Tessa Lu was tired of feeling that daily life was an ordeal. 'It was time to play,' she said, preparing for floorball training.
From Sidelines to Center Court
Lu had spent a season watching her daughter's floorball matches, where 10-year-old girls brandished sticks to smack the ball past goalies. Floorball, similar to hockey, is played on an indoor court enclosed by knee-high boards, making the ball ricochet like a pinball machine. The games were fast-paced, with players dashing off court and substitutes replacing them.
After games, Lu handed out high-fives and orange slices, suppressing her envy. The girls looked like they were having fun, something she had forgotten how to do.
The Struggle of a Working Mother
As a working mother with three young children, Lu had not slept through the night in over a decade. Her days were filled with packing lunchboxes, hanging laundry, and long bedtime routines that drove her to scream into pillows. She rushed to work with Vegemite fingerprints on her trousers and took work calls at the aquatic centre while her toddler cried during swimming lessons. When deadlines loomed, she often got calls to collect a sick child. Lu was tired of the ordeal and decided it was time to play.
Assembling a Team
Lu recruited mothers at the school car park, cajoled colleagues at office morning teas, and even followed a friend off a bus after she mentioned playing hockey as a child. After weeks, she assembled a women's floorball team of seven players.
The team showed up for their debut match at a local primary school in Perth on a balmy March evening, with no sticks and several children in pyjamas. As Lu walked towards the gymnasium, she heard women cheering and sticks clacking. She was trembling with nervousness.
A Humble Start
Once the game began, it was clear they had no ball-handling skills or strategy. They were like galumphing labradors, shouldering each other, stealing the ball from teammates, and turning helpless circles. Lu swung hard and missed the ball entirely more than once. The referee's whistle shrieked at their many infractions: a stick lifted too high, a goalie on two knees, a stick thrust between legs. Unaccustomed to sprinting, Lu panted and felt sluggish. When she tried to take a break, her substitute waved her back on, clutching a suspected quadricep sprain.
At half-time, they were too stunned to brainstorm tactics. One teammate ran to the toilet, shouting, 'I've had three kids; my pelvic floor can't handle this!'
The second half began with the opposing goalie stifling a yawn, while their own goalie, in enthusiasm, leapt over the ball and kicked it into their own net.
Rediscovering the Body
Lu's feet ached as her orthotics were pushed to their limits. Her wrist throbbed. Then something remarkable happened: she remembered she had a body. Chasing the ball, her mind had no space for anxious thoughts about climate change, interest rates, or microplastics. She momentarily released her mental load and rejoiced in the burn in her legs, the ache in her arms, and the furious thudding of her heart.
They lost 16 to one, but the other team applauded when they scored their only goal. In 35 minutes, Lu laughed at herself, fell over, cursed, and cheered. She was hooked.
Finding Joy in Pointlessness
Lu's team plays once a week and remains at the bottom of the ladder. They rarely train together, but some evenings, Lu steals outside to practise hitting the ball. Through the window, she sees her children illuminated in the kitchen, their arguments muffled by double-glazed glass. She hears the scrape of her stick on the paving and the thunk of the ball bouncing off the deck.
Lu used to think team sports were pointless, but after years of accounting for her time in six-minute units and wringing every moment for productivity, she realised that the pointlessness of floorball is what brings her joy. Looking at a photo from their first game, she sees flushed, blotchy faces and sweaty hair. They are radiant. They look like women who have had some fun.
