Today marks the official end to our summer. Just as I was whooping for joy that the bloody cricket was finished, the males of the house have started talking about Roosters, Eels, Swans and Wallabies. Yep, footy season has well and truly arrived.
If you’re a footy widow like me, prepare yourselves. Check out how long the professional footy seasons go for:
NRL – 6th March till 5th October
AFL March 14th till 27th September
Super Rugby – 15 Feb till 2 August
Wallabies Test Matches 7th June till 18th October
I get into the Wallabies tests, only because it’s the only game I feel comfortable enough to yell at the referee.
Rugby training starts tonight. This is the beginning of every Friday night from now until October where many mothers will spend two hours in the afternoon screaming about mouth guards, training gear, warm clothing and if you’re like me, trying to convince a 3 year old and 14 month old to keep their shoes on. Then we stand in howling winds and sub zero temperatures trying to find our kids in the sea of red headgear whilst arguing with self that $2 sausages in bread at the Footy Club are a perfectly nutritious dinner.
Don’t get me wrong, I think team sports should be compulsory for all kids, but when you have this many kids, goodbye weekends. This year we have netball, basketball and rugby on Saturdays. Rugby again on Sundays. There’s no longer time for a social life, weekend sports are our social life.
After 6 years of watching her brothers playing footy, Miss 6 starts netball this year. She is so excited she’s sleeping in her uniform. Somehow I got roped into playing coach. I thought this would be a no brainer. Some ball skills, bit of shooting practice and off we go. It appears a lot has changed in 20 years. We are now training future Netball Diamonds. After waking with a glorious hangover last weekend I got a lift to the local courts for a coaching session. The courts are a good half hour away and I got geographically confused after two sets of traffic lights. No idea how we’ll get there on game day.
I was confused from the get go. 3ft is now 4ft, a shuffle is not really stepping, 3 seconds is now 5 seconds and the posts are low enough for me to be able to slam dunk. Hang on, that’s basketball…MUST NOT GET SPORTS CONFUSED AND TEACH 6 YEAR OLDS HOW TO SLAM DUNK. There is no swearing and absolutely no running up and down the court screaming like a mad woman. I am screwed. There are two 25 x page documents of set weekly drills that we are to follow in our skills sessions (not training, skills sessions) oh and you have to be the umpire too – this is going to be HILARIOUS. It’s serious stuff. The highlight? Game starts at 8am. Must leave home about 7:00am, allowing for time to get lost. Brrrr……it’s still dark and frost is on the ground at that time. Goodbye Friday night socializing.
Much is written about the WAGS of famous sports stars. For all the sarcasm that I can pour over the lives of WAGS, you know corporate boxes, hair, make up, carefully chosen outfits for brief shot on tele, champagne, green smoothies, 24/7 fitness regimes and all that……..it wouldn’t be a bad life. So I’ve decided that I will no longer whinge and bitch about sports taking up our weekends. Who knows, one day we may just end up as MAGSS…..Mothers of Great Sports Stars.