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Anna Krien - Night games: sex, power and sport

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Anna Krien Night games: sex, power and sport
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    Night games: sex, power and sport
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Winner of the 2014 Davitt Award for Best True Crime Book and the 2014 William Hill Sports Book of the Year
The Pies beat the Saints and the city of Melbourne was still cloaked in black and white crepe paper when the rumour of a pack rape by celebrating footballers began to surface ... And so, as police were confiscating bedsheets from a townhouse in South Melbourne, the trial by media began.
What does a young footballer do to cut loose? At night, some play what they think of as pranks, or games: night games with women. Sometimes these involve consensual sex, sometimes not, and often the lines are blurred.
In Night Games, Anna Krien follows the rape trial of an Australian Rules footballer. She also takes a balanced and fearless look at the dark side of footy culture the world of Sam Newman, Ricky Nixon, Matty Johns and the Cronulla Sharks.
Both a courtroom drama and a riveting work of narrative journalism, this is a breakthrough...

Anna Krien: author's other books


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Praise for Night Games One of the most anticipated books of the year - photo 1

Praise for Night Games

One of the most anticipated books of the year. Books+Publishing

Krien has produced a book of note which has justly earned comparisons with Helen Garners The First Stone . Her detailed research, sharp observations and intelligent writing, mixed with compassion for the two lead players in this unhappy drama, make Night Games a serious addition to the literature on sport, sex, consent and power. The Australian

The work of a compassionate and expansive intelligence. The Sydney Morning Herald

A balanced and powerful exploration of the grey area of sexual assault. The Advertiser

For every superstar, club CEO, boundary rider, bar-propper and park footballer, it should be mandatory reading. The Sunday Age

Kriens style, a recognisable signature now, is one of intelligent listening. Once again she has managed to present a riveting and disturbing set of stories, voices and arguments that are not structured into a polemic, but that nevertheless draw a clear case for cultural change. The Melbourne Review

Krien is both adept and fiercely honest in her examination of male sporting culture. Australian Womens Weekly

It is at once fearless, intelligent, and deeply compassionateKristina Olsson

Krien is nuanced and fiercely intelligent, and every paragraph is addictive, leaving you thirsting for more as if in a thriller. Readings Monthly

Anna Kriens Night Games exposes AFL culture. In a captivating dialogue, Krien explores sex, power and privilege in Australias sporting culture. Read it and youll never think about the Saturday game in the same way.SMH, 20 Important Moments for Women in 2013

Copyright

Published by Black Inc.,

an imprint of Schwartz Media Pty Ltd

3739 Langridge Street

Collingwood Vic 3066 Australia

email: enquiries@blackincbooks.com

http://www.blackincbooks.com

Copyright Anna Krien 2014. First published 2013.

Anna Krien asserts the right to be known as the author of this work.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior consent of the publishers.

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:

Krien, Anna.

Night games : sex, power and sport / Anna Krien.

9781863956499 (paperback)

9781922231406 (ebook)

Australian football players--Sexual behaviour. Athletes--Australia--Sexual behaviour. Power (Social sciences) Sports--Moral and ethical aspects. Sex crimes--Australia. Men--Sexual behaviour. Professional sports--Australia.

362.883

Book design by Peter Long

Cover mannequin courtesy of Creative Colour

Contents PART 1 The Footy Show PART 2 The Grey Zone PART 3 The Winmar - photo 2

Contents

PART 1
The Footy Show

PART 2
The Grey Zone

PART 3
The Winmar Moment

PART 4
End Game

AUTHORS NOTE

I have changed the name of the defendant in the following account of a rape trial. On grounds of confidentiality I am not permitted to give the complainants name, and in fairness I believe the defendants name should be suppressed here for the same reason. Several other names have also been changed.

As is customary in rape trials, the complainants evidence was given in closed court and cannot be reported.

PROLOGUE

When the members of the jury ten men and two women emerge from the back room, they dont look at him. Their eyes do a darting sweep of the court, lifting up and over our outlines. The defendants seats are full, the complainants seats behind the prosecutor except for a lone policewoman who has arrived to hear the verdict are empty, as they have been since the beginning of the trial, and the press seats where I am are largely vacant.

Five days ago there had been barely any standing room as the reporters crammed in, opening and shutting the door in the middle of proceedings. A star footballer had arrived to give evidence. The Collingwood player took the stand jauntily, swinging a little in his chair as he spoke.

Today its just an ordinary man in the dock, his face grey with dread, eyes rimmed red, no big deal as far as headlines are concerned. Hes not a footballer at all, the judge and prosecution had agreed before the jury was selected and the trial commenced. I turned to look at Justin Dyer then. Disbelief flickered across his face. Hed been dropped from his team in the Victorian Football League after the charges were laid.

No, hes a hanger-on, said the prosecution.

Exactly, said the judge.

Have you reached your verdict? the judge now enquires. The foreman of the jury nods and stands up. The 23-year-old in the dock is answering to six counts: one of indecent assault, the rest rape.

Not guilty.

Justin buckles and lets out a huge wracking sob. His gasps seem to heave over his cordoned-off area, over the wooden banister, to his family. They let out a choking sound. The jury foreman trails off, looking at the man in the dock, the document in his hand shaking.

The judge nods at him to continue, and with each verdict of not guilty the sobbing grows louder, the family now holding themselves, arms crossed over one another, as if forming a kind of dinghy on a rough sea and taking the waves of Justins gasping as their own.

The jury members shift in their seats, fiddling with their hands, with the rings on their fingers, stealing wide-eyed looks at the dock. It is as if they are seeing Justin for the first time.

With my fingers, I try to push my own tears back into the seams of my eyes. I squeeze my nails into my palms, etching the skin, for distraction. The solicitor for the state, bringing to the court the charges initiated by Sarah Wesley, the complainant, sits facing the court. She exchanges a long, knowing look with the policewoman in the front row behind the Crown prosecutor.

As the jury is thanked and dismissed, I stare at my notepad. Now they know the difference between what is said in popular media and reality, the judge says of the jurors to the lawyers. We all try to ignore the whirlpool of emotion in the corner of the room.

After the judge departs, the reporters stand awkwardly at the door, leaving for the family to settle, to sort themselves out and start leaving so they can ask for a quote or two. I stand with them, but I dont really belong. I know this family now. Ive sat with them outside for the past three weeks, waiting with them in that dead space. I put my pencil and notebook away, take a deep breath and cross over the empty seats into this flooding family on the defendants side.

His grandmother envelops me in a hug and I think, well, there goes my objectivity. And Im struggling with this. Its as if Im inside out. The journalists at the door, their faces are unreadable, they have cool exteriors. I admire their poise, their unmuddied positions, absolved in their detachment. Its all backwards for me. Because despite the verdict, I still dont know who is guilty and who is innocent, and yet here I am, hugging the grandmother in the defendants corner, and thats a problem, dont you think?

PART 1
THE FOOTY SHOW
CHAPTER 1

Much like the federal election of 2010, the Australian Rules Football grand final that year was a draw. It was an unfathomable concept for players and spectators: how do you party when there are no winners and no losers? Then, to the delight of pubs, merchandise sellers and sausage makers, the Australian Football League announced a rematch between Collingwood and St Kilda. The Pies beat the Saints and the city of Melbourne was still cloaked in black and white crepe paper when the rumour of a pack rape by celebrating footballers began to surface. By morning, the head of the Victorian sexual crimes squad confirmed to journalists that they were preparing to question two Collingwood players, the young recruits Dayne Beams and John McCarthy. And so, as police were confiscating bedsheets from a townhouse in Dorcas Street, South Melbourne, the trial by media began.

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