By Tyler Lewis
The silence is deafening.
After all, it’s the least we can do.
Footy and Anzac Day have been synonymous with each other since Kevin Sheedy pondered the prospect of a game of Australian Rules between powerhouses Collingwood and Essendon almost three decades ago.
But it isn’t really even close to the same, is it?
As if chasing a piece of leather around for two hours could possibly resemble going to war.
The courage the diggers showed storming the beach of Gallipoli on 25 April 1915 – and the bravery current defence force members show – comprehensively over shadows anything that can be accomplished during a Collingwood v Essendon game; an Emerald v Gembrook-Cockatoo game, or a Berwick v Noble Park game.
But shedding the light on the Anzacs through our national sport, telling the heroic stories of our ancestors and collectively standing in silence is the absolute least we can do.
84,205 people gathered at the Melbourne Cricket Ground on Monday afternoon, 70,000 on Sunday night, and only a fraction of that at local games across country over the weekend, but the silence and respect shown in the pre-game ceremonies is all the same.
As the chilling sound of The Last Post echoes across the country before games of football, it’s a brief and absorbing moment where every person is sharing a similar thought; appreciating the Anzacs for providing the opportunity to do something we love with utmost freedom.
And while the footy is a star in the galaxy in comparison to the Anzacs, the players that are privileged enough to play footy on Anzac Day are simply required to dig a little deeper, go a little harder.
The footy cliché ‘have/had to go’ is perhaps the only connection to the footy field and the Anzacs.
The Anzacs ‘had to go’, and when the players that play on Anzac Day are faced with an opportunity to put themselves on the line, they ‘have to go’.
After a tremendous ceremony Nar Nar Goon on Saturday, Kooweerup’s Luke McMaster was faced with a ‘have to go’ moment.
And while it was a moment that in the scheme of things has no relation to the turbulence of war, his decision to sacrifice and potentially worsen himself for the benefit of others is presumably an action that would earn a nod of respect from an Anzac as he winced with pain on his way to the interchange.
It’s those particular moments that are defining.
For the Anzacs, their actions will define and beam through eternity, and on a smaller scale, the performances of footballers in the presence of the Anzacs are career defining.
The ability to step up on the big occasion, seize moments and when given the opportunity – show the Anzac spirit.
What football fan could forget a player with the ability to show Anzac Spirit like a Scott Pendlebury, or seize the mesmeric moment in the driving rain like a David Zaharakis?
It isn’t the same as getting off a boat in Turkey not knowing whether you will step back on it, but as a result of those who represent this country as an Anzac, the football feels bigger than it is.
Because after all; telling the stories, shedding light through football, collectively standing in silence and demonstrating a shred of Anzac spirit, is the least we can do.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
