‘Hockey becomes like a family in itself’: Re-examining social capital through women’s experiences of a sport club undergoing quasi-professionalisation

Social capital

Social capital is a complex framework with roots in economic, sociological and political science literature and, as such, has multiple, often controversial, conceptualisations. Its measurement is equally fraught with controversy, with contrasting attempts to analyse the quality and quantity of people’s social connections at individual, institutional and population levels (Fishman, 2009; Lin and Erickson, 2008). Current dominant conceptualisations stem from three key theorists: James Coleman, Pierre Bourdieu and Robert Putnam.

Coleman’s conceptualisation of social capital resides at the individual, micro-level. It exists within social structures, the relationships or ties between people, and it is ‘productive’ (Coleman, 1990: 303). He acknowledged that constituent features of social capital were not new, but that the concept usefully drew together trust, social support, and the social networks from which they derive (Coleman, 1990: 305). His conceptualisation focused on the interdependencies between people: ‘individuals do not act independently, goals are not independently arrived at, and interests are not wholly selfish’ (Coleman, 1990: 301). As such, his concern focused on close relationships, with associated capital arising organically as a by-product of activities designed for another purpose. Mutual interdependency through trust has psychological value (Coleman, 1990).

Pierre Bourdieu, on the other hand, provided a definition based on power in social class. For Bourdieu, social capital is a personal resource both actually and potentially derived from membership to a group; the resources therein are collectively owned and accessible to each member (Bourdieu, 1986: 248; Bourdieu and Wacquant, 1992: 119). Whilst social capital is an individual resource, Bourdieu’s focus on the social group as a whole requires a meso-level analysis. The inclusivity of a social group, such as the elite, allows its members to call upon that group’s resources, the benefits of which revert back to the group. The rich as a collective get richer. Unlike Coleman, Bourdieu sees some intentionality to group membership and subsequent access to resources (Baron et al., 2000). Members have to be actively engaged, developing useful relationships (Bourdieu, 1986: 249).

Robert Putnam’s conceptualisation of social capital is situated at the macro and political level, proposing that participation in structured networks, such as sports clubs, breeds civic engagement and improves society’s efficiency (Putnam, 1993, 1995). Drawing on Coleman, Putnam describes social capital as an umbrella term that draws together social relational aspects of networks, norms of reciprocity, mutual support and trustworthiness (Putnam and Feldstein, 2003). Yet he emphasises bridging social capital over bonding social capital (Putnam, 2000: 22). These types of social capital, as foreshadowed by Granovetter’s ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ ties (Granovetter, 1973), separate the ties experienced by broader groups from those between family and close friendship groups. Bonding capital is often associated with ‘cognitive’ social capital where supports are of a psychological nature rather than material (structural). Putnam somewhat ignored family or friends as a network (Putnam, 1993: 175; Putnam and Feldstein, 2003). His only concession was that extended family provided social capital of sorts, but was the field of women rather than men (Putnam, 2000: 25 and 94). Eva Cox criticises this conceptualisation, suggesting Putnam’s focus on ‘definable’ public organisations is too narrow and reflects a gendered view and a separation of the ‘public and private spheres’ (Cox, 1995: 21).

Portes (1998) provides a useful definition of social capital that draws together the salient features of Coleman, Bourdieu and Putnam. Social capital is ‘the ability to secure benefits through membership in networks and other social structures’, on either side of which exist sources (reciprocity, solidarity and trust) that flow in and consequences (social control, family support and network-mediated benefits) that flow out (Portes, 1998: 8). In putting forward this definition, Portes identifies a range of core dimensions that constitute social capital, while also looking at the temporal process through the flow of sources and consequences. Like Coleman, he argues that social capital’s ‘theoretical promise’ derives from its ability to examine social complexity at the individual level.

