It’s a weekend afternoon in the year 2000 and I’m buzzing. I’m in my peddle pushers, Etnies, and a Supre top, with my hair slicked back in a ponytail. If someone were to ask me what my hobbies were, I’d answer pretty quickly: reading, MSN messenger, and netball.
Am I good at netball? Dear Lord, no. I’m so… short. I play Wing Attack but it’s a miracle if I catch more than one centre pass. I’m slow on my feet and not aggressive enough to compete with other people for the ball. They can have it, it’s honestly fine. But today is special because after my mediocre game this morning — where we’re yet to score a goal this season — I get to watch the professionals play. Women like Liz Ellis and Sharelle McMahon.
I’m going to the netball with my mum and sister, and we're going for the Sydney Swifts — who have since become the NSW Swifts.
For the entirety of the game, I'm in awe. The athleticism. The focus. The pace. The fitness. The accuracy. At times it feels like a completely different sport to what I play, and I can't take my eyes off it.