Let me preface this letter by saying I’m not calling for anyone’s head.
This is a letter of the heart.
I grew up in Kiama and now reside in Wollongong, yet the Canterbury Bankstown Bulldogs are my team. Why? Family.
My Nan was a Bulldog. She grew up in Enfield and lived in Greenacre until the day she died. She took her children and grandchildren to Belmore to watch the boys play. She was buried with blue and white flowers adorning her coffin.
Nan and I were very close. She was a kick arse woman who I miss dearly. When I go to games I feel close to her. On my way to the stadium I drive through the streets she used to walk down. I’ve never lived in the area, but when I’m there I think of her and I feel like a part of me is home.
I know she’d be proud of me for supporting her Bulldogs. If she were still here today I know she’d be sitting with us in the Army, swearing loudly and mispronouncing players’ names.
Family, though, is more than just bloodlines. I now have another family: the Bulldogs Army. It doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from; when you’re in the Army you’re united. You feel your spirits soar together after a win and you take the kick in the guts of a loss as one.
And the Bulldogs are our family. When we’re at a game we feel like we’re a part of something. No matter what’s going on in our lives, for 80 minutes a week it’s forgotten, and we’re right there with the 17 men on the field. They play for us and they play for each other. Family.
Except lately it doesn’t feel that way.
For reasons I can’t comprehend, it feels as though it all matters more to us than it does to the guys on the field. It feels as though all the heart and pride that came from being a Bulldog has been drained from our team.
Take St George for example: I used to feel indifferent toward them. They were just another opposition I wanted to beat. Then came round 10, 2009, Kogarah. Idris crossed the line in the dying minutes of an 80 minute arm wrestle. Looking around the ground, all I could see were blue and white people, jumping up and down and embracing. The players ran over in front of the Army and pumped their fists in the air. Pure elation.
Then it was taken away.
The video ref called no try and ripped our hearts out in the process. Ever since that day we have despised St George. They’re no longer a team we want to beat; they’re a team we want to demolish. St George robbed us of a win and stole our minor premiership. We’ve called for blood ever since. But where is our team?
They have not avenged this loss. In every game since we’ve effectively bent over for St George. Where’s the heart? Where’s the pride? Smashing St George means SO much to the Bulldogs fans. Why doesn’t the team understand this? Why don’t they feel the same way?
Is it because they don’t care? Is it because we’ve bought so many players since that they simply don’t get it because they weren’t there?
I spend a lot of my time talking Bulldogs with a lot of passionate supporters. The common theme arising from our conversations is that we can’t identify with our team anymore. The Bulldogs were once synonymous with aggression, pride and strength in the face of adversity. Steve Folkes spoke recently about the “us against the world” mentality. No matter what was thrown at us, both on-field and off, it couldn’t defeat us. Why? Because we were the Bulldogs: a successful team with a rich and proud history.
Oppositions feared playing us. They dreaded their upcoming games against us. Now I can only assume they look forward to the 2 competition points gifted to them.
I watch footage from old games and I can see the hunger to win oozing from the players. They ran hard, hit harder and backed each other. Their energy was contagious. I urge you to watch some of these old games and ask yourself, when was the last time you saw us play with that amount of heart and passion?
I understand the desire to recruit “nice guys”. We made the headlines for the wrong reasons and it cost us financially. We have sponsors to please and an image to sell, but how long can you maintain a happy sponsor relationship as their exposure dwindles due to an underachieving team?
I know you’re an astute leader, but you must never take for granted the willingness for people to part with their hard-earned for you. We battle the traffic, pay our $20 to park, pay to wear your merchandise, pay for our memberships or gate tickets, sit in the cold and then battle the traffic on the way home. At some point we have to ask, why bother for an insipid display from our team? Why spend money we worked hard for when the team gives the impression that it’s not appreciated?
At some point we lost our way. Perhaps the influx of new players meant that the Bulldogs mentality was never learnt. Yes, we need to maintain a healthy image, but not at the expense of passion. We need to find the balance between good guys off-field and passionate players on-field who can harness competitive nature and aggression and turn it into a weapon against our oppositions. This is what the fans are crying out for.
Our players need to know who we are and where we come from. They need to know who our greatest rivals are and why. They need to know what it means to be a Bulldog, what it meant to the past champions of our club and what it means to the supporters. They need to appreciate that it is a privilege to play for a club with such a rich and proud history, and for fans whose passion cannot be rivalled in the NRL. They need to know that they are playing for us and for their brothers on the field. For their family.
I write to you today to implore you to restore the Bulldogs culture. Our identity needs to be instilled in every player who walks out onto that field in the blue and white. Until this happens I fear it’ll be more of the same. 17 men dressed in blue and white, but no one wearing it.
