Soccer gives young Koori players a goal in life

SELMA MILOVANOVIC
May 8, 2010

Jaharlyn Mitchell , 15 and Charles play soccer for Mildura United Soccer Club and will train with Manchester United in England.

Jaharlyn Mitchell , 15 and Charles play soccer for Mildura United Soccer Club and will train with Manchester United in England. Photo: Jason South

WHEN Jaharlyn Mitchell began playing soccer years ago, there was a reason besides following in his uncle's footsteps.

''I thought I should make something of myself,'' the 15-year-old said.

Since his first kicks at the Mildura United Soccer Club - which has many Koori players - Jaharlyn has, indeed, made something of himself.
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The quiet kid with a shock of tousled hair and his taller, more confident mate Charles, 17, have been selected to train with Manchester United for two weeks in July.

The trip has been jointly organised by Victoria Police and the Western Suburbs Indigenous Gathering Place.

Leading Senior Constable Robbie Noggler of Corio police got the idea for a soccer program at last year's meeting of the state's police Aboriginal liaison officers, when he heard a speech about an AFL initiative.

As a soccer nut and former coach at Geelong Grammar - where he first heard of overseas soccer camps - he put together a team of 15 Victorian soccer players. They comprise 13 Kooris and two boys with European backgrounds who are learning about Aboriginal culture.

''The broader idea is that these kids will be mentors to others in their area and they will run soccer clinics in their towns,'' Noggler said.

The policeman has already approached the federal government and private enterprise for financial support and is hoping to secure more funds for the trip to succeed.

The story of Jaharlyn and Charles' club is as unusual as a Koori kid standing in the English football cradle. Mildura United began as a Greek club in 1916. But that changed in 1992, when its current president, Chris Tsivoglou, got out of his car in the main street of Merbein to confront bored Koori kids throwing rocks at his car. An older relative stood up to him. Mr Tsivoglou asked the man whether he could teach the young vandals ball skills so they did not waste their time. The man agreed. Now the young vandals are successful, law-abiding men.

''More Koori kids started coming until it came to a stage we had no more white kids,'' Tsivoglou recalls. ''There were kids from Mildura, Dareton, Wentworth, used to go pick them up from everywhere.''

White players eventually left, and so did the 27 local sponsors. Now, the club has players of all races and creeds but still no sponsors.

They socialise in old change-rooms and rely on the Department of Justice to keep going. Over the past few years, it has provided money to the club under a crime-prevention program. This has meant that Tsivoglou has bought a new bus to transport his charges.

So successful is the club in returning young people with a potential to stray into crime to the right path that the Mildura Koori Court often refers children there. And Billy Carroll, who runs an Aboriginal employment agency, says the club gives young people life skills crucial for the workforce.

You would never tell by looking at Charles - a strikingly handsome, level-headed and polite young man - that he was a wild, aggressive child four years ago.

''Soccer gave Charles focus,'' says his father, Greg Charles. ''He didn't know where to focus his energy. He picked soccer. I didn't want him to play contact sport. I told him he should learn how to handle the ball, handle himself on the field first.''

So, was his old man a sportsman, too?

''Nah, mate, I'm a drunk. But he listens to me. He practised those skills and it helped him with school,'' Mr Charles said. ''He's in year 11 and I don't know too many black kids who are in year 11.''

When he heard his son had been picked for the soccer trip, Mr Charles was overwhelmed. Then, he gave the boy this advice: ''You're going to go a long way away and I can't be with you. You have to do things one way - the right way - and he knows right from wrong.''

''He's done well,'' Mr Charles says, looking at his eldest son proudly. ''But there's always room for improvement.''

http://www.watoday.com.au/sport/soccer/soccer-gives-young-koori-players-a-goal-in-life-20100507-ujti.html

http://www.theage.com.au/news/general/field-of-dreams-in-the-bush/2005/07/22/1121539146591.html?from=moreStories

Field of dreams in the bush
By Claire Halliday
July 23, 2005

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Jaharlyn Mitchell, 10, in action for Mildura United. The club, made up of mostly Aboriginal players, needs sponsors to help pay for equipment.
Photo: Angela Wylie

A struggling soccer club is giving Aboriginal children in Mildura some stability in their lives.

Everyone out at "Nama" knows the bus. It rattles into the Namatjira Avenue Aboriginal settlement - 30 kilometres north of the Victorian border, near the NSW town of Dareton - four times a week during the soccer season, from April to September. Without the bus, most of the 140 children on the books of Mildura United Soccer Club probably wouldn't play at all.

"They're just too far out of town to get in by themselves," says Buddy Parsons, who has been volunteering as a driver for four years.

