Shuffling with Sharks

by PAUL DAFFEY

THESE are strange times for football in the Western District. For more than two decades, the Deakin University Sharks were a bunch of merry pranksters masquerading as a football club. Apart from a slip-up in 1990, when they inexplicably made the grand final, the Sharks were unapologetically, almost heroically, hopeless. Rivals considered them a joke.

But in recent years, the joke's been reversed. The Sharks have played in the past two Warrnambool and District league grand finals and, with an ounce of luck, they'll play in the decider again this year.

Secretary Alan Aulsebrook explained the improvement in simple terms. "We've now got blokes who can mark and kick." His answer is deeper than you think.

In the dark years after the club began in 1977, marking and kicking were like mystical arts. The Sharks produced groundbreaking, if politically suspect, newsletters and their fundraising ideas were products of genius, but better football skills could be found at an adventure playground.

In 1984, Auslebrook spent one Saturday in the reserves and then doubled up in the seniors. He watched the ball sail through the opposition goals on 62 occasions. The next year, a Sharks teammate received five votes in the league best-and-fairest award and the club celebrated by stealing the leaders' board.

In those years, there were no lights at the Deakin University ground. Training was forced on to the roundabout at the entrance to the campus, with players keeping watch for the 6.05 bus.

In 1990, when the Sharks' rise caught everyone off-guard, clubs held crisis meetings when the Sharks defeated them. Five years later, with the Sharks back in familiar territory at the foot of the ladder, East Warrnambool coach Geoff Cross made headlines in the Warrnambool newspaper, The Standard, when he called for the university club to be kicked out.

"Where they're coming from, their football is a bit of a joke," he said.

Oddly enough, East Warrnambool is now a merger candidate after failing to win a game this season, but Cross was right when he suggested the Sharks treated footy as a joke. Most of them found it a scream.

The club confirmed the accusations when a group calling itself the PFS - the Peoples Front of Sharkland - stole the plaque for the Golden Whistle Award from the Warrnambool umpires' rooms in a daring raid. "As we have no money to buy players, we have decided that terrorist activity is the only remaining way to lift our flagging fortunes," the PFS said in a statement issued to The Standard.

The fledgling terrorists demanded, among other things, that all Sharks should receive a free kick when they touch the ball and that the Sharks should be allowed to kick a goal at either end of the ground. Opposition players should be banned from the centre square at the bounce and they should be forced to play in bare feet.

On a less confronting note, the club's dating agency, Sharks Backyard Introductions, placed an ad in the newspaper for its match-making functions. Such a shebang was known as a Barrel and Barbie. "Held in a romantic fibro cement garage, tastefully furnished with vinyl lounges, and only a short wander from the sand dunes," the ad said. "These will be held on Sundays when double-header footy matches are shown."

Away from match-making, the entertainment at club functions was provided by the club band, the Gutted Rabbits. The band played at least once a year, usually dressed in gaudy 1970s attire, and released an album with accompanying T-shirts and posters. Band leader and club captain Ken Radley said that, in the end, the band broke up because its members were too busy.

"But music is a funny thing and anything can happen," he said.

The Sharks were also inspired by film, especially the Quentin Tarantino flick Pulp Fiction. The publication Pond Fiction, whose title reflected the club's ground, which is known as the Pond, featured artwork from the film and innuendo from two decades of the club newsletter, the Shuffler.

The title of the newsletter reflects the Sharks' most enduring, and infamous, example of student japery. After every victory, all players must perform the Shark Shuffle.

The execution of the shuffle is easy enough. The team lines up, takes a few steps forward and dives on to the ground. Once on the turf, one hand is cocked behind the head and the other behind the back. These are meant to be fins.

All players then wriggle their bodies and fins and wriggle. Duration of shuffling depends on the manner of victory.

The most rewarding shuffle was recorded in 1998, when the club broke a losing streak that had lasted more than two years. Celebrations continued for two days and - in a recurring theme - a photo of the Sharks appeared in The Standard, this time on the front page.

This year the shuffle claimed a victim when Shilo Wyatt, a 24-year-old aquatic science student, slid from a wet patch of turf into a dry patch. His shoulder became caught on the dirt and he strained ligaments in his ribs, forcing him to miss two matches.

