Aussie rugby legend Peter Fitz Simons continues to espouse his views on the new breed of Aussie sportsmen. Gen Y
James Oconner he holds up as the prima donna posterboy that typifies Gen Y Australian sportsmen
"Ditto our Olympians. It started with Lay-Down-Sally in 2004 and has gone on from there.
A bloke with a record like Nick d'Arcy's being picked in the swimming team was bad enough, but the malaise spread much wider than that.
In London, just before the competition was about to start we had, of course, four blokes raising hell late at night and having a Stilnox party. These were blokes that went on to lose by as little as a hundredth of a second.
Unimaginable, only a few years ago. Does anyone want to make the case that they get it, and really do understand that the privilege accorded them of representing Australia, isnot to be trashed by a sense of entitlement that would kill a brown dog? I thought not.
In the cricket, the whole thing appears shot to pieces. Let's face it, the last time they had a victory over a serious Test nation was about three prime ministers, and three or four opposition leaders ago - and counting. There is little sense that the players cherish the baggy green cap, the honour of wearing it, anywhere near as much as the public does, or at least the older generation of that public.
This is surely what Ricky Ponting was referring to this week in the extract from his autobiography, when he referred to cricket's archetype Gen Y, Michael Clarke: 'It never worried me if a bloke didn't want a drink in the dressing room, but I did wonder about blokes who didn't see the value in sticking around for a chat and a laugh and a post-mortem on the day's play ... Pup hardly bought into this tradition for a couple of years and the team noticed ...
The best teammates are the ones who can keep their moods in check for the sake of the group.' Translated, it means despite Clarke's prodigious talent, he was a selfish prat who thought only of himself, and this did not fit in with the team culture that Ponting and his generation cherished. And now Clarke is running the show, we can all see the results. Or lack thereof ...
Tennis? Pat Rafter gets it. Lleyton Hewitt gets it. The Poo obviously never got it, and Bernard Tomic doesn't appear to have the first clue. Both Poo and Tomic the Tank Engine have been reluctant to play for Australia. Unimaginable, during the era of Newcombe, Laver, and so on.
Why is it all so?
One thought I have is that way back when the culture of playing for Australia was set, honour was pretty much the only thing you got out of it ... so you honoured that. The jersey, the cap, the Australian blazer was everything, the stuff of dreams, so for whatever time you had to wear it, of course you gave it absolutely everything you had in you.
These days, a more important consideration is the immense riches on offer in sport, and given that those riches will flow anyway, is it really that important, to bleed to win?
- Sydney Morning Herald
