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This from Marie Claire Magazine. http://au.lifestyle.yahoo.com/b/mar...s-why-do-we-let-them-play-by-different-rules/
n February 2005, 22-year-old Jess* and two of her friends partied with a group of muscular young men in a packed nightclub in Sydney's Kings Cross. As Jess, a slender blonde, chatted and flirted with one of the men, she realised he and his mates were first-grade rugby league players. Free champagne flowed, tequila shots were thrown back, and lines of cocaine materialised during trips to the men's toilets. When the players invited Jess and her friends to an apartment for an "afterparty", they didn't hesitate.
"There was a definite attraction. They're good-looking guys," admits Jess, over coffee at an inner-Sydney cafe. But once the group spilled into the night air, Jess knew she'd drunk too much and, arriving at the apartment, she stumbled into a bedroom to sleep it off. The next thing she remembers is being jolted awake by a man bearing down on her. His breath stank of beer and his arms were sweaty and strong. "Get off!" Jess shouted in an attempt to be heard above the music blaring outside the room. "What do you think you're doing?" He responded by biting at her neck. Paralysed with fear, Jess knew she was about to be raped. "I remember thinking," she says quietly, "Is this really happening?'"
It's a question football administrators, clubs and the public ask with horror and dismay every time allegations of sexual assault involving athletes in the country's major football codes, the National Rugby League (NRL) and the Australian Football League (AFL), hit the headlines. Rarely does a season go by without alarming claims of drunken attacks and poor behaviour towards femails. "They've become about as annual as the footy season itself," laments Jaquelin Magnay, a senior sports journalist at The Sydney Morning Herald.
In the most recent case, a star NRL player was charged with sexually assaulting a 17-year-old girl on March 6. Then, on May 11, ABC1's Four Corners aired shocking new allegations from a woman they called "Clare". A former waitress said that in 2002, when she just 19-years-old, she was subjected to degrading group sex at a New Zealand hotel by six members of the Cronulla Sharks NRL club- one of whom was Matthew Johns, now the star of Channel Nine's The Footy Show. The interview made harrowing viewing. "Every time I looked up there would be more and more people in the room, lots and lots of guys in the room watching, maybe two or three on the bed...doing stuff to me," recalls Clare.
Although she complained to police after the Sharks flew back to Australia, no charges were ever laid. Still, Channel Nine sacked Johns and the disturbing claims - along with another woman's description of being molested by an NRL player in 2005 - prompted NRL chief executive David Gallop to apologise for "the actions of individuals ... that I would hope everyone in the game finds appalling and unacceptable." Sadly, though, expressions of remorse like this have been the only response.
In the past six years, 17 NRL players have been accused of sexual assault, and at least 11 AFL players have faced allegations of sexual assault since 1998. (Rugby union and soccer have largely avoided trouble, something Magnay puts down to their lower profile.) But despite this deluge of complaints, not one Australian professional footballer has been convicted of sexual assault in almost 30 years. Of all the cases known to have been referred to police, only a handful has led to charges.
"It comes down to a woman's word against that of a player, or many players," says a senior NSW Police source. "The female is usually heavily intoxicated and they're taken advantage of, but they can't remember a lot of detail."
Insiders say that beyond the locker room, many footballers inhabit a seamy, sex-drenched world of excess - bankrolled by contracts that can earn men as young as 20 up to $500,000-a-year. These players are a magnet for so-called "footy groupies" - young women attracted by the lure of muscular, rich and famous young men, free alcohol and drugs.
"The easiest way to describe it is the 'princess syndrome,' " says clinical psychologist Grant Brecht, who's also employed by the Sydney Swans. "A lot of these women will hang out with these guys because it makes them feel special, and it also puts them in the limelight." But once players start to lose respect for the women they encounter, the line between consensual sex and sexual assault is easily crossed.
Administrators have long known there's a problem - even before the Johns case. In 2004, the NRL launched its "Playing by the Rules" program, aimed at "promoting positive attitudes towards women" and spelling out the difference between sex and sexual assault. Rape Crisis Centre manager Karen Willis - an advisor on the program - tells players they're going "to be offered more women than ever in their life, yet it's not a licence for them to abuse it."
Women close to the game, however, maintain players misuse their position, and since 85 per cent of victims never report sexual assault, it's likely more instances go under the radar.
