Matildas Squad 2023 World Cup Finals
Mackenzie Arnold
Tegan Micah
Lydia Williams
Courtney Vine
Clare Hunt
Charlotte Grant
Alanna Kennedy
Steph Catley
Ellie Carpenter
Clare Polkinghorne
Alex Chidiac
Clare Wheeler
Katrina Gorry
Emily Van Egmond
Tameka Yallop
Tippah Jones
Kyra Cooney-Cross
Courtnee Vine
Mary Fowler
Hayley Raso
Sam Kerr
Caitlin Foord
Kyah Simon
The team was soon officially announced a wave of relief brushed over me. I knew it was unlikely I would miss out (if not, impossible) but there is still a feeling of uncertainty.
"Girl, there was no way you would've been left off," Steph said, as we walked onto the plane together.
"You never know," I replied.
"Since the Asian Cup, in which our midfield has never needed you more, I think Tony is scared not to have you on the pitch," Steph said, assuringly.
"Yeah, I mean, without you, there is no midfield," Caitlin laughed. I tried taking that all as a compliment but it did mean something else: pressure and lots of it.
Leaving for Australia was exciting, except for one thing: leaving Leah. We had just got to a good place and I would be jetting off halfway across the world without her. She would be here. I would be there. Our hearts: connected. But our bodies: two oceans away. It was not what I had hoped.
But it was life.
And we must move with it; not against it.
We flew into Sydney, and when I landed, I had remembered why I avoided this city. Instead of focusing on the footballing tournament that was near weeks away, I was bombarded with people asking me solely about my father.
Before everything went down, I went seemingly undercover in this city. Not many people knew the name Tippah Jones unless they were football fans, and followed the Matildas closely.
But now, now I am the footballer whose father was murdered by her brother and mother.
I am not just a footballer.
I am a footballer with a backstory that's more important than the prior.
It's not what I wanted. But it was life, and I guess, we must move with it; not against it.
"Tippah! Tippah!" a reporter screamed at me, as I came down the escalator at Sydney airport.
"Just ignore them," Caitlin said, grabbing my arm and bringing me outside to the cab that was waiting for us.
"Tippah! What do you think about the trial that is about to start?" one reporter asked.
"Tippah! Are you going to have to testify in court? Is that taking away from your ability to perform at this world cup?" another asked.
"No comment," Steph answered for me, as we got straight into the car that would take us to the hotel.
As soon as the door closed, I felt like screaming.
"You alright?" cait asked.
"I didn't realize it was- I didn't know they would be here."
"Neither of us did," Caitlin replied.
"I think," Steph started to say, "it's become very mainstream here. The trial, that is."
I had avoided any media attention around the looming court appearances. I was trying my best to get out of it but I knew it wouldn't last long. I would be called upon, the only question was when.
We got to the hotel soon after, and we began our preparation for the World Cup. it was looming. The tournament was set to start in two weeks and I could already feel the pressure build in camp.
It was good pressure though. Pressure we needed. Pressure we wanted.
Without it, what was the point?
I was called in for a presser, a few days prior to our friendly match against France. Supposedly, it was to be about football and only football, but I was apprehensive. But I knew being scared and shying away was not the way to go about it.
"You're okay?" Tony asked before we set out into the room filled with media.
"I'll be fine," I responded.
"Just walk out if you need to. No one is going to say anything." He smiled at me, putting a hand on my shoulder before we walked out together.
I was asked a few questions, ranging from our preparation for the France game to winning the Champions League, to feeling confident controlling our midfield.
All of which I answered with poise and grace (or at least I think I did.)
Then the dreaded question came, from the dreaded reporter.
"Hi Tippah," he said.
"Hi Shane," I replied, knowing what was to come.
"There has been much discussion about your playing ability, however, the real looming concern is over the upcoming trial of your brother and mother. How does that affect your preparation?" I looked at the reporter, my eyes locking with his. The audacity of some of these reporters had always frazzled me, but I knew I had to stay calm.
"Next question," the media manager said.
"No, no, it's alright," I replied. "I have not spoken to my mother or brother in many months. I have nothing to do with the trial. And I am here to play football, nothing else."
"But, he was your father," Shane continued. "Don't you have any feelings towards the charges your family members are facing?"
"Family's an interesting word," I continued to say. "For me, family is when you share common values, and emotional ties, and responsibilities. That is what I call family. My family are the girls I play with, the Matildas and Arsenal. My family are my two sisters, who support me through anything. My family is not solely those you are blood-related. That's only half of me. They are only half of me. It's just anatomy. Nothing more. Family does not equate to blood. It's more than that. I hope that answers your question." I stared at him. I didn't flinch. I didn't move.