Others also argue that social capital relates to immediate and personal connections (Onyx and Bullen, 2001), with familial relationships and bonding capital found to be particularly powerful in accessing broader resources (Darcy et al., 2014). However, there is a bias towards men’s experiences in the literature. What is written about women tends to suggest a gender stereotyping of group membership, with sport the domain of men and voluntary work the domain of women (Gidengil and O’Neill, 2006; Lowndes, 2000). As such, seeing social capital through a gendered lens is important in contributing to social capital debates. There may be differences in the way social capital is distributed, its nature and the way in which it is used (Gidengil and O’Neill, 2006). Because of social conceptions of being a woman, where others are put first over and above the self, relationships are significant to women’s development of a sense of self – their relationality or connectedness with others being central to a woman’s identity and, by association, their mental health (Chodorow, 1978; Stoppard, 2000). Women’s self-salience leads to internalising conflicts that are more likely to be managed by seeking social support (Rosenfield and Mouzon, 2013). Exploring social capital at the micro-level through women’s sport participation may illuminate a particular gendered experience (Osborne et al., 2009). The potential benefits of bonding and cognitive social capital may be experienced more powerfully by women as these concepts align with the importance of women’s informal social interactions (Ferlander et al., 2016; Pahl, 2000).

Ray Pahl’s conception of social capital could be particularly appropriate in exploring women’s experiences, given his preference for the focus on the individual, the quality of the relationship and its fluidity over time (Pahl, 2000). Friendship and family interconnect as friendship is family of choice with bonds developed through shared experiences (Pahl, 2000). Pahl connects accumulation of investments with the quality of connections rather than merely their existence (Pahl, 2000). His focus on social connections over time fills a quality gap evident in many other social capital empirical studies. An individual’s network at any one point is only a snapshot, whereas communities span entire lives with associated fluctuating social capital. Pahl (2000) highlights the intricacies of friendship development and supports available, that space and time is required for such relationships to develop but also that they can provide significant support during major transitions such as grief (Pahl, 2000). These significant friendships are ‘family-like’ (Pahl, 2000) and he calls such networks ‘personal communities’ (Pahl, 2000: 145), counteracting Putnam’s focus on formal social connections (see Spencer and Pahl, 2006). Focusing on the complexity of an individual’s social worlds may better evaluate contemporary social life (Spencer and Pahl, 2006). Such focus should be on the nature and form of personal communities, as ‘individuals are more likely to feel loved, esteemed, valued … in some forms of personal community rather than others’ (Pahl, 2000: 146).

For the purposes of this paper we draw upon Portes’ definition and Coleman’s micro-level conceptualisation. However, in order to provide a more gendered examination of the concept, we engage with Pahl’s concept of personal community and the quality and fluidity of such social relationships over time.

Social capital, sport and its increasing professionalisation

Community-based sports clubs have long been considered key sites for social capital development and broader societal benefits (Adams, 2014; Putnam, 1993; Spaaij, 2011a, 2011b), deriving from an exchange of services between individuals, clubs and local businesses (Atherley, 2006; Hoye and Nicholson, 2011b; Viladrich, 2005). The connections between sport, social capital and community health have led to an increase in sport for development programmes (Spaaij, 2011b). Spaaij (2011a) argues that most people engage in sport for enjoyment, health, and to be with friends and family. In his study of Australian rural sport, Spaaij found that sport clubs are community hubs fostering social interaction that benefit physical and mental health, reflecting both structural and cognitive social capital, and developing bonding and bridging social capital (Spaaij, 2011a). Kobayashi et al. (2013) found football in Vanuatu, and Darcy et al. (2014) found surf life-saving clubs in Australia, provided familial relationships and bonding capital. Studies may indicate that sport involvement is associated with higher levels of social connectedness but these do not necessarily measure the nature or quality of participants’ involvement (Hoye et al., 2015).

