would be answered during the evening’s teleconference, to be fair, the majority were around the financial impact of not playing, but not solely our personal finances, what it would mean for the club, the league, and the game beyond 2020. We wondered what impact a decision to play would have on attempts to ‘flatten the curve’. The impact on our health as players wasn’t a primary concern.

We reconvened that night on a teleconference the likes of which hadn’t been seen before in the AFL. More than 800 players across the country dialled in. The executive team from the PA sat around the boardroom table and addressed us. The Chief Medical Officer gave us all the government position.

We were told that playing exposed us to not greater risk than going to the supermarket. That the level of risk was deemed to be at an acceptable level. That it was inevitable there would be a break in the season at some point. That a 17-game season would cost the AFL $400 million. That any further loss of games would come at a far greater loss. That AFL spending on programs had been cut; no Auskick, no Community Cup, no grassroots funding. That clubs needed to find $5 million each. And that the position of the AFL was that players should take a 20 per cent pay cut to cover a portion of that loss.

I walked into that meeting thinking that we shouldn’t play, and walked out thinking we absolutely should. We needed to do everything possible keep money coming into the AFL. To support Auskick, to support AFLW, to support the communities on which football has an incredibly positive impact, to give the faithful what they need, and to keep people in jobs.

We were all asked to complete a survey the PA sent out. It was a five question survey about and the results were clear. We wanted to play, we wanted to play that week, we wanted to try to play 22 games, and we were happy to play multiple games of shortened duration each week, in an attempt to get them all in.

Wednesday, 18th March:

Scomo’s announcement & Gil’s press conference.

Even those of us who aren’t great at maths worked it out pretty quickly. Twenty players, plus 30 or so coaches, physios, trainers and staff worked out to less than 100 people. Which meant we could all be in indoor spaces together. And we definitely wouldn’t need 500 people in the stadiums to make the game work. Which meant technically, we could play.

So after training and a tune up, we waited. Waited for Gil to say yes or no. Kind of like Russell Crowe waiting for the Emperor at the end of a battle in Gladiator. Thumbs up, or thumbs down.

Again, on the advice of the experts, Gil gave the thumbs up. We were playing. Sport transcends.

Thursday, 19th March:

Round one. Tigers v Blues. MCG.

The Colosseum was empty. The game was not the same without our fans. Whether you’re cheering or booing, you are a part of what makes it so special. We can never forget that.

Friday, 20th March:

Round one. Magpies v Bulldogs. Marvel Stadium.

Brodie Grundy tells me that his favourite thing about playing in the AFL is running through the banner, turning to run across the top of the 50, and then down toward the goalsquare. To where the loudest, most loyal supporters cheer. To the black and white army. It doesn’t matter what colour the fans are wearing, their players love that moment. And, it’s what the games last weekend missed.

Empty seats at an empty Marvel Stadium. Photo: Dylan Burns/AFL Photos via Getty Images Source: Getty Images

Fortunately for us, the game went according to plan. Beforehand, our GM of football gave us an update from the league. No sharing drink bottles, no high fives, no shaking hands, no hugs, and no post game circle to sing the song. Instinctively, we connect through touch. It’s what we’ve done since we were kids playing local footy. So it was a challenge to connect in different ways, using different senses.

All players talk about it. The hour after the game is the best part of the week. This was different. Strangely, from my perspective, it was better. Our football department people made it better. We walked down the race and into the rooms, where it was raucous. Coaches cheering, trainers hollering, someone banging a table. The song got sung with genuine gusto. We’d connected, everyone in that room, in a different way.

Sunday, 22nd March:

Game review and Gil’s presser.

In aligning with government policies, all our review meetings looked a little bit different. Some were held outside, in the drizzle. Others were held on the netball court, in open space. All were held with 1.5 metres separation between us.

During the day, government announcements came rolling in. Greater restrictions were being implemented, and boarders were closing. We left the building thinking about our upcoming Thursday night meeting with the reigning premiers, but I had a suspicion that following the final game of the round, we’d be called off.

As it turned out, we didn’t have to wait that long. But the fallout since then has been dramatic.

Monday, 23rd March:

Collecting gear, Holden Centre.

I went into the club relatively early. I didn’t sleep well, due mostly to the disappointment of the previous day. The disappointment of having to wait until June to run out again. But, I needed to grab some training gear so I could be ready.

The club was quiet. I saw Sarah Rowe, one of the Irish girls from our AFLW team, who was organising a flight back home. She said she was doing alright, and followed up with ‘see you in October, or maybe never’. That was pretty grim.

As I left, a couple of football department staff and coaches were heading in. I stopped to chat with Matt Boyd, a former teammate and now my line coach. He told me that there was a footy department meeting at 1 o’clock, and an admin staff meeting after following that. Still, it hadn’t really clicked with me what was happening.

I spent most of the afternoon on hold with my bank, trying to get through and talk about the prospect of deferring repayments on my home loan.

In the evening, a message was sent from the club that there would be a meeting at 10am on Tuesday to provide information on what the next 10 weeks might look like. An hour later, another message came from the club stating that we weren’t allowed to come in, so the meeting would be held online.

Tuesday, 24th March:

Zoom meeting, kitchen table.

