* image from www.tara.qld.gov.au/
It is 21 years since I played Netball.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
We were a team that hardly ever won. Maybe even NEVER?
Most of us hadn’t been playing netball very long. Maybe a year or two.
Then along came Mrs Thompson.
She was the kind of lady that scared little kids. Well, probably big kids too. I was 11 so I guess I probably considered myself to be a “big kid”.
She was TOUGH. She worked us hard. She took no nonsense.
If you didn’t make it to training on time - you’d better have a VERY good reason.
If you didn’t make it to training at all - look out!!!
If she didn’t think you were putting your full effort in - you’d know about it.
Every. single. one. of us…….LOVED her!!!
She taught us what it meant to be a team.
She taught us that every. single. person has value.
I didn’t come across many adults like her throughout my childhood. When I was around her I felt like I MATTERED. Not by anything she SAID but by her very attitude and actions.
I grew up feeling like a nobody. I didn’t feel like I was GOOD at anything.
Netball was different.
I mattered.
I belonged.
I contributed.
People said I had a chance to be an “A grader”.
No-one had ever made me feel like that before.
Like I could reach for the stars. And maybe, just maybe, hold one in my hand.
I was used to playing around in the dirt.
The dirty. The dusty. The invisible. The forgotten.
In the space of a few weeks we went from a team that had NEVER won a game - to almost unbeatable.
I wasn’t the best player on the team.
But I never ONCE felt like that mattered.
Because EVERYONE mattered.
Mrs Thompson made sure of that.
We only lost 1 game that season. Our second game of the season.
But it wasn’t winning or losing that mattered. It was the effort we put in. If we lost, we trained hard. If we won, we trained hard.
I remember Mrs Thompson talking about how much training we would have to do when we reached A grade. We were being groomed for the future.
A bunch of “losers” being transformed by the love and care of one lady.
At the end of the season, as we celebrated our Grand Final win, Mrs Thompson talked about us being a team. A team that sticks together. She was adamant that every single one of us move into a C-grade team together.
I cried.
I knew we were moving.
Moving a long way away.
To another state.
A city.
A foreign place.
I was losing my team.
I was losing my sense of place in the world.
I cried on that day.
I cried on and off for a time as I settled into a totally foreign land.
Then one day I packed away my tears and tucked them deep inside of me.
I never got to play netball again.
I’m not sure why.
I went back to that child in the dust. Lonely. Unlovable. Invisible. Useless.
Last Saturday the tears came again.
I wandered around the sporting grounds feeling like I didn’t belong.
All the emotion of those childhood days, flooding back to the surface.
Grief over what might have been. Over what I wanted to be.
A part of a team. A person that mattered.
It came out of nowhere. But the tears would be stemmed no more.
I sat in the car. Alone. Alone in a place FILLED with people. Alone and in pain.
And the tears came.
All I wanted was to work on my fitness.
To take the time I was at training and make use of it.
To enjoy some company and fellowship while I trained with the other netballers.
I didn’t know all of this lay hidden. Carefully tucked away in my heart. In a dark corner where no-one would ever find it.
I didn’t know that getting back on the court would bring with it a fresh wave of grief over what I lost. The sights. The sounds. The smells. The feeling of the ball hitting my hand. The sound of pounding feet on the hard surface.
The child within me cried out.
Longing to be wanted.
To be a part of a team.
To matter.