And there's something to be said for it. Both codes provided a great number of troops who served at Gallipoli and across Europe, many of whom were never to return. Collingwood lost six players, Essendon seven. So these clubs' own histories add to the solemnity of Anzac commemorations. Yet something is missing in these memorialisations. Many things in fact. Whole segments of a bloody and divided story are left out of the tale we are usually told. We were not a nation united in support of Britain's prosecution of the First World War. Many Australians were set against it. The voting patterns in the conscription referendums, first in 1916 (the ''Yes'' vote lost narrowly) and again in 1917 (''Yes'' lost by a wider margin) make it clear that most Australians were against conscription. Many of them would have also been against the war. Opponents to conscription came from many quarters. Catholics, republicans, the Irish, socialists, unionists and pacifists all had reason to be anti-war and anti-conscription. And they came together as a united force. The ANZAC Day Commemoration Committee of Queensland website claims: ''One reason why so many opposed conscription was that it provided a focus for a lot of different points of view about the war. Some people opposed the war; others were opposed to conscription as a principle; others were saying that they were hurt by the economic situation of the war, and were protesting against that; still others were voting to protect unionism; others were protesting at the British treatment of the rebels in Ireland. Normally these people might not have agreed with each other on many things, but they all agreed on the conscription question, and the issue gave them all a chance to express their opposition.''

As Melbourne's dominant sporting code, Australian rules football reflected that diversity and opposition. One of the leading figures in the anti-conscription movement, Cardinal Daniel Mannix, happened to be a cultural and spiritual powerbroker within the Irish-Catholic community of Collingwood and his opinions and instructions carried great weight for many supporters of the Collingwood Football Club. He came increasingly to speak out against the war and conscription, especially after the Irish Easter Rising of 1916. While Mannix's influence was counterbalanced by Collingwood Football Club patron John Wren's support for conscription, this tension underlines the point that there was little collective sense of unity of purpose in relation to the war. The problem of the contemporary remembering of Anzac is that the narrative it drives is wrong, one of an already united nation forging its identity on a Turkish beach. When we see the Collingwood and Essendon players lining up before the clash we are led to see them in unity, as different factions of one overarching national brotherhood. We are encouraged to believe in a myth. A mature and sophisticated Anzac Day footy narrative would see the teams as representing divergent positions across the Catholic/Protestant, republican/imperial divides. It would tell stories of both protest and loyalty. We would be asked as viewers/spectators to reflect on how diverse and antagonistic communities came to see themselves as united (or not) through the sacrifices made in war. It might even encourage the radical idea that our presently diverse and divided communities are similarly capable of establishing symbols of unity. Nowhere does the myth as it stands acknowledge that at the time of the Gallipoli landing many Collingwood supporters (and supporters from many of the Catholic inner-city football clubs in Melbourne and Sydney) would have been very strongly against what they saw as the British imperialist war. Nor does the myth reveal the fact that the Australian Imperial Force was largely made up of Protestant soldiers. The embarkation lists in 1914-15 indicate that a small percentage were Catholic. In the three nominal rolls I looked at, about 12 per cent of the initial enlistments were Catholics. Maybe I got a bad sample. But I don't think so.

Another point lost in the telling of Anzac is that between 20 and 25 per cent of troops in the very first Australian troop ships were British born, many of them recently arrived migrants. (Now revisit a crucial vehicle in the rebuilding of the legend, Peter Weir's Gallipoli and see if the soldiers' accents reflect that statistic.) The first to fall at Gallipoli (from the 11th Battalion) were in about equal measure Australian and non-Australian born. If it is important to commemorate Anzac Day, then it is important that we remember it well and not just via slick commercialised performances. We should remember it in as much detail as we are able. We need to remember who was there, who wasn't, why they were there and why many refused. Until the commemorations do this they will remain evasive moments of myth-making. We need to remember all, or nothing. Ian Syson teaches literary studies and professional writing at Victoria University. He is researching the history of the football codes in Australia.