The case of Sachi Dade against the Melbourne Football Club and two of its senior staff raises several questions, but one is bigger than the rest.
Why didn’t the AFL conduct an investigation?
Dade, partner of retired prime minister Steven May, He is suing the Devils, coach Steven King and football boss Alan Richardson for allegedly violating his privacy.
He says in court documents he raised his concerns about the now-famous Microsoft Teams meeting of Melbourne players’ partners with “the MFC and the AFL Players Association (including the AFL Integrity Unit). The responses from the MFC and the AFL were slow and concerns and complaints were not resolved”.
The Devils have apologized for the February meeting where private information related to May and Dade was allegedly distributed.
However, despite the club admitting wrongdoing, the AFL’s Integrity Unit did not launch a formal investigation.
A senior source familiar with the case, speaking on condition of anonymity because the matter is now in court, suggested to this reporter that Dade did not want the league to intervene, but insisted he wanted the AFL to facilitate a meeting between him and Melbourne to address his concerns.
The meeting never happened.
In an era where the AFL is investigating everything from betting breaches to social media behaviour, the decision not to launch an investigation seems unusual.
At its core, the question addresses the ongoing boundaries between governance, privacy and institutional responsibility in professional sports. It is not just a procedural issue, but one that invites scrutiny of how the AFL defines its authority in matters that concern personal welfare and corporate conduct.
After receiving a formal complaint, AFLPA boss James Gallagher called the AFL.
The integrity department regularly investigates allegations involving players, coaches, officials and club staff. But when it came to Melbourne revealing sensitive personal information, the AFL chose to leave the matter with the club.
The obvious question is why?
Was it because the AFL saw the incident as a matter of internal governance rather than a breach of integrity?
Is it because no individual complaints were made directly to league headquarters?
Or was the AFL afraid of getting into another personal row after its handling of the Luke Sayers indecent photo scandal generated criticism and court drama of its own?
Whatever the explanation, the decision has become harder to ignore now that the matter is before the Federal Court.
Because if suspicion is large enough to take legal action for emotional distress claimshumiliation and psychological harm, critics will doubtless question whether they were careful enough to warrant an investigation from the game’s integrity watchdog.
The tension exposes further ambiguity in how the AFL defines its role. The league, over time, expanded its reach beyond on-field matters, positioning itself as a regulator of behavior, culture and welfare in all competitions. It has intervened in cases involving racism, gambling, drugs and workplace behavior, often citing its duty to protect the integrity and reputation of the game.
This case seems to sit in a gray area. It involves allegations of breach of privacy and duty of care, but within a club environment rather than through overt misconduct that directly threatens the integrity of competition. That difference may have informed the AFL’s decision to backtrack, but it also raises questions about consistency.
The comparison with Sayers’ episode is instructive. In that case, the circulation of a personal photo involving the then-Carlton president on his social media account quickly escalated into a league-wide issue, galvanizing the AFL amid concerns about privacy, reputational damage and governance.
The setbacks showed how personal matters can quickly become matters of institutional consequence when they intersect with the sport’s public profile.
It also highlighted the sensitivities the AFL faces when dealing with private information. The Sayers investigation, which cleared Sayers of wrongdoing and is now the subject of defamation lawsuits brought by Luke’s estranged wife Cate, reinforced the dangers associated with meddling in matters that intersect with matters of personal privacy.
Perhaps the league would say it intervened in Sayers’ case because of the public nature of the post. Perhaps league officials hoped Dade’s claims would quietly disappear.
They haven’t.
Sayers’ post, on X, involved the club sponsor, the club president and his marriage. The Melbourne meeting involved the player, his partner and about a dozen team members. So why did the AFL investigate one and not the other?
If the AFL is willing to investigate off-field behavior that could risk brand damage, why not investigate cases where a club has admitted to mishandling sensitive personal information? And if the league defers to clubs in such matters, what safeguards are there to ensure accountability other than an internal apology?
There is also an introductory question. By choosing not to investigate, the AFL may have signaled that certain types of conduct are outside its purview, even when they interfere with player welfare and privacy. That could have implications for how future events are handled, especially as clubs increasingly focus on complex issues involving mental health, personal relationships and confidential information.
For Melbourne, the matter is now in the hands of the courts. But for the AFL, the scrutiny is unlikely to go away.
Ultimately, the issue is not just whether the AFL should have investigated, but what its decision reveals about the limits of its powers and the expectations placed on them.
And in an environment where public trust is linked to perceptions of transparency and accountability, the AFL may find that choosing not to act could be the same outcome as any investigation it undertakes.
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