There are many arguments to do with the origins of Australian football but on one thing all parties agree – the three letters, AFL, play no part whatsoever in the creation of the game. Unlike the deeply underwhelming AFLX, Australian football did not result from highly paid executives sitting around in an office, “brainstorming” ideas. It appeared like rock'n’roll appeared in 1950s America, drawing its force from a series of cultural collisions that ended up creating a game that was fresh and exciting and a unique expression of the land it’s from. Its appeal transcends class, gender, religion and race. Very little transcends class, gender, religion and race.

Why does it do so? Because there is a genius to the game. It demands athleticism of a high order, and pulses with drama. Tom Wills, regarded by some as the founder of Australian football, proposed around the time North Hobart was formed that Geelong and Melbourne Football Clubs go to England and America to spread the game. But it didn’t happen and, in the end, the game flourished in only four places on earth – West Australia, South Australia, Victoria and Tasmania.

The first reason I fell in love with footy as an 11-year-old in Burnie on Tasmania’s north-west coast in the 1960s was because schoolboy footy in that town was so good. Five boys I played with or against went on to play in the VFL/AFL. One was Collingwood legend Johnny Greening. Earlier this year, Burnie, no longer able to raise a team, followed Devonport in withdrawing from the statewide league. I also saw Brent Crosswell play as a schoolboy. Both Greening and Crosswell could have gone No.1 in a national draft, had there been one at the time. I don’t have to tell anyone in Tasmania that the state has had only one AFL draft pick in the past two years. To quote a song from the 1960s, where have all the flowers gone?

Nor do I believe the problems now manifesting in Tasmania are confined to Tasmania. While writing my recent book on the Bulldogs’ 2016 premiership, I asked the then chief recruiter for the Bulldogs, Simon Dalrymple, a simple question: “Is there more talent out there now or less?” He replied, “Less.” I don’t believe the Hawthorn team that won three premierships in a row from 2013 was anywhere near as complete a football team as the Brisbane side that won three in a row 10 years earlier – or, for that matter, the great Hawthorn sides of the 1980s and 1990s. The future of Australian football is precariously placed and I no longer have confidence that the people in charge of the game know what they’re doing.

In February, AFL operative Stephen Hocking told representatives of the AFL clubs that as 65 per cent of the game’s income now comes from broadcasting rights, the broadcaster’s interests had to be considered and that changes would shortly be made to the way the game is telecast. I accept that there is a discussion to be had about the relationship between the broadcaster and the game, but it is a discussion to be had publicly. But the clubs were also told not to talk about the proposed changes to the media. That is, the football public are not to be part of a decision that goes to the essential character of the spectacle.