"Thank you, Tippah," the reporter said, before sitting down.
"We're done here. Thank you all for your time," Tony then said, waiting for me to stand and walk out.
"Fuck," I said, once we were through the door. "I shouldn't have done that." Tony looked at me, before wrapping an arm around my shoulder, allowing me to lean into him.
"It's okay. It'll blow over."
"It won't. I know it won't."
And I was right.
TIPPAH JONES LASHES OUT AT REPORTER AT MATILDAS PRESSER BEFORE FRANCE FRIENDLY
Exclusive from Sharne Arnold
I didn't read it. I refused.
But I got the gist.
"Turn it off," I said to Sam, as she had the News on in the background. I had gone into Sam's room, with EVE, that evening, wanting to laugh my ass off rather than dwell in my miseries.
"Girl, don't you want to know about the world's issues?" Sam laughed.
"Not when they are my issues they are displaying all over ABC."
"Tony told me what was said in the interview," Sam said to me, as we lay on her bed, drinking some juice.
"I've had a run-in with that reporter before," I replied.
"Even so, do they not understand boundaries?" Sam questioned.
"Apparently not," I answered.
"Are you going to have to, you know, testify?" EVE then asked.
"I have no idea. I'm just staying out of it."
"That's probably smart. We have a world cup to worry about!" Sam said, trying to bring our attention back to the excitement on hand rather than the fear.
EVE soon headed to her room, and I started heading out too, but before I could, Sam stopped me.
"You know, it's okay to leave your family behind. It's okay to look forward and not back. Don't be afraid of that."
"I won't," I answered. "Thank you, Sammy."
The next morning I woke up to many messages from Leah.
Leah: hope ur ok
Leah: just saw the article that guy is a dipshit
Leah: wait shit i forgot about time difference
Leah: ur probs asleep
Leah: oops
Leah: call me when u wake up
I laughed after reading all the messages before replying.
Tipp: I'm awake.
I soon had a buzz.
"Hi," I said, groggily.
"Hey," she replied.
"I'm guessing you saw the article?" I said, trying to get straight to the point.
"Yeah..."
"That reporter is so messed up. I've met him before and- well, he's a dick."
"From what I heard, sounds like it."
"He just tries to push and push and push. I wanted to go up to him and slap him so hard across the face." Leah chuckled as I spoke and I realised just how silly I sounded.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. Your feelings are valid!" Leah said, jokingly.
"Shut up," I laughed.
"Never," she joked.
"What are your plans today in the boring life of injured knee Leah Williamson?" I asked.
"Well, I have six photoshoots, two lunches, a video promo with Nike and a nice dinner with Alex all planned."
"Seriously?"
"No. 2 photoshoots, one lunch, one video and then dinner with Alex."
"That sounds more reasonable," I replied, smiling at her.
We Facetimed for a little while longer until I had to head down to dinner. We were flying down to Melbourne that day to get ready for our pre-tournament friendly against France.
I was just excited to be leaving Sydney.
We went on our morning walk as a team, and as we walked past one of the news agencies, I saw the Sydney Morning Herald in the front window. The headline jump scared me only slightly.
THE TRIAL OF THE CENTURY BEGINS TODAY
Priscilla and Finnigan Jones are set to begin their trials for the murder of husband and father, Michael Jones. Daughter and sister, Tippah Jones, Matildas midfielder, is also set to begin her World Cup campaign in under a week...
I wanted to throw the stand to the ground. I wanted to tear up every single paper. But before I could walk over, Ellie grabbed my arm, pulling me away.
"You're okay," she said, solemnly. "Don't read that shit."
"I know. It's just hard."
"I know."
"What do you think?" I asked her.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, for a while, you were just as close to them as I was. You were family. They were your family." She looked at me, a quietness in her eyes deafening my heart.
"They were not ever really my family. You were." Something about Ellie would always bring that comfort.
Sure, Mum and Finn, and Dad were the people with whom I shared my blood.
But they weren't family.
I knew that now. I could understand that now. Truly.
note:
- u guys r lucky ducks! 3 chapters, 3 days!!
- I should note that if u pick up on any pop culture references in any of these chapters, they are ALWAYS INTENTIONAL! like always. eveyrhting I do is intentional yk
- my brain works in weird ways and I genuinely hide easter eggs for myself... and if people pick up on them, I'm genuinely soo impressed.
- I never do things for the sake of doing them yk. there is always a purpose :)