The Death of a Free Game: How Newcastle Beach’s Surf Club Lost Its Community Spirit
For the last fifty years, at around 3pm, you’d find them.
A ragtag bunch of Novocastrians wandering down to the beach, shirts off, feet in the sand, tossing a ball around in the simplest of rituals: touch footy. No scoreboard. No sponsors. No cost. Just play.
It’s been the heartbeat of Newcastle beach life. For some, decades of afternoons spent running, laughing, ribbing each other, then cooling off with a shower in the surf club before heading back to the rest of life. Simple. Beautiful. Human.
But simplicity doesn’t sell.
And now, the surf club — the so-called community organisation — has shut its doors to three or four old boys who’ve carried this ritual, this culture, this joy for half a century. They can’t store the balls or towel off anymore. Instead, they wander across the street to drop their gear at a café that still sees the value in kindness.
And that’s the punchline of our times, isn’t it?
The café holds more community spirit than the community club.
This is what happens when everything gets swallowed by capitalism’s hungry mouth. When organisations meant to serve people start serving profit margins, image, and “the right clientele.” When we forget that belonging doesn’t need to be polished or profitable, just human.
What’s lost?
Not just showers and storage. Not just convenience. But connection. Laughter. The kind of slow, sticky friendship that only comes from decades of showing up for each other, rain or shine. A free game on the beach is worth more than a million membership fees, but try telling that to a ledger.
So, who owns the surf club?
A board? A brand? Or the people who’ve poured half a century of life into its walls and sand? Who does a community organisation exist for if not the community?
When kindness dies, when play dies, when the free and simple delights are fenced off, we’re left with a barren beach — not of sand and water, but of spirit. And the saddest part? We’re starting to shrug it off as normal.
Maybe it’s time to remember:
Not everything needs to be monetised. Not everyone needs to be the “right” kind of member. And sometimes, the best thing we can do is just let people play.
By Evan Sutter.