"If it wasn't for the soccer club, the kids would have nothing to do out here."

As the Aboriginal community liaison officer stationed at Dareton Police Station, Parsons knows what can happen when "too much empty time" becomes the enemy.

In 2002, two-year-old Joedan Andrews was killed at Namatjira, perhaps by reckless driving. Parts of his body were later recovered near the rubbish tip.

Today, in the crispy fog of early morning, Namatjira's problems are clear.

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AdvertisementAs the bus slows to a stop in the orange dust, a pair of skinny heeler dogs jump the empty bottles around a forgotten campfire to bark at the wheels.

A boy, dirty, with the obstinate stubble of adolescence, boards the bus with a silent nod to Parsons before sliding into a seat. There's another stop, and as a trio of youths embarks, a young woman gathers up her toddler to push past them down the dusty aisle. A teenager reaches for the baby's palm, holds it to his lips and kisses it quickly before the lurch of the engine separates them.

Parsons twists his hands around the steering wheel and shouts back towards the rear of the bus: "Does anyone else know who said they're playing today?"

Although there are 140 players on the club's books, exactly how many turn up changes from week to week. In the fractured community of Namatjira - an estimated half of the 450-strong population are children - kids move between grandparents, parents and foster care.

If it wasn't for the soccer club, the kids would have nothing to do out here."
Buddy Parsons, community officer"Playing soccer gives them stability," says the team's unofficial manager, Mildura resident Christos Tsivoglou, 59. "For a lot of them, it's all they've got."

They call him Uncle Chris - a mark of respect in the indigenous community. His decade-long involvement in the Mildura United Soccer Club has consumed his time and, he says, most of his money, paying for expenses such as soccer gear and registration that parents can't afford.

As the soccer ground's car park fills with the parents of the five opposing teams that make up the Sunraysia Soccer Association - parents who deliver their own children in clean uniforms and shiny soccer boots - a little boy with latte-coloured skin and a broad, freckled nose tugs at Tsivoglou's arm. "Uncle Chris, can I have some shin guards?"

Tsivoglou sighs. "What happened to your last pair?"

The boy shrugs. Tsivoglou hands him another set and warns him to look after them.

"On the other teams, the parents pay for things like this," Tsivoglou says. "Our parents just don't have the money."

A decade ago, Mildura United had more than 20 financial sponsors. Since the first five Aboriginal children joined in 1992, most of the non-indigenous players have gone to other clubs. Now, with Aboriginal players making up about 95 per cent of the team, only three sponsors remain.

"The majority of parents on the other teams have decent jobs, or their own businesses that can help sponsor the clubs. The majority of Mildura United parents are on low, fixed incomes. They can't help," says "Uncle" Billy Carol, who administers the region's Indigenous Employment Program. Ensuring the club's survival, he says, is critical.

"I see formal sport as providing valuable life skills training - punctuality, anger management, teamwork - and therefore, work skills training. Soccer could help these kids turn the corner," Carol says.

With a total of $2000 a year coming from the region's Aboriginal Co-operative and a local solicitor, the club's chief sponsor is VicHealth. In 2003, it allocated $30,000 to the club under its Active Participation scheme, designed to support community sport. Last month, VicHealth announced another $10,000 grant to the club.

"Some of these kids have amazing skills," says VicHealth chief executive Rob Moodie. "They just need the money to help train them."

Back at the ground, the under-11s have just won their match, 2-0.

Tsivoglou points to Jaharlyn Mitchell, 10. "He's our biggest goal kicker. He can't outrun them but he can outskill them," he says. "If he had proper training, he could be a star."

Although he worries for the club's future, Tsivoglou remains positive.

Two weeks ago, the Victorian Aboriginal Justice Association honoured him with the Indigenous Community Justice Award 2005 for "outstanding contribution towards improved social justice for the Loddon Mallee Koori community".

"Now, maybe it will be easier for me to get more money for the club. Maybe now doors will open," he says. Near the canteen, a little boy hovers, seagull-like, before pinching a chip from his friend's cup. "I haven't had anything for breakfast," he says. "Give us another one? I've got to play next game."

In the game that follows, Jaharlyn Mitchell plays again, and again he scores the goals that result in Mildura United winning all of the day's matches. "You're looking at the next Dave Beckham," Jaharlyn grins.

On the homeward journey, Parsons pulls the bus to a stop as Jaharlyn runs towards his house and balances on the fence before leaping into a backflip and off towards the soccer ball on the grass. He waits at the front door as Parsons toots a goodbye.

"He's a great little player," Parsons says. "But nobody ever comes to watch him."