Women’s experiences of social capital are still relatively unknown. A study of US college athletes found women playing team sports held more social capital than those playing individual sports and men playing team sports (Clopton, 2012). Clopton articulated that such a finding was due to women deriving ‘communal values’ from a team environment and argued that social capital derived from team sport benefitted women more than men because of their ability to sustain deeper and more meaningful relationships over time (Clopton, 2012: 280). Hargreaves, through interviews in an English women’s soccer club, highlights social support amongst the participating women and the value of social networks in the form of mutual encouragement and empathy to develop confidence and self-esteem in addition to the sense of belonging through mutual obligation to both the club and each other (Hargreaves, 1994). Yet sport can also be a site for exclusionary practices (Spaaij, 2011b; Walseth, 2006). Walseth’s interviews with 21 young Norwegian Muslim women found that, despite the presence of forms of belonging, some participants highlighted experiences of isolation and exclusion (Walseth, 2006).

The context within which social capital is developed may be as important as the quality of relationships. In Australia, and internationally, there appears to be an increasing professionalisation of community-based sport, particularly where government policy seeks to increase participation rates and success at the elite level (Hoye and Nicholson, 2011a). Professionalisation is seen through increasingly formalised policies and regulations, and the establishment of commercial type practices such as formalised boards to run clubs. Studies in the UK and Sweden argue that increasing professionalisation can have significant negative effects on clubs’ survival more broadly. Government support aligned with formalised club management marginalises those less formalised clubs (Nichols and James, 2008), whilst the drive for competition, expansion and access to resources threatens the idealism of ‘sport for all’ when only the commercially successful clubs remain (Sjöblom and Fahlén, 2010). In Australia, the focus has transitioned to reviving and sustaining Australian international sporting success by increasing the number of players who can play at an elite level through promoting capability, capacity, efficiency and effectiveness at grass roots (Sotiriadou, 2009). While government policy seeks to increase participation rates overall, it has been somewhat sporadic and inconsistent with programmes predominantly focused on children and often short-lived.(Hoye and Nicholson, 2011a) However, with funding and resources often connected to success and such success being achieved through increasing professionalisation and commercialisation of sports, there is a possibility that this will result in tensions arising within traditionally community-focused sports clubs. A club’s social fabric may be damaged.

Through a gendered lens, this paper critically examines a local sports club as a site for social capital development. The study having been conducted over time enables reflection on the organisational and cultural changes arising from increased professionalisation and their impact on traditional and perceived benefit networks.

‘I guess it’s that camaraderie’: Unity

The term camaraderie means fellowship, being a member of a family and friendship group, and sharing in activities. The term was used by several participants throughout the study: ‘You get to share your wins… you get to share your triumphs, you get to share your losses… I guess it’s that camaraderie’ [Emma, 1 (note that 1 refers to interview 1; 2 refers to interview 2)]. The older participants, those in their late 40s and 50s, indicated that such a culture had an extensive history at the Club:

oh I remember the club rooms, it was a bash! Oh it was terrific! Real, really good camaraderie, really good camaraderie. [Christine, 1]

This history seeps out of the current club room walls, covered in decades of team photos and winning flags that, together with multiple honour boards, invite a genealogical study of local families. The Club promotes itself as family-oriented, a place of whole family acceptance and togetherness. Yet Christine’s comment was reflecting on a period of time when there were only two teams. Its current size – encompassing two pitches, large club rooms and spectator stands, with junior, men’s and women’s sections, the latter already up to nine women’s teams spanning the breadth of state competition, and additional veteran teams – was starting to put a strain on the historical camaraderie and family culture.

The dramatic growth in size has predominantly been driven by the Club’s managing committee. Talented juniors were seeking opportunities at other clubs as the Club was not consistently remaining in the top level of competition in the state. Due to both a desire to be seen as one of the best Clubs, measured in competitive success, and to prevent further loss of its talented juniors, the Club’s primary aim was to attain and sustain promotion to the highest level. There was an additional time pressure to achieve this goal, with the state-based organisation changing the competition structure to create a premier league in attempts to increase its competitiveness against other states. The Club’s strategy before and during the study period appeared to be to increase junior memberships, as the future lifeblood of the Club and to provide greater selection opportunities from player depth, as well as to ‘pay’ their way into the premier league through hiring talented overseas players.

