The movies provide the best kind of heroes, but in the real world, we’re sadly lacking
Attention world leaders: we might all be sheep to you, but watch out, we bite.
True leadership is an inspiring thing, which comes in all shapes and sizes.
Let’s face it, most of us have rooted for either the booty-avenging and bloodthirsty Russell Crowe in Gladiator, the junkie-made-good Ewan McGregor in Trainspotting, or “sh*t, the world really does revolve around me, doesn’t it?” underdog of Jim Carrey in The Truman Show.
If you’re not a movie buff... lift your game, because these are the best kind of heroes: magnificently flawed, relatable, with more issues than the Australian Government, but you have to admire them for their bravery to overcome the odds.
And who wants an even tempered, blue-eyed and blond-haired hero anyway?
Unlike the movies, there’s a leadership vacuum in the real world at the moment.
When our own Prime Minister bumbles from one doomed policy to the next, rogue despots are flushed out of drainpipes and an elderly blue rinser comes across all heroic for simply catching a tram, we’re clearly crying out for inspirational leadership.
It’s probably why the average Aussie looks to footy for illumination; while paradoxically, seeing how quickly absolute power can dissolve.
The AFL season 2011 will be remembered not just for a stale serving of Meatloaf, but why youth policies can sometimes extend to coaches too.
In the space of a few months, footy’s old firm of Neil Craig, Dean Bailey, Rodney Eade and eventually Mick Malthouse, felt the sharp corner of a magnetic whiteboard.
It can be an even quicker kill in politics.
Last year it was Kevin Rudd’s career that went down the drain. This year Muammar Gaddafi was shot in one.
Don’t get me wrong here, I was a card carrying Kevin 07 fan, but his story showed the tables can turn pretty quick.
While Gaddafi proved the notion that if you’re blessed with the opportunity of leadership and influence, you should always try to use it for the good of the human race.
When I was 18, my own personal Gaddafi was my supermarket boss.
This six foot six sociopath enjoyed ultimate power over his little realm (that is, a few dozen pimply faced teenagers), and enjoyed terrorising the meek as much as he did drinking himself into oblivion every night.
No doubt to numb the shame.
But if I saw him on the street I’d say: ”Maaaate, thanks for being such a pr*ck for all those years , you really taught me how not to behave as a functional human being, cheers big fella”.
At least he was committed. Admittedly, to being a total douchebag, but he worked hard towards a clear and obvious goal.
But then there was Gary, a former South Australian district cricketer who came to play at our local club, for sadly, just one season.
With elite skills in cricket, sportsmanship and self-deprecation, him coming to an isolated town like Mildura, was like signing the Dalai Lama as a club motivational speaker for the summer.
He could have said something like: “Now Ben, I want you to replace your Kookaburra bat with a wet fish, and use rolled up newspaper for pads”, and I would have only asked “the mid-week or Saturday edition, Gaz?”.
Unlike my tyrant of a boss, who believed arrogance and mental abuse were genuine qualities, Steve preached self-belief, respect and never giving up.
Well, until he swerved to miss a kangaroo driving to work and hit a tree, but that’s another story.
The point is both were leaders, and both left their mark, it’s just one used his position to intimidate, the other to inspire.
We need more leaders like Gary.
So remember, if you’re ever put in charge of a flock, be hard but fair. These kind of sheep have long memories.
Just ask Gaddafi.
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