Add Category
This was not supposed to be Steph Catley's night.
She had been practising penalty kicks during the Matildas' pre-tournament camp over the past few weeks, but she never thought, deep down, that she would have to actually take one.
Especially not now. In front of 75,000 people. In the opening game of her home Women's World Cup. At the venue that will host the final. With the scores still locked at 0-0.
But here she was, placing the ball neatly into the grass of Stadium Australia, trying not to look up at the 120m video screen off to the right that beamed her face across the entire footballing world.
It was an odd image given the player that many expected should have been there instead.
This was, for so many reasons, meant to be Sam Kerr's night. Sam Kerr's game. Sam Kerr's moment. She was the player whose goal celebration features in her very own Nike ad. She was the player whose face has been splashed across newspapers and websites previewing the tournament. She was the player whose name has been hot-pressed onto the backs of thousands of yellow jerseys pouring into the stands to watch her live up to the occasion that had been gradually swelling around her.
Kerr has been so omnipresent in the build-up to the World Cup that she almost felt indestructible. Indeed, when she joined head coach Tony Gustavsson in a packed media conference on Wednesday afternoon, she bantered and quipped and commanded the room as she has always done.
But on Thursday night, the player that this record-breaking crowd came to see — the player who Catley herself described as the team's "spiritual leader" — sat on the sidelines, cocooned in a puffy blue winter coat, nursing a calf strain that she'd secretly sustained two days earlier.
And when the broadcast camera panned to her on the bench, shoulders caving inwards as she blinked back tears, it was one of the rare times in recent years that Kerr looked painfully and inescapably human.
A tweak during a warm-up before their final training session was all it took. Plus, perhaps, the silent weight she has been carrying for the past few weeks, months — hell, even longer than that. She is the reason people think the Matildas can win the Women's World Cup; she is the reason tens of thousands of fans have sold out every Matildas game on offer so far.
Then, suddenly, she was gone. Like a planet disappearing from a solar system, leaving dust and a gaping void where something solid used to be. The news of Kerr's withdrawal from an hour before kick-off fanned out across the ground in hushed, panicked whispers. Journalists ran to their phones and computers to send out immediate breaking news alerts. Social media was aflame.
The team only found out that morning that Kerr was unavailable, and would potentially remain so for the next group game against Nigeria. Catley described the news as "one of the most heartbreaking moments" in her own career, knowing how much this moment meant to one of her oldest friends.
How do you replace Australia's irreplaceable player?
Against the Republic of Ireland, we watched the Matildas try. We watched Mary Fowler, Caitlin Foord, Hayley Raso and Cortnee Vine take it in turns to play as Australia's centre-forward, though none were as sharp or effective as Kerr.
We watched Clare Hunt and Alanna Kennedy throw their heads at attacking corners, though none were as accurate or clinical as Kerr.
We watched Katrina Gorry and Kyra Cooney-Cross threading passes in between lines, though nobody could connect with them quite like Kerr could.
In the end, it was Steph Catley who stepped out from under the shadow that Kerr's bright light had been casting across this side, and found a way to manage the game and the bigger moment it was part of.
In any other team, at any other time, the Arsenal full-back is 'The Sam Kerr' of her team. She has been, consistently, one of the best players on any side she has represented. And yet she has rarely been acknowledged as such; that is the sacrifice of playing alongside a generational talent, as well as in a less glamorous position.
Catley has been OK with that, though. She'd settled into her role as the Matildas vice-captain, eclipsed by their most famous and visible talisman, and embraced the chance to lead in a quieter way. In her way.
She has done that all her life. Her maturity on the pitch has been reflected by her maturity off it: from joining the W-League as a 15-year-old to quickly becoming the captain of Melbourne Victory four years later, she has spoken eloquently about difficult subjects and calmly fronted ravenous media packs when results don't go her way.
She has rarely put a foot — or a word — wrong in the 11 years she has played for Australia.
And she didn't here.
Despite the uncompromising physicality of the Republic of Ireland, who crashed into their opponents in an attempt to disrupt their passing game and get inside their heads, Catley kept her cool. She rarely gave away space in behind, her tackles were timely and clean, her runs deliberate and choreographed.
Despite the loss of her captain on the eve of the tournament, and the emotional disruption it undoubtedly caused, she strapped the armband around her bicep and led the team confidently out onto the stage that has witnessed some of the country's most iconic sporting moments, from Cathy Freeman's gold medal to the Socceroos' 2005 World Cup qualification.
Despite the weight of Australia's expectation — the favoured co-hosting nation, battered and bruised by an underdog team, frustrated and fatigued and feeling the low hum of impatience rippling from the stands — she thrust herself upfield, asking questions and solving problems, trying to manage the moment for herself, for the team, and for all of us.
It wasn't perfect, of course. But they didn't expect it to be; they knew this game would be rough, ugly, painful. Just like it was two years ago when Republic of Ireland emerged 3-2 winners against Australia on the anniversary of Kerr's 100th cap.
The eerie absence of Kerr as the focal-point in this game was glaring; it needed something else, someone else to fill the void. And so Steph Catley places the ball on the penalty spot, takes three measured steps backwards, and steadies herself in the cool Sydney night.
Weirdly, she'd woken up that morning with a feeling that she might find herself here, staring at the ball in the bright grass as the entire stadium held its collective breath.
She could have lost her head then, overwhelmed by the thousands of expectant fans leaning forward from their chairs to watch her every move. She could have melted under the white-hot lights of the stadium, collapsing under the pressure that saw Kerr miss her own crucial penalty against Norway back in 2019.
But she didn't.
"When it happened, I just tried to relax," she said afterwards.
"I like taking set pieces, so I just picked a spot, kept thinking about it, took a deep breath, and hit it where I wanted to hit it.
"I knew I was on pens tonight. I'm second in line to take pens if Sam, for whatever reason, doesn't want to take it. But obviously with her out tonight, I did know I was going to take the pen.
"We've never played to this type of occasion before. The build-up was incredible: as female footballers, we've never felt or seen anything like it. So there was a lot of talk about playing football, playing our game, relaxing into it, and accepting that there was going to be sloppy moments; there were going to be nerves.
"This is the biggest moment of a lot of our careers; we expected some nervy, sloppy moments and we had them. But to get over the line, to keep a clean sheet, to fight the way we did, I think that sets us up really well."
This was not supposed to be Steph Catley's night. But she had been practising for weeks, all by herself, just in case she was needed.
On Thursday night, she finally was. And she managed the moment in the way all great leaders know how to do.