However, tensions arose between this driven, success-focused ambition, and the historical camaraderie and traditional ‘tight knit’ [Gail, 1] culture. Some older, established players within the Club displayed indignation at increasingly individualistic behaviour amongst those competing for promotion to higher teams, describing it as ‘cockiness and an arrogance’ that ‘should be smacked out’ [Alison, 1].

Conflict within the top teams became prevalent as individuals were impacted by the Club’s competitive drive. Vanessa described a pervasive disunity in one of the top teams, as individuals clamoured for positions:

people actually had fights on the field… Like they were actually telling each other off on field…. [Vanessa, 2]

With the focus of the Club on attaining and then sustaining a place in the top level of competition, it seemed from the perspectives of the participants that camaraderie was evolving into individualism and everyone being out for themselves. Some of the older players who had been used to playing in the Club’s higher level teams expressed fatigue with keeping up with such an ambitious drive. Training was compulsory for two nights per week and extensive selection policies started to take shape as arguments over who had been selected, and why, started to become the predominant weekly conversation during the competitive season. These older players asked to play in a separate team with more relaxed training requirements but, because of their talent, were still playing at a sufficiently skilled level of competition. However, even though this team was made up mostly of friends it still suffered declining cohesiveness. As the team was considered experienced, it was left to fend for itself. The lack of support was keenly felt amongst those playing, with one Club member from another team describing the on-field atmosphere:

the environment was just awful, black… one of the girls from the opposition team she said to me ‘what is wrong with this team?’ she said ‘it’s awful … you can just feel it’. [Wendy, 2]

The competitive culture drove a wedge between players, increasing fractions as individuals fought for selection. Vanessa explained that the complex selection policies and practices bred feelings of fear and disappointment:

they are getting pushed to be there and they’re injured and they’re still playing, because they’re so paranoid or petrified I suppose that if they don’t go to training or keep playing they’re going to lose their spot and that’s the win at all costs, and these weird policies they were bringing in – if you’re out for two games and you have to come back through the 3rds before you can come back up into the 2nds and the 1sts … what does that do to your psyche? [Vanessa, 2]

Such policies set apart an individual from a team, isolating players from team mates and support. There are several networks at play. There are an individual’s close friends who may or may not be in the same team, then there are the teams themselves, sharing their wins and losses. These both sit within the broader network of the women’s section of Club. Through these isolating selection policies, team mates were split apart and the individual sense of worth became fragile. Their access to peer support through team bonding was limited at perhaps the very time they needed such support.

Teams were also geographically separated which appeared to break down connections between the teams and close friendships. The top two teams trained on one pitch with the rest clamouring for space on the other. As the Club rooms are positioned between the pitches, teams cannot physically see one other. When women arrive to training, they split left or right depending on skill level and the potential for social connection is removed. Leanne explained that her desire to support the broader networks within the Club diminished over time. She could no longer physically connect, subsequently losing an emotional connection:

I reckon it was a bit more social and I cared more about what was happening with the [top side] when I knew the girls, because … they used to do combined training … and that was great because I would speak to people in the 1sts, say ‘how’d you go on the weekend?’ I might have even gone to the grand final but now I don’t know anyone in the 1sts so why would I bother, I don’t actually care about anyone to go and watch them. [Leanne, 2]

Team resources were also divided, with the higher teams receiving more despite paying the same fees as other members. Janine reflected on the fact that lower teams are merely trying to survive rather than thrive: ‘They don’t have a coach, they’re surviving on their own’ [Janine, 1].

