It was a tense and emotional 90 minutes at our place last night as my two sons and I watched the Matildas play the Lionesses in the semi-final of the FIFA Women's World Cup. My boys ages 12 and six spent the match either cheering at the great play, throwing cushions at the TV (and each other) or literally hiding behind the sofa.
After a day of wearing green and gold colours to school and shouting 'Aussie, Aussie Aussie' at anyone who would listen, my youngest went to bed with a tear-streaked face.
His devastation at the loss was a full-body experience that he still felt at breakfast this morning. My eldest wore his sadness with the stoicism I expect of his almost 13-year-old self, but there was no mistaking his deep disappointment.
Watch: The trailer for the Matildas documentary. Post continues below.
I hate seeing my boys upset and yet, strangely my heart is full.
Full, because I could see their passion for the game and the women who play it.
Full, because it is normal for my boys to see stadiums overflowing with fans cheering these incredible women on.
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