Yours sincerely,
Anna Barwell
This is a letter of the heart.
I grew up in Kiama and now reside in Wollongong, yet the Canterbury Bankstown Bulldogs are my team. Why? Family.
My Nan was a Bulldog. She grew up in Enfield and lived in Greenacre until the day she died. She took her children and grandchildren to Belmore to watch the boys play. She was buried with blue and white flowers adorning her coffin.
Nan and I were very close. She was a kick arse woman who I miss dearly. When I go to games I feel close to her. On my way to the stadium I drive through the streets she used to walk down. I’ve never lived in the area, but when I’m there I think of her and I feel like a part of me is home.
I know she’d be proud of me for supporting her Bulldogs. If she were still here today I know she’d be sitting with us in the Army, swearing loudly and mispronouncing players’ names.
Family, though, is more than just bloodlines. I now have another family: the Bulldogs Army. It doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from; when you’re in the Army you’re united. You feel your spirits soar together after a win and you take the kick in the guts of a loss as one.
And the Bulldogs are our family. When we’re at a game we feel like we’re a part of something. No matter what’s going on in our lives, for 80 minutes a week it’s forgotten, and we’re right there with the 17 men on the field. They play for us and they play for each other. Family.
Except lately it doesn’t feel that way.
For reasons I can’t comprehend, it feels as though it all matters more to us than it does to the guys on the field. It feels as though all the heart and pride that came from being a Bulldog has been drained from our team.
Take St George for example: I used to feel indifferent toward them. They were just another opposition I wanted to beat. Then came round 10, 2009, Kogarah. Idris crossed the line in the dying minutes of an 80 minute arm wrestle. Looking around the ground, all I could see were blue and white people, jumping up and down and embracing. The players ran over in front of the Army and pumped their fists in the air. Pure elation.
Then it was taken away.
The video ref called no try and ripped our hearts out in the process. Ever since that day we have despised St George. They’re no longer a team we want to beat; they’re a team we want to demolish. St George robbed us of a win and stole our minor premiership. We’ve called for blood ever since. But where is our team?
They have not avenged this loss. In every game since we’ve effectively bent over for St George. Where’s the heart? Where’s the pride? Smashing St George means SO much to the Bulldogs fans. Why doesn’t the team understand this? Why don’t they feel the same way?
Is it because they don’t care? Is it because we’ve bought so many players since that they simply don’t get it because they weren’t there?
I spend a lot of my time talking Bulldogs with a lot of passionate supporters. The common theme arising from our conversations is that we can’t identify with our team anymore. The Bulldogs were once synonymous with aggression, pride and strength in the face of adversity. Steve Folkes spoke recently about the “us against the world” mentality. No matter what was thrown at us, both on-field and off, it couldn’t defeat us. Why? Because we were the Bulldogs: a successful team with a rich and proud history.
Oppositions feared playing us. They dreaded their upcoming games against us. Now I can only assume they look forward to the 2 competition points gifted to them.
I watch footage from old games and I can see the hunger to win oozing from the players. They ran hard, hit harder and backed each other. Their energy was contagious. I urge you to watch some of these old games and ask yourself, when was the last time you saw us play with that amount of heart and passion?
I understand the desire to recruit “nice guys”. We made the headlines for the wrong reasons and it cost us financially. We have sponsors to please and an image to sell, but how long can you maintain a happy sponsor relationship as their exposure dwindles due to an underachieving team?
I know you’re an astute leader, but you must never take for granted the willingness for people to part with their hard-earned for you. We battle the traffic, pay our $20 to park, pay to wear your merchandise, pay for our memberships or gate tickets, sit in the cold and then battle the traffic on the way home. At some point we have to ask, why bother for an insipid display from our team? Why spend money we worked hard for when the team gives the impression that it’s not appreciated?
At some point we lost our way. Perhaps the influx of new players meant that the Bulldogs mentality was never learnt. Yes, we need to maintain a healthy image, but not at the expense of passion. We need to find the balance between good guys off-field and passionate players on-field who can harness competitive nature and aggression and turn it into a weapon against our oppositions. This is what the fans are crying out for.
Our players need to know who we are and where we come from. They need to know who our greatest rivals are and why. They need to know what it means to be a Bulldog, what it meant to the past champions of our club and what it means to the supporters. They need to appreciate that it is a privilege to play for a club with such a rich and proud history, and for fans whose passion cannot be rivalled in the NRL. They need to know that they are playing for us and for their brothers on the field. For their family.
I write to you today to implore you to restore the Bulldogs culture. Our identity needs to be instilled in every player who walks out onto that field in the blue and white. Until this happens I fear it’ll be more of the same. 17 men dressed in blue and white, but no one wearing it.
Yours sincerely,
Anna Barwell
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