I wanted to like this book. I actually want to like books about footy, but in the case of Pissants, by former Sydney Swans fringe player, Brandon Jack, I just couldn’t.
Maybe that was the intention of the writer? To compile a cast of characters so shallow and idiotic that their role was to make me dislike them? Or maybe it was an intentional decision to highlight the worst of their personalities; the self-centredness, the culture of low accountability, and the willingness to piss away opportunity?
What amounts to a series of short stories across the season, and presented from multiple points of view, is an exaggerated insight into a professional football club, with a clear emphasis on the more idiotic side of being a professional sportsperson. It’s like a series of Mad Monday events.
Amongst the characters, Stick, Fangs, Squidman, and Shaggers (everyone has a nickname, which is something that does ring true around footy clubs), are all trying to get a game, but rarely succeeding. So, instead of knuckling down and doing what they need to do to crack a game in the firsts, what do they do?
They act like clowns and hit both the piss and whatever pills they can find, as they meander through their lives as ressies players.
I am sure Jack’s experience as a fringe player, himself, provided him a wealth of material to work with, but this strikes me as only the worst aspects of each individual telling part of their tale. Little attention is paid to anything positive going on in their lives. It’s actually a little depressing.
Some of the chapters are completely skippable. I didn’t, because I felt I had to read them, but the fact I wanted to probably gives an insight as to how little the book grabbed me.
Many of you reading this review would have played local footy – this book encapsulates playing alongside the worst blokes you’ve ever played with.
And combining them into one book.
There is some depth to a couple of characters revealed along the way, with sections on a retired player trekking through Europe providing something different, as he trawls his ex-girlfriend’s Instagram, and breaks down in tears about her. Of course, his inability to comprehend that he, overseas and sleeping with others, will not likely see him back in her good books anytime soon, so again, the hard-to-like factor comes into the equation. In a book that has no real story, that amount of depth comes across as knee-deep – a backdrop to the next episode of idiocy back home.
I’m sure literary types will find a way to praise it, as it is a way of shining a light on the toxic masculinity in footy, or some shit like that. Men = bad. Playing footy = a misogynistic exploit. Footy players = drunk, drug addicts.
However, really, I just wanted a good footy story, and this book failed to deliver it.
Jack is a decent writer. He does get a bit bogged down in descriptive verse in places, as though he fancies himself as someone who sees things others simply don’t, but I found that to be padding in chapters and little more. Was it an attempt to make up for a lack of substance in both the story (again, there isn’t much of one) and the characters? I don’t know, but it failed to engage me.
You know when you finish a book, and it feels like you’ve had to work to do it? I shouldn’t have felt this way in reading this book – I love footy!
But I did.
It became a bit of a chore, and to me, that tells you all you need to know.
In terms of the actions of the players, I’ve seen just as bad at local footy clubs. Hell, given what I read in this book, I’ve seen worse, so if it was shock value the book was supposed to deliver, I may be the wrong audience. And that’s a shame, because a book about footy should have me – someone who’ll actually buy it – as the key demographic!
If you’re looking for a balanced, well-told book about footy, this one probably isn’t the one you’re after.
That said, if you want an insight into the childishness some players a step below the top level will indulge in because they have their names on an AFL list, then give it a try.
Coke, booze, women, accidentally killing a former teammate’s dog and dumping it in a wheelie bin… you might get a kick out of it.
In a five-star system, it scrapes in at a 2.5 from me.
As always, massive thanks to those who support this work. You can see the amount of care that goes into it. I love footy, I love writing about it, and I hope you enjoy reading it. Without you, this whole thing falls over. Sincerely… thank you – HB
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