Well, here we are.

After years of coaching — countless training sessions, team talks, game-day nerves, and more whistles than I can count — the time has come for me to officially retire as head netball coach at the Bonnie Doon Football Netball Club.

I’m not quite sure how to sum up a journey that’s been equal parts rewarding, exhausting, hilarious, stressful, and deeply fulfilling.

Coaching netball has been the ride of a lifetime. I knew I was signing up to teach skills, build game plans, and try to win a few matches.

I didn’t quite realize I was also signing up to be a mentor, psychologist, nurse, weather forecaster, motivational speaker, and occasional therapist all rolled into one.

Now, I never did win coach of the year at a league level — and I’ve come to accept that.

Apparently, screaming at umpires, yelling motivational speeches at the opposition, and occasionally coaching from three metres inside the court side is frowned upon!

But I like to call it passion.

You might call it feral.

Potato, potahto.

Look, I may have scared a few umpires and possibly a few players but I always did it with love.

Intense, slightly terrifying love — but love nonetheless.

Truthfully, coaching is tough — not just physically, but mentally.

You carry so much more than a clipboard.

There are days you question every decision, lie awake replaying every missed pass or substitution, wondering if you did enough, if you pushed too hard — or not hard enough.

There’s a mental weight that never quite switches off, even when the season ends.

But despite the challenges — and maybe even because of them — I wouldn’t trade a second of it.

To the players, you are the reason I kept showing up.

Coaching you has been the greatest privilege.

Watching you grow — not just as netballers, but as confident, resilient, strong young people — that’s what it’s all about.

You’ve inspired me, frustrated me, made me laugh until I cried, and occasionally made me want to pull my hair out.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

To the assistant coaches, support staff, and volunteers, thank you for being the real MVPs behind the scenes.

You helped carry the mental load, kept things moving when I was running on caffeine and adrenaline, and always knew what to say at the exact right time.

To the families and supporters, thank you for trusting me with your daughters and your teams.

For standing on the sidelines in the cold, the rain, and the burning sun — sometimes all in the same day.

And thank you for biting your tongues most of the time when you disagreed with a call I made.

And to my own family, thank you for your endless patience, for understanding when weekends were booked solid with netball netball netball and for pretending to be interested!

For sometimes coming second to the game I poured most of my time into and being my biggest supporters.

This sport has given me so much — friendships, purpose, joy, and a front-row seat to some truly unforgettable moments.

But now, it’s time to step back. Time to let someone else bring their energy, ideas, and maybe even a few fresher knees to the role.

I’m not disappearing entirely.

I’ll still be on the sidelines, possibly yelling supportive things and trying not to interfere.

And if anyone needs an extra pair of hands or a bit of advice — you know where to find me. Probably outside sharing some insights with Leith.

I leave with a full heart, a slightly tired mind, and a deep sense of gratitude.

Thank you — truly — for every moment, every game, and every memory.