We have been travelling to Canoon Road ever since our daughters were in primary school and each season we have cheered them on and consoled them with the knowledge that it doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's playing and enjoying the game that counts. Now, we Fudges lean more towards the arts than sports and we have never, ever made it to the finals in any sport, let alone won.
Our granddaughter's team had made it to the finals, so we were up at the crack of dawn to once again take on the drive to Canoon Road. How the memories came flooding back. That dreaded feeling in the pit of our stomachs as we prepared to tell our granddaughter that the team had done so well to even reach the finals, bla bla bla. On the bright side we were pleased to see that the venue had improved somewhat and now had coffee and hot snacks available for the spectators. In our day there was nothing - only a few surly and rough looking women running the show who were to be seen later cracking open cans of beer in the bushes. Ah, they were the days.
After a quick pep talk it was time to play. The opposition looked really professional, right down to their hair sprayed in their team colours.
At half time out came the oranges. What is it about oranges? Why not grapes or slices of apple?
We were somewhat surprised to discover that our team was ahead by 3 goals at half time. And we were gobsmacked when the final whistle blew to realise that they had indeed won!
After a quick round of handshakes it was time for the real reason all girls play netball.
So now it's the steady march to the Grand Final next Saturday. Oh my. I may have to resort to a bonus issue of blood pressure tablets or smuggle some wine in an innocent looking thermos. Either way I will be booking the ambulance to be on stand-by. After all, this is uncharted waters and win or lose, it will be a whole new experience for us Fudges.
Canoon Road, bring it on.