At 9:50am I logged into the meeting room. The standard logistical nightmare of having 60-odd people in a virtual meeting was apparent. Jack Crisp had his microphone on, so we all had the chance to chat with his daughter, Lilah. She’d just done a wee in the toilet. A little win for the Crisp’s. Trav Varcoe was helping his kids with their homework. Jeremy Howe was showing us all his bulldog, Boris.

The crux of the meeting was this. Ninety per cent of the football department staff had been stood down until the season recommences. That includes assistant coaches, physiotherapists and medical staff, trainers, analysts, player welfare employees, the player chef, academy and development coaches and property stewards. Some of which had been at the club well over 20 years. A skeleton crew of eight people have been charged with running the club until we can all return. This crew consists of Coach, GM, Head of Fitness, Head of Medical, Club Doctor, Head of Player Engagement and Welfare, Head of Strategy and a club psychologist. They’ve got a big job ahead of them.

We were told that training together, even in small groups, was out. We could maybe kick the footy one-on-one with someone, but it would need to be disinfected every few minutes. We couldn’t come into the club to use the gym and fitness equipment, so sent through requests for what equipment we needed to set-up an at home gym. Because while all this is happening, we need to be ready when we are called on.

I’ve been a student as long as I’ve played AFL. It’s one way I like to escape from the all-encompassing nature of being a footballer, by investing in my non-athlete identity. So, I opened up my laptop to do some study that afternoon. I still haven’t done much.

It’s not easy working from home as an athlete. I went for a run up past Collingwood Children’s Farm and sat with the goats for 10 minutes.

Jordan Roughead’s wife Bridget is now working from home. Source: Supplied

Wednesday, 25th March:

Bridge and I are still getting up early to walk the dogs. She’s working from home and I’m annoying her from home. We’ve got a good thing going. The local cafe is doing takeaway coffee, and we want to support them because we know it’s already getting tough for them.

I rearranged the house, in anticipation for the home gym delivery. I was unpacking cookbooks, and found Donna Hay’s No Time to Cook. I laughed and wondered when the sequel comes out. All the Time in the World to Cook.

I had a virtual coffee with a mate from the Kangaroos. He’s doing a few hours a day of work for his mum’s company. We just walked about the prospect of returning in a couple of months, or what it might look like if we don’t get back for a while.

I called and messaged a lot of people who had lost jobs within the industry. I want them to know that I care about what they’re going through, and will support them as best I can during the lay-off. Most of the conversations are pretty real. We all thought the industry was untouchable. We’ve all made financial decisions based on what we thought was coming in, but the speed and enormity with which that has changed has been incredible. People who thought they had great job security in a strong industry have found themselves unexpectedly in line at Centrelink. With one such person, I had one of the genuinely saddest phone calls I’ve ever had. It broke my heart. People around me are desperately sad and have been thrust into a world of uncertainty, but still have mouths to feed and payments to make. The COVID situation has been like a bomb going off within the AFL.

What made these conversations difficult is the connection we have with the staff. They do everything in their power to make us better players on the field, and better people off it. That afternoon, I felt helpless.

Thursday, 26th March:

The morning I gave the barista some loo paper. We hadn’t had much success in getting any on our last few trips to the shops, but lucked out on our morning walk. So, I just thought it was worth seeing if they needed any. He did.

Two of the skeleton crew came over to drop off my gym gear. We had a brief chat, and they told me about the survivors’ guilt that they’re experiencing. It had been rough for everyone. They were in the process of delivering our entire gym all across Melbourne.

One of the small restaurants around the corner had signs up advertising bulk orders for the day. I called my brother and asked if he wanted to buy some for the freezer and went down to pick them up. Observing the social distancing measures all the while. It’s a challenge trying not to go out unless it’s necessary, but knowing that small businesses are still open and trying to survive.

We had another meeting on Zoom in the evening. The appointed leaders in the club convened to talk about how we’re feeling, how to drive motivation within the group and what we can do to help those around us. The difficulty is, as with society at large, that it’s such an unknown. How do we help those around us when we’re really unsure ourselves?

Friday, 27th March:

Each morning, I wake up and check the headlines. I check the general news, and then I check the sport section. AFL players are getting whacked at the moment. We live in a bubble, we’re selfish, and we are losing the PR battle. Really, we just want to know where we stand. At this point, we are returning to play in June. But what if the forecast changes? The prospect of playing up until Christmas to get a season in has been broached, as has the potential to condense the season if the postponement continues. If the league is going to financially suffer as much as predicted, where does that leave guys who are out of contract? Heck, where does that leave guys who are contracted beyond this year? Do the contracts they had signed still apply? Or are they not worth the paper they’re written on?

In hindsight, the lack of information is astounding. And I have to believe that the people in power didn’t have it either. When it was proposed we might need to take a 20 per cent pay cut, it certainly wasn’t mentioned that 75 to 80 per cent of staff within the AFL and the clubs would need to be stood down if the season was paused. Had that been the case initially, I’m sure the conversation between players would have been different.

I don’t really know how this finishes. It’s constantly evolving and as I’m writing, Scomo is holding a press conference. June 1 is my end of the tunnel at the moment, and I’m working towards ensuring I’m ready for it, along with my teammates and colleagues who love this game. I wrote earlier that we can never forget it’s you who make our game great, and maybe that’s the most important lesson in all this. We’re nothing without each other.

Right now, I’ve gotta go and do some study.