AFL chief executive Gillon McLachlan: A more miss than hit tenure at the helm of the league. Photo: AFL MEDIA

AFL chief executive Gillon McLachlan has turned out to be what we feared he might, and what he told us he wouldn’t be … out of touch.

It seems churlish to note at the outset that McLachlan is an ultra-confident, polo-playing member of South Australian farming royalty.

But it’s this personal detail that has informed the perception – and perhaps the reality – that McLachlan lacks the common touch required to properly connect with the AFL masses, a perception which has seemingly not been lost on the man himself.

Upon his appointment as league boss in 2014, McLachlan sought to reassure us.

“I understand the passion of football,” he said then. “I have been part of the community of football and I know how important it is … I have had my fair share of cold showers and freezing committee meetings.”

He then went on to speak of his vision of the game “having an unassailable hold on the Australian community”, before offering a basis by which his administration could be judged. “Success in delivering on this vision will mean ultimately three things; we are truly national, we are truly representative and we are truly connected to the community.”

But before passing judgement on McLachlan’s AFL, let’s frame the context.

This is where one would usually point out the many challenges faced by an administration, whether it be problems inherited from the former regime or wider issues affecting the game.

And granted, McLachlan has had to contend with the growing pains of the two expansion clubs – Gold Coast and Greater Western Sydney – established during his predecessor Andrew Demetriou’s reign.

You can throw in taking on Essendon’s uber-ugly supplements scandal, too.

But by and large – and certainly when compared to its local sports competitors – running the AFL should have been like operating a driverless car.

After all, this is a wildly popular, dynamic sport that has not been bowed by many of the issues – think off-field behavioural woes (NRL), superior overseas equivalent (soccer), fight for relevancy (rugby union) and cultural crisis (men’s cricket) – that have plagued its domestic rivals.

Against this backdrop, one could have understood McLachlan adopting a relatively low profile, light touch approach to running the game.

Needless to say, this is not how things have played out under the former University Blues ruckman’s watch.

While the launch of AFLW represents a shining light in McLachlan’s reformation project and the recently announced State of Origin bushfire relief a fantastic initiative, it has been more miss than hit for his swing-happy regime.

Perhaps most glaring has been his administration’s penchant for tweaking, or threatening to tweak, the game’s rules or the way in which they are to be interpreted.

Last year saw a raft of changes, including the introduction of the 6-6-6 centre bounce starting positions aimed at facilitating more free-flowing football.

This summer debate has raged over the mooted shortening of half time breaks and the introduction of a “captain’s challenge” system for goal umpiring decisions.

And don’t forget the interpretative tweaks applied to the always-confusing holding the ball and hands-in-the-back rules, to name just a couple, that came before them.

Nor the lead balloon that was the AFL’s ultimately aborted idea to trial rules in-season back in 2018.

Of course, it wouldn’t be lost on AFL fans that a degree of rule tinkering is required for any game to keep up with the times.

But the difficulty in reconciling the sheer number of changes proposed, together with the questionable efficacy of those introduced, with the rude health of the game, is what has alienated so many.

That and the fact that the proposals have been made by an administration that has otherwise done little to inspire confidence in its ability to read the room. AFLX, anyone? Need I say more?

Then there is the largely broken match review and tribunal systems that McLachlan has overseen. The inconsistency and conflicts that have come to define these bodies is one thing.

But AFL headquarters failing to adopt a zero-tolerance approach to anything remotely resembling an intentional head high hit, despite the mortal threat to the game posed by concussion and the glaring example of the NFL, remains baffling.

There is also the AFL’s self-confessed bungling of the Adam Goodes booing saga and the complete lack of awareness shown by McLachlan in last season publicly expressing his desire for free agent Stephen Coniglio to remain at GWS.

And now we have news of the AFL renewing its gambling partnership deal with BetEasy.

A decision made despite the near-universal appreciation of the damaging effects of gambling and those of some clubs, far more cash-strapped than the AFL, managing to wean themselves off pokies revenue.

Which leads us back to those three KPIs in respect of which we were told McLachlan’s AFL should be judged.

And while it would be difficult for anyone to argue that this administration has so far been “truly representative” or “truly connected to the community” for the reasons outlined above, it’s the final “truly national” criteria that will likely define McLachlan’s legacy.

For it remains curious that an administration that has been so hell bent on implementing reforms, many not called for, nor welcomed by the people, has yet to introduce the most populist of requested changes, a standalone AFL team in Tasmania.

If McLachlan really does understand the “passion of football”, he would appreciate Tasmanian football goes to the very heart of it.

Perhaps it’s time McLachlan had one of those cold showers he told us about when he took over, and actually started giving the people what they want.