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Ali Clarke: If only Fringe performers were footballers

They’re all super-fit, highly skilled people at the top of their game – but their lives couldn’t be more different. Ali Clarke asks some tough questions about art and sport.

Feb 24, 2022, updated May 02, 2022
Performers in the circus show Rouge, which is playing in Gluttony throughout this Adelaide Fringe season. Supplied image

Performers in the circus show Rouge, which is playing in Gluttony throughout this Adelaide Fringe season. Supplied image

Once again whilst watching a Fringe performance, I couldn’t help but wish the performers were footballers.

Now before you pull me apart, presuming this is some divisive sport-versus-the-arts number, hear me out.

Each year, I become a complete and utter Fringe junkie, babysitting and timing allowed.

But it was whilst watching a woman turn her spleen inside out, high above the stage supported by what looked like dental floss, I couldn’t help but wonder at the athleticism and dedication it must have taken her to get there. And, of course, down again safely.

I’m not suggesting she is any more dedicated to her craft than other Fringe acts, but when faced by rippling muscles stretching into extra-human ways, it’s easy to draw parallels to those on the sporting stage.

She was clearly incredibly good at what she does and if not the best in the state, then certainly close to it.

The time and training that had gone into her body was apparent, but, like most of her peers, the majority of that would have happened on her own time and dime.

So, this is where I wished she was a footballer.

Because if she played in the AFL, instead of disappearing behind the curtain as we all shuffled out into the night, she would be cheered off the ground and into the arms of trainers who’d help her warm down, physios and masseuses to make sure her body was feeling the best it could, and she’d be handed a drink nutritionally designed to get her recovered as quickly as possible.

I haven’t seen any green smoothies being sold next to the bubbles and beers at the Garden of Unearthly Delights.

She’d then have a PR team to brief her on the clamouring media and another lot to push out her social media content. Her personal manager would field offers with zeros on the end of it to post an occasional trip in a fancy car or night away in a winery.

Speaking to countless artists here in Adelaide, they feel they have been neglected for years and have seen little tangible monetary support.

Of course, there are different tiers of performers, and this is not to say that groups in the bigger productions aren’t looked after, but without polling them individually, I don’t think I’m going out on too much of a limb to suggest most artists are – and have been – living paycheque to paycheque, all whilst trying to perform at their absolute peak.

In fact, I bet if they had a dollar for every time they heard Australia is a sporting nation, they would probably be richer than what they’ve got from their theatre takings, especially when audiences have been at 50% and then 75% capacity indoors.

The association between sport and health and wellbeing is an obvious one for government bean-and-vote-counters, especially heading into an election.

Athlete A wins an Olympic medal or an Australian Open tennis title and little kid A, B, C and D sign up for the local club. Those numbers are tangible, measurable and able to be quoted in a funding application.

Meanwhile, Fringe performer A absolutely nails it in front of an adoring crowd, and whilst little kid A, B, C and D might think they want to join the circus one day, the lines of sight just aren’t as clear nor as straight.

Given the incredibly diverse nature of what ‘The Arts” entail, the impact can be hard to nail down, which when you’re trying to get bang for voting buck, can then disappear into the ether of who gets what and so what.

Speaking to countless artists here in Adelaide, they feel they have been neglected for years and have seen little tangible monetary support.

Throw in COVID and the cracks people slip through for funds have stretched to chasms.

Tigers premiership player Daniel Rioli gets the Rolls Royce treatment on the sidelines of an AFL match. Photo: AAP/Dave Hunt

One friend explained it to me this way: “In most situations, venues will take 40% of the revenue which will cover your lighting and tech, but then you have to pick up the rest of the tab: the marketing, the costumes, the rehearsal space, any extra performers and chorus.

“If you get injured or sick, that’s on you and you have to fix yourself and pay for anything extra you might need to be able to get back out on stage.

“And that’s ok,” he said. “But when you’re pounding the streets two hours before a show with a hundred flyers in your hand, still short of enough ticket sales to break even as the makeup runs down your face with sweat, it can get a bit much to deal with.”

When you consider that for some football players their biggest concern is whether or not they share the same bed as their partner to ensure they have enough sleep the night before a game, you realise he might have a point.

So, as I sat there watching my Fringe performer again stick her foot where it just shouldn’t go for an at-capacity, yet three-quarters-filled, theatre on a Saturday night, I couldn’t help but wonder just how much easier it would be for our dancers, comedians, circus acts and visual artists if they had the ability and desire to kick a footy.

But for my own mental wellbeing and the sheer joy they bring me, I am so bloody glad they don’t.

Ali Clarke presents the breakfast show on Mix 102.3. She will be a regular columnist for InDaily this year.

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