With increasing fragmentation, new members became disillusioned. Kerrie was never able to reconcile her initial impressions with those she built after she joined, and she eventually left the Club:

I thought it would be more sociable than what it is, and they definitely market themselves as being … a really sociable club but I question that, I think that there’s a lot of interwoven families that are very social and there seems to be these old established groups but overall there’s no social. [sic] [Kerrie, 1]

The professionalised practices undertaken by the Club in its drive for competitive success were breaking the bonds of various existing networks, fracturing the unity of the teams and the Club.

‘[T]he whole team depend on me as I depend on them’: Family-like practices

For some of the participants, the Club had become family. Close bonds through shared interests and a ready-made family and friendship network provided significant emotional supports. The networks outside of hockey were considered by Kathryn as ‘a different breed’ whilst Kerrie acknowledged greater emotional support from her hockey friends because only they understood the emotional investment in playing:

having your hockey friends and being able to sit there and just obsess about hockey with people that equally love hockey like that’s … really nice to share … my friends sort of, like say ‘you haven’t played, this is really shit’ sort of thing whereas friends who aren’t sporty, it’s like ‘oh, you’ve got all this free time, how great is it?!’ and I’m like pulling my hair out! [Kerrie, 1]

The bonds and associated emotional support between those sharing the joys of playing hockey is akin to familial support. Through key moments in life, these networks could provide significant social support, as Gail describes:

the 12 months before were really good for me mentally, exhilarating and a lot of satisfaction because I think I was working through separation and feeling very supported by team and club. [Gail, 2]

Provision of material supports deriving from being a member of the Club’s broader network was also experienced. Kathryn, as a top level player, was well known within the Club, and financial opportunities became available through Club contacts. Club members looked after their own kin in this micro-community of multiple networks. Vanessa, having moved interstate, explains how one Club member treated her like a daughter, providing her with furniture for her new home:

she said ‘oh my daughter’s moving out, I’ve got all this stuff’, she came around on the weekend with her husband and a trailer, brought me a couch, a TV, bedside tables, lamp, all this stuff, almost furnished my apartment for me… I didn’t know her, she didn’t know me, just out of the goodness of her heart… that sort of atmosphere does make you feel welcome, especially when I’m here, no family. [Vanessa, 1]

Such material support cannot be separated from emotional support. The very act of giving something, be it material or an opportunity, made Vanessa feel cared for. Young mothers also found support on match days when the Club community is called on to care for children. Emma, without child care for an afternoon, found endless arms to hold her baby whilst she played. The Club was a community in and of itself, reflecting a broad notion of family with its emotional and material supports.

Such support was reciprocated by individuals. During the study, a couple of participants described how individuals’ devotion to their Club was expressed through the re-mortgaging of their own homes in order to finance the construction of a second pitch. For them, ‘the club was everything’ [Nicola, 1] with such extensive support unlikely to exist today. Ellen explained how the older generation of the Club were the ‘work horses’, doing ‘the work of 20 people’ [Ellen, 1]. As these members have moved on, few members have taken their place and subsequently the Club struggles to fill the roles necessary for maintaining a Club of this magnitude. That familial devotion to the Club as a whole has dwindled. Where members used to offer support, the Club now has to demand assistance. A company style hierarchical chart was placed on the wall for people to insert their names. The Club financially incentivised umpiring duty. However, during the study period many of the jobs remained unassigned.

The Club members that do volunteer at the Club are invariably older with a core group doing the bulk of the work. Younger or higher level players do little. Nicola, having been at the Club since she was young, was angry at this decreasing reciprocity and blamed it on an influx of juniors and a societal generational change where younger people rarely give back:

I think kids these days, jesus, half the time they don’t even want to pick up balls just so you can get the drills going so what makes you think they’re going to volunteer? [Nicola, 1]

Yet, with the Club’s professional practices dismantling social bonds, the strength of a concept such as norm of reciprocity also appears to splinter. A sense of duty remained only towards one’s team rather than the Club as a whole:

as much as I might be tired or not enjoying myself … I can’t stop, … the whole team depend on me as I depend on them on the field … you can’t let people down like that. [Nicola, 1]

The participants appeared more likely to invest their time in supporting those with whom they had a personal connection and dependency, rather than the Club which had become more of a professionalised entity than a home.

