Luke Sayers’ camp says it stands by what the AFL said, that there has been no concession since his version.
If this was just a row between a wealthy couple, one of whom was an immediate former Carlton president, in the midst of a hostile split, the AFL could wash their hands of it entirely.
But the High Court filing raises the possibility of some further embarrassment, and the fact that the league’s new chief communications and government relations officer, well-connected former ALP staffer Sharon McCrohan, advised Sayers during the scandal is another wrinkle for the league.
Whatever happens in the court proceedings or the costly lawyer-led mediation, the AFL must not only consider how it got itself into this quagmire, but also consider the role – and powers – of its integrity unit.
The league could also ask itself this simple question: how far should we go in scrutinizing or investigating the private conduct of individuals who happen to be either players or club officials?
The Integrity Unit, as first conceived, investigated matters relating to the operation of a clean football competition – drugs, gambling, cheating and fueling (see Melbourne, 2012). Over time, it expanded into the social realm to include racial and/or homophobic incidents.
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Why did the integrity unit investigate the publication of the bird photo? Sayers was Carlton’s president at the time and was being investigated for breaches of AFL rules, including effectively “destroying the reputation of the game”.
But did the league really need to activate the integrity unit here? Naturally, when the scandal emerged, the party’s line was that it had to investigate because Luke Sayers, the former managing director of PwC, was at the helm of the Blues.
The league was implicitly developed by constant complaints from the AFL Players Association that officials – often coaches but sometimes freak presidents – were treated leniently, i.e. not investigated or suspended/fined, for offensive comments or protests.
The AFL has a respect and accountability policy dealing with abusive behavior towards women which, regardless of whether it provides justice for abused women, at least has a clear process.
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Respect and Responsibility (sounding very Jane Austen, yes), now more than a decade old, is triggered by complaints. If there is no complaint, there is no investigation. And naturally, the league is required to notify the police if allegations of sexual assault or other crime arise.
In this Sayers case, there was no complaint that we know of from either party.
One of the problems facing the AFL at the start of 2025, when the picture and story became last summer’s answer to Lachie Neale’s most current marital travails on the Footy Gossip Metro, was this: how would it deal with a player in that position?
However, I would venture that if Bailey Smith can avoid AFL and club sanctions for sexist remarks or social media posts (like my colleague Caroline Wilson, for example), the league won’t necessarily jump into the Sayers pit, which, if not bottomless, has yet to reach its bottom.
Luke Sayers may have wished to defend himself and burn a blow to his reputation by telling his version to the AFL.
But he could also make the statement as a private citizen without any AFL involvement.
Headed by a highly capable ex-policeman in Tony Keane, the AFL’s integrity unit is often seen as a quasi-judicial body, when in fact it is only an internal body for the business of sporting competitions and events. It has no legal status, although players and officials are required to cooperate with it while they are in the system.
Did the AFL learn its limitations of not being the United Nations of Australian sport during the Hawthorn racism saga?
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There, the AFL built an expensive edifice to investigate allegations of former First Nations players and officials, only to end up in another, more appropriate area, the Human Rights Commission, after finding no case against former Hawk officials and leaving all parties — accused, plaintiffs and clubs — without a happy outcome.
Sayers might have spared himself the current grief if he had quickly left the Carlton presidency, not long after the image was published (and removed). Admittedly, an immediate resignation may not look good, given that he was already on the dock before the Senate hearing during the PwC scandal.
But if he then walked away and had his estranged wife hand over the High Court injunction, it would have spared all parties, not least the AFL, more unwelcome exposure.
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