The Maribyrnong Indoor Sports Centre ground to a halt last night as the Couch Potatos (sic) played a blistering 30 minutes of pure netball mayhem…
OK, so we lost rather emphatically. The score was 5 – 34, but who do you think scored those five goals, eh?
Go on, guess!!
It was me!
I’m pretty sure that the last time I played I was a fresh-faced 10 year-old, the star of the Ashy Aces, with nary a cigarette to have passed my lips. I played either Centre or Wing Attack, which as any fule kno is the position for the most zippy, popular girls, hem hem.
It was quite the experience being jammed into a tiny Hiyundai with four excited lassies, in all that rustling sports gear and sporty water bottles. I had cobbled together the longest shorts I could find (without actually being pants), a tight t-shirt and my Converse – more Avril than Liz Ellis, but at least I looked damn cool, which you must admit is the main thing.
I randomly stuck up my hand for Goal Attack, figuring that I only had to run around two thirds of the court. I was paired with a great beast of a girl who was up in my grill the entire game. Dammit, I remembered those bitches in the 80s – in fact the whole team had a familiar look about them! The Goal Defence and I locked eyes at the start, until she broke off to bawl at her kid:
“DON’T WORRY HONEY MUMMY’S RIGHT HERE – I’M RIGHT HERE SWEETHEART!!”
While the child kept up a continual wail throughout.
So things have changed a bit since my day. As everyne in the team kept reminding the umpire. From the first minute it became quite clear that no-one had played for at least ten years, and that long afternoons over beers at the Retreat had made their toll (I speak of course for everyone). Although for a bunch of people who had never met before, we were not too bad!
The umpire was one of those sheilas who live and breathe the game, and sensing our flounderings started to coach us in an undertone. After every one of their goals she would sprint over and tell us to watch our footwork, or keep moving or whatever. Did anyone know that in indoor netball you can bounce off all the nets? What a modern innovation! And unlike some of the total cows the Ashy Aces used to play, this team was really lovely and even cheered our desultory goals.
Now we have to dream up a better name than the ‘Couch Potatos’, and the best we can get is ‘The Hairy Hornbags’. Any ideas? We all live in the north, had great issues with the hairy bike pant thing, remember our glory days of netball but are too
fat and lazy busy with the cut and thrust of Life to strike any terror into anyone’s bosom – YET.
Watch this space for next week’s thrilling update.