Thank you, Matildas, for changing absolutely everything.

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Matildas, you've changed absolutely everything. 

There's talk about how, for the little girls kicking balls around suburban football fields, nothing will ever be the same after August, 2023. 

That's true. 

It's said that women's sport is forever altered, that we've just lived through a test case of whether female excellence can attract eyeballs and dollar bills at a level we've always been told was impossible. 

That's true. 

You'll have heard that you brought an often fragmented nation together, giving us something to agree on, something to wish for, something to pull for as one. 

That's true, too. 

But you have done so much more. 

You may not have won on the field in this final game, but every single one of those statements stand. We are so proud of every moment you've played and all you've given. And we are so proud you are ours.

You have taken a flaming match to a whole stinking pile of previously unassailable truths. 

Here are just a few: 

Women don't really care about sport. 

Men don't want to watch women play. 

The women's game is not as exciting as the men's. 

Women just aren't as competitive. 

There is only really one great player in that team. 

Every single footballer in this Women's World Cup has validated every girl and woman who has lived with being given the sporting equivalent of the burnt chop - the crappy field, the boys' kit, the worst fixture of the day.

You've shone a beacon for the girls forever teased for being different, for being "one of the boys" while also being "not as good as the boys", for wanting something they weren't supposed to want so much, so hard, for so long. 

But it's more, even, than sport. 

You have made an entire nation understand that there is nothing second-rate about the work women do. That commitment and teamwork and ambition and self belief are female things. And that the flintiest competitive spirit and clear-eyed professionalism can co-exist with family, with compassion, with fairness and love and an unwavering appreciation for those who play alongside you.  

You've modelled career highs after motherhood, queer excellence, resilience in the face of obstacles (hello, Sam Kerr's calf) and grace in both victory and defeat. 

They say the hardest work is invisible. Particularly the hardest work of women. And so it is. 

For many of us your names are new. Sam. Ellie. Mary. Hayley. Katrina. Mackenzie. Caitlin. Cortnee. Steph. Charlie. Alanna. Kyra. Tameka. Emily. Clare (and Clare and Clare). Lydia. Kyah. Alex. Courtney. Aivi. Teagan.

But you, the women whose names we'll now never forget, are not overnight sensations. 

You stand on the shoulders of the Matildas before you, and we thank them, too. The generations of female footballers who have fought for inclusion and equality and recognition and even just some real grass to play on. The women and coaches who played and trained together around their day jobs, who paid tournament entry fees from their own pockets, who relentlessly fundraised and campaigned and agitated for change in one of the most male-dominated arenas on earth. 

Now there's a path. And your incredible effort has dug floodlights all around it. The pipeline grows with every young girl who picks up a ball after these magical weeks. Investment will come from the big businesses and big sport who look your way and see dollar signs where before they saw tumbleweeds. 

More than anything, Matildas, you've shown us that change is possible. That the status quo is nothing. Progress is joyful. And women can do anything. Okay, we already knew that. 

Thank you, for entertaining us. Thank you for inspiring us. Thank you for giving us something to cheer for. 

Thank you, for changing everything. 

Feature image: Instagram/@matildas