Opinion
Sweaty, unaffected joy: Matildas are bigger than sport and a reminder of what sport is about
Andrew Webster
Chief Sports WriterComparison, said former US president Theodore Roosevelt, is the thief of joy.
Whatever, Teddy. If you’re an Australian holding on for dear life to the out-of-control Matildas bandwagon headed directly for Stadium Australia on Wednesday night for the World Cup semi-final against England, we’re making comparisons to everything and everyone because the comparisons are dripping with sweaty, unaffected joy.
Never-seen-before crowd figures, enormous TV ratings, unprecedented streaming numbers and heaving live sites exploding with relief and happiness only tell part of the story of how our country has fallen head over heels for our women’s football side.
Video on social media, so often a sewer of pessimism and pretend happiness, during the quarter-final against France gives a portent into the visceral support: the Brisbane Lions after their win against Adelaide Crows on Saturday night erupting with cheers in the dressing-room when Cortnee Vine threaded the winning penalty; thousands of fans at Allianz Stadium glued to their phones and not the Roosters-Dolphins match being played in the middle of the field; country music megastar Luke Combs showing the penalty shootout on the big screens at the Brisbane Entertainment Centre before his concert.
A 5pm kick-off on a Saturday is generally a dead-ish TV timeslot for live sport because people are out and about in the world, getting on with their wretched lives.
On SEN Radio last week, morning host Matt White — who, from his time at Seven and Ten, knows a thing or two about ratings — said the figures from the quarter-final against France would truly explain how popular the Matildas have become.
There have been so many changes to the way ratings are gathered and then analysed, it’s almost impossible to compare, but the match is reportedly the most watched event in Australia in almost two decades.
What ratings can we expect for the semi against England on a Wednesday evening if the Matildas are breaking records in the Saturday twilight?
Perhaps the greatest measure will be the crowd figures at stadiums merely showing the match after NSW Premier Chris Minns decided to throw the gates open at Allianz Stadium in the east and CommBank Stadium in the west.
If those shiny new facilities are heaving with people on a school night just to watch a large TV screen while standing shoulder to shoulder with fellow Tillies fanatics old and new, then it will unofficially be official: Australian sport has changed forever, if it hasn’t already.
This is bigger than sport and we can all feel it. I overheard a young boy on Sunday innocently tell his father “I want to be a Matilda” when I grow up. I would, too: looks like a lot of fun.
What’s prompting this dramatic, organic shift in national consciousness?
There are many reasons but, for this jaded sports hack, the Matildas serve as a timely reminder of what sport is about.
Both our national team and this World Cup generally rise above the whiny conversations that dominate men’s codes. It rises above the daily soap opera about referees, player movements and cranky post-match comments from coaches looking to divert attention from themselves. The agendas. The anger. The hate.
Write a column about the Ashes and expect your inbox to be flooded with hate and bile and homophobic slurs. Write a column about the Matildas and you receive missives about the under-15s match between Hills Spirit and Glenhaven FC in which the Hills Spirit goalie saved three penalty shots and then kicked the winning goal.
On the field, the Matildas are tough, which is precisely how we like our national teams.
As French players staged for penalties, rolling around on the ground seeking an advantage, the Australians rolled up the sleeves and went hard into every contest without fear of being injured.
In the shootout, they “hit the freeze”, the term basketballers use when three-pointers are drained with icy aplomb.
For some football purists, deciding matches via penalties is sacrilegious. Nevertheless, they require a special blend of confidence, ability and instinct from both the penalty taker and goalkeeper.
Mackenzie Arnold played both roles against France. Her ability to shrug off her own missed penalty, which thudded into the right post, and then eventually come up with the save that set up Vine’s winning goal will linger in the memory as much as John Aloisi’s penalty against Uruguay in 2005.
Off the field, what’s not to like?
These Matildas players talk to the media with refreshing and unaffected enthusiasm, devoid of suspicion and minus the banal utterances you usually hear on a weekly basis in other codes.
Then there’s coach Tony Gustavsson, a quirky Swede who draws comparison to Ted Lasso but reminds me of a character from a Wes Anderson movie with his weird and wonderful media performances.
After the loss to Nigeria, most pundits wanted him sacked. And now? If he can inspire the Matildas to the final, he’ll be spoken about in the same reverential tones as Guus Hiddink, the coach who not only broke the Socceroos’ World Cup drought but led them to the second round in 2006.
Australia must get past England first and they’ll be outsiders again, just as they were against France. The Lionesses were positively brutal in their quarter-final win against Colombia, secured with a goal in the second half before 75,784 fans at Stadium Australia. “We know if we play at our best, we are unstoppable,” forward Lauren Hemp told the BBC about the looming match against Australia.
Just over a year ago, England felt the same revolutionary love that Australia is feeling now as they beat Germany in the UEFA Euro 2022 final.
I watched the match at a packed pub in Birmingham - all in the name of research, of course - during the Commonwealth Games. The next day, the players were feted on stage at Trafalgar Square before thousands of fans. It was a beautiful thing.
The pessimists reckon this will all dissolve when the World Cup finishes and they might be right. The sleeping giant of Australian football has leapt in and out of bed so many times it’s hard to keep up.
But if the Matildas can inspire a few kids, male or female, to stop playing FIFA on their PlayStation and go outside and kick a real ball, it can only be a good thing, can’t it?
Comparison might be the thief of joy but if they can ride this wave of national pride for a few more days, with all of us on their backs, all the way to the final on Sunday, they might just pinch the World Cup.