WHEN Sporting Declaration was talking with Professional Footballers Association chief executive Adam Vivian during the week, I posed a question that was largely hypothetical.
‘‘At what point would they consider going on strike?’’ I asked, referring, of course, to long-suffering players at the Newcastle Jets.
Vivian’s response was fairly predictable, given that since the A-League kicked off 10 seasons ago, there have been a variety of cases of players being treated unacceptably, not just at the Jets but across the competition.
Not once have players responded by withdrawing their labour en masse.
‘‘The players know there are ramifications for that kind of action,’’ Vivian said.
‘‘It’s not something we’re going to investigate in the first instance.
‘‘What we would probably consider in the immediate future would be to look to Football Federation Australia to intervene in these circumstances, as custodians of the game and in the best interest of good governance of the game, to ensure that the interests and provisions of the players are protected.
‘‘Rather than going down the path of industrial action, we’d certainly go down the path of seeking the assistance of FFA and asking them to intervene.’’
Strikes by Australian professional sporting outfits, of course, are virtually unheard of.
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Super League-aligned teams boycotted the first round of the 1996 Australian Rugby League season before being ordered to return to the field by the Federal Court.
Australia’s Test cricketers used the ‘‘s’’ word regularly in the late 1990s, leveraging the powers-that-be to improve the pay of Sheffield Shield players under the terms of their collective-bargaining agreement.
More recently Essendon players have indicated they will refuse to play in this year’s pre-season NAB Challenge games unless the AFL guarantees to backdate any anti-doping suspensions to September.
Other than those instances, I can’t recall strike action being taken by a collective group of athletes Down Under.
In the US, however, there have been strikes involving Major League baseballers and several NBA basketball ‘‘lockouts’’, most of which have centred around multimillionaire players seeking even higher wages.
In Australia, unions such as the PFA prefer to avoid confrontation, perhaps because they have alternative dispute-resolution options that are effective.
If PFA can prove a club has not upheld its obligations to an employee or employees, it can call on the resources of FFA and even FIFA to impose appropriate sanctions.
Jets owner Nathan Tinkler may think he can treat unwanted players and staff with contempt, but history suggests he will not beat the system.
Certainly Newcastle’s players appear entitled to be disgruntled with their working conditions.
They are collectively owed hundreds of thousands of dollars in overdue superannuation.
Five of their teammates and three of the coaching staff were sacked without notice.
The five disenfranchised players have been unable to move on with their lives, after PFA advice not to sign termination papers that apparently do not guarantee all their entitlements. So they continue to train with the club even though they are considered no chance of playing.
The remaining players, who would not be human if they were not at least slightly demoralised, face the unenviable task of playing another 11 games this season with a depleted, inexperienced roster.
It would seem some of them have little faith in their boss, rookie coach Phil Stubbins.
If this was any other unionised industry, the prospect of stop-work meetings, and ultimately downing tools, would presumably have been raised long ago.
In almost 30 years as a journalist, yours truly has been on strike more times than I can remember.
Recently such action has seemed fairly futile, in terms of what it achieved, but nonetheless inherently satisfying.
It would be unprecedented and inconceivable, especially given Newcastle’s players are following the PFA’s advice.
But imagine if the Jets walked out for Saturday night’s clash with Western Sydney, shook hands with the opposition, then sat down on the sidelines, refusing to play.
Even if it was only a five-minute protest, it would send a united, defiant message that would be noted around the world and remembered for years.
A whole new ball game, so to speak.