The midfielder from Murrayville, on the South Australian border, looked sheepish when explaining the incident. How did he feel? "Pretty stupid," he said.

Performances of the shuffle have been noted way beyond the Warrnambool district. The Sharks have received photos of players shuffling on the Eiffel Tower and the Pyramids. John Sherwood, a chemistry lecturer, sent a picture of himself shuffling among the penguins in Antarctica.

Perhaps the most infamous shuffle was performed at a graduation ceremony at the Warrnambool Performing Arts Centre. Chris Jennings, a 38-year-old commerce graduate who wore a long-sleeved Sharks guernsey under his academic gown, shuffled on stage after receiving the certificate that ended his drawn-out undergraduate days.

Jennnings took 19 years to finish a degree that many zip through in three years. Much of his stay was spent supporting the Sharks. Jennings was rewarded for his support by being granted life membership despite playing only 19 games.

While the execution of the shuffle is straightforward, its origins are shrouded in mystery. Some believe it was dreamed up by a few teammates sitting around a student lounge in the small hours after a game. Others believe it was copied from a tired and emotional David Wooles, who shuffled across the dance floor in pursuit of a female friend at a hotel.

The truth is more likely to be traced back to Michael Sully, a current match committee member, who coached Wooles at the Sharks in 1983. Sully played with Amateurs club De La Salle Old Collegians before he coached the Sharks. While he was on a footy trip to the Murray River with his De La Salle teammates, a spontaneous version of the Dead Ants Dance broke out on the floor of a Mulwala watering hole.

Sully recalled the ants dance while enjoying a few quiet beers after training one Thursday night at the Pond. The Sharks had been wondering how to celebrate their rare victories and asked Sully to perform his Dead Ants Dance.

"I wriggled around like an idiot," he said.

After adjusting the choreography to include fins, the Sharks Shuffle was born. The club celebrated its one victory of the season with a mass shuffle at a house party. Sully, as coach, was expected to get things rolling.

"But they all shuffled on top of me and I nearly suffocated," he said.

It is not known when the shuffle was first performed on turf, rather than in a loungeroom, but it is definitely known that opposition clubs hated it. Given that Sharks' victories were infrequent, it was considered a disgrace to endure the shuffle.

Nirranda president Carey Hackett remembered his club's 1992 coach, Tony Sloane, warning his team at three-quarter time. "If we lose this game today, we'll have nowhere to hide."

Sloane, who is now on the match committee at Terang-Mortlake, was livid when the Sharks won and shuffled. His response was to hurl objects around the Nirranda rooms.

In the return match, the Sharks were again poised for victory when a forward lined up for goal on the siren. "It's going to happen again," said Sloane, and walked from the ground. The Sharks forward missed from 20 metres and had to be helped from the ground by teammates.

It no longer became a disgrace to lose to the Sharks when Chris Lee arrived from South Warrnambool to coach the university club in 1999. Lee brought half a dozen former South Warrnambool teammates with him and the effect on the Sharks was pronounced.

The traditional easybeats rose to fifth. The next season, the Sharks were undefeated after five rounds. At three-quarter time in round six, Dennington coach Brendan Hawkins promised his team that it would perform the first version of the Bulldogs Bark if the Sharks were beaten.

Dennington duly won. Defender Jason McDonough recalled his team getting down on all fours and barking. Then they cocked their legs. "It was a bit of fun; just to give it back to them," McDonough said.

Deakin University's rise up the ladder in the past few seasons has proved a recruiting tool. Student footballers no longer arrive from all around the state and play for Hampden league clubs or opposition clubs in the Warrnambool and District league. The students tend to turn out for the Sharks.

The two key forwards, Chris Fleming and Tony Russell, a 40-year-old who kicked 1000 goals in the Hampden league, are beyond the undergraduate vintage. The coach, Matt O'Brien, joined the club after meeting Sully on the teaching staff at St Pius's. The rest of the players tend to be fit, young students, ready to challenge for a flag with the only university club in country Victoria.

O'Brien, a 36-year-old half-back, said the Sharks don't have the range of generations that are found at traditional clubs; there are few parents or former players around the place. "It's a unique environment," he said.

The energy and ideas of students fuels this environment. In years past, such energy inspired parties and pranks. In years to come, it might just produce a flag.

australianrules.com.au

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