Off the field, the 2010 players were into Travisty t-shirts, Sub-Urban in Dickson and the Foreshore. Images: Supplied.
When you’re from a semi-country NSW town like Queanbeyan, rugby league is always experienced from the grassy hill, with a meat pie in one hand and wearing your cousin’s hand-me-down jersey (who’s actually playing for one of the teams on the field).
The players aren’t celebrities. They’re your brothers, his mates and your next-door neighbours. You’re lucky to still have your voice at the end of the match. It’s loud, simple and beautifully ordinary.
But in 2002, rugby league changed for me.
I found myself dating a young, up-and-coming NRL player (whom I would later marry) and watching football clubs through the glass of the players’ lounge rather than from the hill. VIP parking replaced dusty paddocks. Sass & Bide replaced Target. Oroton handbags, Napoleon Perdis make-up and post-match functions became the new normal.
WAGs get-together at a BBQ at Dane Tilse’s house (from left) Ariana Harrison, Brooke Galea, Angela Turner, Sarah Gabriel, Katie Shakespeare, Cassie White and me. Photo: Holly Winchester.
Life on the inside of professional football in the early 2000s was a wild ride. It meant watching young men achieve their dreams while also seeing how they reacted to earning more money in their early 20s than many of their parents had earned after decades of work in the APS.
These are the things I remember most.
Constantly being bailed up by Raiders fans
The ‘Raiders’ table at our wedding in 2013. The colour scheme for the wedding was – you guessed it – green. Photo: Holly Winchester.
At first we were a Canterbury Bulldogs family. But when the Raiders signed my partner, and we returned home to Queanbeyan/Canberra in 2005, the hometown hero effect certainly came into play, just not quite in the way I’d imagined.
The biggest fans of football are, after all, middle-aged men.
Balding blokes in jeans and sneakers would enthusiastically approach our young family and suddenly lunch, shopping or date night was over. You’d find yourself standing there for 45 minutes listening to passionate opinions about whether Dane Tilse or Josh Miller should be benched that week. The Queanbeyan RSL Bowling Club was a minefield. Anzac Day? Forget about it.
Shopping at Parliament and tech ‘gadgets’
Raiders lock Shaun Fensom dancing to Calvin Harris at Foreshore on the lawns of Old Parliament House, November 2010. Photo: Holly Winchester.
The Raiders players, my partner included, loved hitting the shops, and nowhere was more popular than Parliament: the uber-stylish store tucked away at the back of the Canberra Centre overlooking Garema Place, where Dizzee Rascal blasted through the speakers, and everything smelled of Davidoff Cool Water.
Travisty t-shirts featuring scantily clad women and heavily whiskered jeans were wardrobe staples for the boys. For me, it was probably a Minkpink jumper, pleather leggings and a Saturday night at North Bar, a Sunday session at Sub-Urban, or that memorable occasion I attended Josh Dugan’s 21st birthday at the upstairs Uni Pub … while pregnant.
Raiders prop Dane Tilse dancing to Tiësto at Foreshore, November 2010. Photo: Holly Winchester.
One of the biggest cultural moments I remember was when the boys were among the first people in Canberra to get their hands on an alien-looking gadget called an iPhone.
I remember staring at the fragile glass touchscreen in horror.
“I’m never getting one of those,” I declared confidently, while clutching my hot pink Motorola Razr flip phone. I eventually caved, but the Razr still lives safely tucked away in my sock drawer. The stories it could tell.
The extra-curricular stuff
Sub-Urban Dickson, the spot of many Sunday Sessions and post-match celebrations. Photo: australianbartender.com.au.
The Raiderettes were still dancing at half-time back then, and the players’ contracts famously included a clause discouraging them from fraternising with the cheerleaders.
Whether anyone ever tested that clause is, for legal reasons, a conversation we’ll leave firmly in the early ‘noughties’.
Then there was Mad Monday. Except it rarely stayed on Monday. It had a habit of becoming Mad Tuesday, or even Wednesday, for those who were particularly unafraid of going home two days late. Thankfully, there’s very little evidence of those days. What happened at the Kaleen Tavern generally stayed at the Kaleen Tavern.
Wedding photos at Seiffert Oval in Queanbeyan where I actually laid on the grass in my $3000 dress from Brides of Manuka for the ‘perfect try’ pic. Talk about dedication to the WAG role. Photo: Hilary Wardhaugh.
And then there was the infamous Oreo Run … If you know, you know. If you don’t, use your imagination and you’re probably halfway there. Let’s just say I’ve never looked at an Oreo quite the same way since.
There were also the Foreshore festivals with LMFAO and Salt-n-Pepa before the days of Spilt Milk, countless coffees at Café Momo and, of course, the obligatory wedding photos at Seiffert Oval.
Like any football family, there were injuries, muddy boots hosed off in the backyard, missed birthdays and seasons where time on the bench reminded everyone how quickly fortunes can change.
My days of being a glamorous footballer’s wife are long gone, in more ways than one. My husband and I split, and I was no longer an NRL WAG.
But every now and then, I still catch the smell of Deep Heat, hear the crackle of the Bruce Stadium ground announcer over the loudspeakers or bite into a hot meat pie, and for a moment I’m 21 again.
I spent years on the players’ side of the tunnel. These days, I’m back where I belong – in my jersey, on the grassy hill with the fans.
Original Article published by Holly Winchester on Region Canberra.
