Melbourne Victory captain Kayla Morrison has been charting her recovery from an ACL operation for KEEPUP, and in this very personal column reflects on the conflicting emotions as her teammates won their second consecutive Liberty A-League Grand Final.
The final whistle blows at the end of a grand final. The tears just flow. Tears of happiness, sadness, pride, jealousy, relief. Is it right to feel all this? With tears and feelings erupting out of me like I’m a volcano? Especially when I’m also calmed down by the love from my Melbourne Victory teammates?
Watching a grand final from the sidelines after a season of injury rehab is, it turns out, a uniquely emotioal experience. With a few football seasons around the world coming to end, like America’s NWSL, Sweden’s Damallsvenskan, and Australia’s own NPL, it’s given me some time to reflect on my own feelings during and after this year’s A-League Women’s Grand Final, when my fabulous teammates went back to back in championship wins.
Heading into the finals series the way we had done the year previously felt like a familiar storyline. We were the team who came into stride towards the end of the season and squeaked our way into finals. But finals football is its own competition completely. And we knew what it would take to lift that Grand Final trophy.
Except that this year, thanks to my ACL rupture, I would be watching from the sidelines. I would be traveling up the day of the game, not with the squad. I would be missing out on all things pregame. The one thing I could guarantee was that I would be trying to hype those girls up the best that I could.
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I was sitting in the stands, waiting for the game to begin. I was watching the fans roll in. I could feel the tension and excitement in the atmosphere. This is where the confusing feelings began. It’s such a taboo topic to talk about “ugly feelings” like sadness and jealousy. Especially when you think you shouldn’t be having these feelings.
I’m the captain of a team heading into the Grand Final, and I am so jealous of every girl walking out of that tunnel. I’m jealous that they get to play in the most important match of the year. I’m jealous they get to share the pitch with each other and grind and bleed and push their bodies to the limit, to show the world what they can do.
I’m jealous that they will have the memories of celebrating the game-winning goals with each other. I’m jealous that when the final whistle blows, they will shoot a glance of relief and pure ecstasy to each other, because they did it. Most of all, I’m jealous that they did it without me, while all I could do was watch that from the stands.
And then, miraculously, that jealousy lifts like a fog at the sight of the people you love most wearing the biggest smiles on their faces. When that final whistle blew and I looked out onto that field and saw my best friends piling on each other, screaming, laughing, and crying, all those feelings of jealousy were swept from my body by pure happiness. Those feelings of jealousy vanished because even though I didn’t play the same role I did the year prior, I still felt connected to that amazing group of girls who had accomplished something great.
There may not have been the same photo moment as the year before, where I was jumping on top of Kyra Cooney-Cross after scoring the winning goal. This year, I was hugging her off to the side, so proud of her and every one of those people who made that win possible.
Eventually the celebrations started to subside; somehow, I was emotionally drained. I thought I had experienced every emotion possible. I was standing there with pride watching the girls receive their medals, watching Casey Dumont take home Player of the Match, watching both teams thank the fans and give their speeches. And then Lia Privitelli got towards the end of her speech and called me up onto the stage.
I was hesitant to go. I didn’t want to take any of the shine away from the girls who just busted their asses every day to win this game. But with the girls telling me to go, I walked up onto the stage and into the arms of my teammate and forever friend, putting her Grand Final medal around my neck. Cue more tears.
In one of the toughest seasons and years of my life, this was a moment that made me realise how lucky I was to be where I am, surrounded by people and a club who supported me. Lia was my first friend in Australia, and a teammate of mine for the past four years. When I got injured and she stepped into the captain role, she never made me feel sidelined. She was selfless in the way she led the girls and selfless in the way she helped me.
So, calling me up onto that stage was not an uncharacteristic trait. That was just Lia. Lifting that trophy, hand in hand with one of my best friends, surrounded by my teammates, playing for Melbourne Victory, that was one of the happiest, proudest, most euphoric moments of my life.
So yes, the Grand Final may have looked a little different for me in my second season. It taught me a lot about myself and it made me realise that there is a silver lining to be found if you don’t let the ugly feelings cloud you. But let me assure you, that also became the biggest motivation to run faster, lift heavier, and train harder every day. To make sure I would be playing in that Grand Final this season, going for the 3-peat, and lifting that trophy.