‘I’m home’: Belonging to the Club

The Club as a micro-community provided familial belonging, particularly to those who had moved interstate: ‘family for me that I didn’t have when I moved here’ [Vanessa, 1]. Gail, now in her fifties, continues to see the team she has played with since her twenties as her family, belonging to each other through shared life experiences. During an interview, Gail was still overwhelmed with emotion when she described how her team had worn black armbands when her mother died many years before. She lovingly pointed to an old team photo on the Club room’s wall, with many of them still playing together. During a recent stressful experience, she expressed how coming back to this team was like ‘coming home’ [Gail, 1].

The familial friendships she described existed throughout much of their lives, developing bonds that have seen them through significant life events:

we know each other growing up together so there is that bond… seeing different ones through their weddings and their children being born and separations or whatever, loss of husbands. [Gail, 2]

The sense of belonging to her close network has developed over decades. Nicola, having been there since she was 10 years old, says the Club has become part of who she is: ‘I’ve grown up here and the club just becomes part of who you are’ [Nicola, 1]. However, that deep sense of belonging to the Club is also being eroded. The Club’s competitive focus places a higher value on its highest playing members. The sense of belonging may be increasingly dependent upon such a perceived value. Kathryn was aware of this, as a top level player and having received opportunities as a result of her position:

I think it’s friendly, overall… everyone’s welcome kind of place… I don’t know if I would feel like that if I wasn’t a good player. [Kathryn, 1]

Kerrie’s experience of the Club was both as a new player and as an absent player through injury and illness. This inhibited her ability to connect to a particular team and build that sense of belonging. When speaking with her, she often looked off into the distance, hesitating as she was speaking. It was evident that she was literally trying to ‘find’ her place, her isolation increasingly apparent: ‘I suppose I’m still working out my place at [the Club]’ [Kerrie, 1].

As our conversation continued, the references to practices of exclusion increased. Without a particular team and lacking value to the Club through perceived inability to play, she gave insight into the emotional challenges when social connections are underdeveloped. Kerrie talked about ‘selective texting’ amongst the senior women players arranging social events. She felt excluded because she was not necessarily contacted to join in. As fears of isolation grew, even her right to attend was brought into question:

the fact that you’re not playing you are like a bit excluded, you’re not a part of the team … it’s a bit awkward … it’s sort of should you go or shouldn’t you go? Are you welcome, are you not welcome? [Kerrie, 1]

In a Club that holds itself out as family focused, with such strong intergenerational ties, it could certainly be difficult to connect here. The structural separations of teams frustrate attempts to connect and if you are not playing in a team, there are few, if any, avenues for connection.

Vanessa and Gail presented dramatic changes in their feelings of belonging. Following political conflicts, focus on success and an influx of junior players, the second conversations with them suggested a cynicism and lack of desire to remain: ‘I’m at the point where I’m questioning do I play again this year?’ [Vanessa, 2].

During our first conversation, Gail and her old teammates all played in a veteran side (vets) together. However, over a year later, a second vets team had been established after the original had won the season and been promoted to the top grade. The Club started to impose training requirements: to play in the top grade they had to train each week. Not wanting to train, all except Gail remained in the lower grade and younger vets formed the top side. This had a dramatic impact on Gail. She was no longer with her ‘family’ and expressed cynicism at the Club’s management: ‘the club wanted everyone to train. The team that made the [higher] grade comp shouldn’t play in the [higher] grade comp. Yeah, anyway…’ [Gail, 2].

The sense of belonging that some participants expressed could be so strong as to suggest that the Club and those within it were family. However, for those that did not feel that they belonged, the isolation and sense of exclusion was powerful enough for them to question remaining at the Club.