Insights from the participation front line

By Anna Walker

6th January 2025

I came into sport participation with the same belief most people in this field hold: that sport can enhance people’s lives - and that if we could just get more people through the door, the benefits to them would follow.

I grew up playing sport a lot – in clubs and in pathways. I was good at sport, and sport was good to me. It gave me confidence, friendships, identity and opportunity. I grew up active, capable and assured. So when I chose a career in the same sector, it felt purposeful. I genuinely believed I was helping others experience what sport had given me.

Like many participation leaders, I worked hard and cared deeply. I followed global best practice. I built strategies. As a government employee, I invested in facilities. In peak bodies, I ran programs, trained coaches, organised competitions. I travelled across countries trying to get more people into sport. I was surrounded by smart, committed people who wanted sport to succeed.

And yet despite all that effort, something wasn’t shifting.

Participation rates weren’t growing in any meaningful way. Dropout was rising, particularly through the teenage years. The same groups were consistently underrepresented. Clubs were stretched, volunteers were burning out, and funding pressure was increasing. Across Australia, New Zealand and the UK - contexts I worked in closely - the story was remarkably similar.

We weren’t short on passion.

We weren’t short on plans.

But we were losing people.

For a long time, I thought the answer was to try harder. Better marketing. More programs. New formats. Tweaks around the edges. Like many of us, I carried the quiet frustration of doing everything “right” and still watching the numbers slide the wrong way.

The real shift came when I stopped asking, “Why won’t people engage?”and started asking, “Who was this system actually designed for?”

That question was uncomfortable, because it turned the mirror back on people like me.

I came to see that most sport systems are still designed by those they’ve always worked for. People who were able-bodied, confident, competitive, supported, and rewarded by traditional pathways. People who stayed.

I was one of them.

That didn’t make me a villain. But it did make me part of a blind spot.

We were building strategies based on our own experiences, surrounded by others with similar stories, and then wondering why large parts of the community weren’t responding. We told ourselves our doors were open without noticing how narrow those doors still were, or how many people were being quietly filtered out along the way.

The data confirmed what lived experience was already telling us. Up to 70% of young people drop out of organised sport by their mid-teens. Participation drops sharply after childhood and rarely returns. Membership doesn’t reflect community diversity. And too many clubs are now fighting for relevance, viability and survival.

Ten years ago I found myself at a juncture. Frustrated and exhausted, I had to make a decision.

I could walk away. Blame culture, tradition, volunteers, funding, or “the system.” Or I could take responsibility for the fact that if I could see the problem, I had a role to play in addressing it.

That was the moment my work changed.

I launched my consultancy and named it From Now On to mark the decision point, to hold myself accountable for doing things differently. At the same time, I became a mother. That sharpened my resolve. I became more determined than ever that sport would be a force for good in my son’s life, not an exclusive club he or his mates might or might not be invited into.

I stopped trying to make people love the game and started asking how we might make the game something people love being part of.

That shift led me to listen more deeply, not just to those who thrive, but to those who struggle, or quietly leave – or never walk through the door of sport in the first place. It led me to evolve my understanding of inclusion - not just as a moral extra, but as a growth strategy and a sustainability imperative. It also amplified my thirst for data, so I could build insight that helps leaders understand who their community actually is, who they’re missing, and why.

Over time, it became clear that the sports organisations best positioned for the future aren’t the ones doubling down on tradition or performance alone. They’re the ones redefining success around community, retention, belonging and impact. They’re measuring what matters to people and growing the game with their communities, not simply for them.

I created From Now On for participation leaders who already know sport can be better,  but are under-resourced, under-supported and under too much pressure to redesign it alone.

My role isn’t to lecture sports what they’re doing wrong. It’s to stand alongside leaders as they navigate change that is necessary, complex and often uncomfortable. To help them see clearly, focus effort where it matters most, do things differently even in change-resistant communities, and build sporting spaces people genuinely want to stay in. To give participation and inclusion leaders the tools, evidence and confidence to act - without adding noise.

We cannot widen the door to sport if we only listen to the people who’ve always walked through it. And participation leaders deserve success with less struggle, less burnout and less misalignment. Because at a time of declining physical activity, growing disconnection and increasing pressure on communities, the world does not just need sport to exist.

It needs sport to thrive.