*Name has been changed
n February 2005, 22-year-old Jess* and two of her friends partied with a group of muscular young men in a packed nightclub in Sydney's Kings Cross. As Jess, a slender blonde, chatted and flirted with one of the men, she realised he and his mates were first-grade rugby league players. Free champagne flowed, tequila shots were thrown back, and lines of cocaine materialised during trips to the men's toilets. When the players invited Jess and her friends to an apartment for an "afterparty", they didn't hesitate.
"There was a definite attraction. They're good-looking guys," admits Jess, over coffee at an inner-Sydney cafe. But once the group spilled into the night air, Jess knew she'd drunk too much and, arriving at the apartment, she stumbled into a bedroom to sleep it off. The next thing she remembers is being jolted awake by a man bearing down on her. His breath stank of beer and his arms were sweaty and strong. "Get off!" Jess shouted in an attempt to be heard above the music blaring outside the room. "What do you think you're doing?" He responded by biting at her neck. Paralysed with fear, Jess knew she was about to be raped. "I remember thinking," she says quietly, "Is this really happening?'"
It's a question football administrators, clubs and the public ask with horror and dismay every time allegations of sexual assault involving athletes in the country's major football codes, the National Rugby League (NRL) and the Australian Football League (AFL), hit the headlines. Rarely does a season go by without alarming claims of drunken attacks and poor behaviour towards femails. "They've become about as annual as the footy season itself," laments Jaquelin Magnay, a senior sports journalist at The Sydney Morning Herald.
In the most recent case, a star NRL player was charged with sexually assaulting a 17-year-old girl on March 6. Then, on May 11, ABC1's Four Corners aired shocking new allegations from a woman they called "Clare". A former waitress said that in 2002, when she just 19-years-old, she was subjected to degrading group sex at a New Zealand hotel by six members of the Cronulla Sharks NRL club- one of whom was Matthew Johns, now the star of Channel Nine's The Footy Show. The interview made harrowing viewing. "Every time I looked up there would be more and more people in the room, lots and lots of guys in the room watching, maybe two or three on the bed...doing stuff to me," recalls Clare.
Although she complained to police after the Sharks flew back to Australia, no charges were ever laid. Still, Channel Nine sacked Johns and the disturbing claims - along with another woman's description of being molested by an NRL player in 2005 - prompted NRL chief executive David Gallop to apologise for "the actions of individuals ... that I would hope everyone in the game finds appalling and unacceptable." Sadly, though, expressions of remorse like this have been the only response.
In the past six years, 17 NRL players have been accused of sexual assault, and at least 11 AFL players have faced allegations of sexual assault since 1998. (Rugby union and soccer have largely avoided trouble, something Magnay puts down to their lower profile.) But despite this deluge of complaints, not one Australian professional footballer has been convicted of sexual assault in almost 30 years. Of all the cases known to have been referred to police, only a handful has led to charges.
"It comes down to a woman's word against that of a player, or many players," says a senior NSW Police source. "The female is usually heavily intoxicated and they're taken advantage of, but they can't remember a lot of detail."
Insiders say that beyond the locker room, many footballers inhabit a seamy, sex-drenched world of excess - bankrolled by contracts that can earn men as young as 20 up to $500,000-a-year. These players are a magnet for so-called "footy groupies" - young women attracted by the lure of muscular, rich and famous young men, free alcohol and drugs.
"The easiest way to describe it is the 'princess syndrome,' " says clinical psychologist Grant Brecht, who's also employed by the Sydney Swans. "A lot of these women will hang out with these guys because it makes them feel special, and it also puts them in the limelight." But once players start to lose respect for the women they encounter, the line between consensual sex and sexual assault is easily crossed.
Administrators have long known there's a problem - even before the Johns case. In 2004, the NRL launched its "Playing by the Rules" program, aimed at "promoting positive attitudes towards women" and spelling out the difference between sex and sexual assault. Rape Crisis Centre manager Karen Willis - an advisor on the program - tells players they're going "to be offered more women than ever in their life, yet it's not a licence for them to abuse it."
Women close to the game, however, maintain players misuse their position, and since 85 per cent of victims never report sexual assault, it's likely more instances go under the radar.
*Name has been changed
To read the inside story on the NRL's sex-fuelled culture, read this month's marie claire.
