I am an avid non-sportser.
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I don't read, watch or do sports. I'm not even the kind of non-sportser that comes out of hibernation every four years for the Olympics. So much so, should vital sports events occur as part of the news cycle and intersect with my role, my colleagues leave me little explainers (thank you all).
And all of this makes me highly qualified to write at you about the Matildas. Why?
Because if those girls have reached even me, there have to be only a few Australians left untouched by the hard work, commitment and success of the squad. The videos of people cheering in their homes, jumping for joy at backyard barbecues and hugging random strangers at watch parties in pubs as the Matildas kicked goal after goal against France brought tears to my non-sportsing eyes.
I grew up in a family that celebrated summer with (seemingly endless) televised cricket, followed by backyard cricket when the heat of the day had eased. Weekend tennis matches, a few visits to the Super Trucks and of course the Bathurst 1000. The violent potential of sport struck me speechless when poor Skippy met an untimely end following an accidental introduction to a V8 windscreen. I sat shocked, in the early 2000s, as the race cut to a quick ad break and I vowed never to watch it again. (A quick bit of internet searching tells me this happens frequently enough that there are presumably horrific 'Bathurst kangaroo moment' compilation videos online, but I digress).
As a teen I made a brief attempt to master NRL lingo in an effort to find a shared language with the high school boys on my bus. I gave up when I discovered how many allegations, and sometimes convictions, tainted the league of men those boys looked up to as heroes. And at some point I gave up on being a sportser - one who is part of a community, who has a jersey or a scarf or a hat, who talks about "their" team and "our" performance and suffers the losses and jump for the wins - altogether.
And then the Matildas waltz in and suddenly my colleagues are wearing green or gold to work, a bar in Canberra is making green and gold mimosas, friends from my previous life as a school teacher are inviting me out to watch the games, I'm crying at videos of thousands of strangers celebrating wins on screens of all sizes around the country and world, I want Sam Kerr's calf to be OK, I know Hayley Raso's personal story of triumph and I felt the depths of Chloe Logarzo's emotions as she watched her team succeed from the commentary sidelines.
We have each lived years of isolation and division. And with little reprieve we're now living through rising rents and mortgages and a single bag of groceries being able to exceed $100. And the Matildas have gifted us hours of togetherness - big groups booking up seats at stadiums, families hosting dinners to watch the games, friends who've left it too long given a reason to catch up or debrief.
I'm reliably told by the sportsiest of colleagues that the Matildas had a television audience of more than 4 million for their quarter-final effort - the biggest since Cathy Freeman in 2000. Semi-final viewing outdid that and then some - live television audience for the "Tillies" against England was 11.15 million people, the most watched program since records began. And no men's or women's Australian soccer team has finished third or even fourth at a World Cup until now. They have indeed made history.
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But even more than that - through triumph after triumph and record after record, these female athletes have prompted discussions: if this is what they can achieve with minimal funding, what could they achieve with more? How much do female athletes get paid - and is it enough that the Matildas bring home more having made it to the semi-final, given they've put in years of work (many without the spotlight on them) prior? Why are sponsors finally starting to pay attention? Women have been kicking butt in sports arenas and competitions for years. How do we keep all of this momentum going?
Merchandise is selling out, stadiums are full. People are living, despite the battles the world throws at us all. It is inspiring. People of all sporting persuasions are having meaningful conversations about women, about athletes, about pay, about future opportunities for young sports hopefuls. No doubt the headlines will rue the loss of the Matildas and the end of their 2023 WWC hopes. But our Matildas have given us common ground, shared hopes and national pride - they've brought non-sportsers out of self-imposed exile and have achieved so much more for Australia than simply getting us to a semi-final. That's a bloody giant win.
- Victoria Lee is a writer, teacher and Canberra Times producer.