It might come as something of a surprise to you that when I was 17 my only aspiration in life was to become a WAG.
Not that WAG, the term that colloquially applies to the wives and girlfriends of sportsmen, was even a term back in 1984. But I was madly in love with a certain lad who we all thought would end up playing cricket for Australia. I could imagine myself sitting alongside the partners of Kim Hughes or Allan Border, discussing the day's play perhaps, or how we were all going to cope with the upcoming tour of the West Indies.
Not that we knew much about the partners of the players, back in the day. Sure, there was no social media, no real opportunity for a WAG to post updates of her trip to the day spa on Instagram. But dare I suggest back in the day the partners knew their place in the grand scheme of things, and it was nowhere near the headlines.
I've been fascinated by recent developments in our major sporting competitions, as the AFL and the NRL deal with the latest Covid-related restrictions.
During the week there was a leaked memo from the AFL, revealing rules wives and girlfriends had to abide by in the "transitional hub" in Queensland last season.
They weren't allowed to leave said hub, except for emergency or medical treatment; they weren't allowed to have visits from family or friends outside the hub; they weren't allowed nannies or caregivers inside the hub; nor were they allowed to purchase alcohol from outside retailers, or breach the safe and responsible consumption of alcohol policy; and they couldn't post anything on social media that reflected negatively on the AFL, any AFL club, the hub environment or any state government.
They could use hub recreation facilities and green spaces and the gym. Lucky girls could also cook their own meals.
The WAGs weren't happy. Apparently there were some "trying circumstances" for many families in the hub. Imagine having to cope without your nanny and your nail technician. I don't know how they coped.
But apparently it's equally as hard - which is probably the completely wrong word considering where I'm going next - for the players.
Rugby league's Paul Gallen, former player, now commentator, wrote recently about the struggle players face in the bubble, especially the young, single guys, who are "lacking companionship".
We've already seen Queenslander and South Sydney forwarded Jai Arrow get thrown out of State of Origin camp because he snuck in an "unregistered guest". A "dancer", apparently.
He swears he had no physical contact with her, but either way his dance moves have had consequences. He's been unfollowed by his girlfriend, former Miss World Australia, Taylah Cannon. Cha, cha, cha.
I'm unsure what has happened to Gallen since he quit rugby league. He's taken up professional boxing, perhaps too many knocks to the head.
"I'm trying to say this as respectfully as I can," Gallen wrote on the Wide World of Sport website.
"It's going to be a big ask for certain players - especially the young, single guys - to not breach the bubble if there's no companionship at all on the inside. I'm not trying to be rude or crude about it. It's a fact of life.
"If you're single and used to living a certain way, it's going to be tough for guys to break their habits. They're just going to have to remember what's at stake.
"If they want to keep their contracts, want to keep earning the money that they are ... they're going to have to weigh up what's more important and please themselves, so to speak!"
Life for all of us has been different for the past two years. Every day we await news of how our lives might change before dinner time. We fear snap lockdowns, wear mandatory masks, deal with the inability to see our loved ones, even the impossibility of being able to return to Australia if we've been caught overseas.
High-paid athletes and their WAGs are doing themselves no favours complaining about how hard their lives are. You don't get into a relationship with an athlete without thinking about the consequences. Yet I'm sure many of them do.
There's a lot more to it than low-cut dresses on the Brownlow red carpet or the free convertibles and holidays thrust upon you by generous club sponsors.
Decades on, I don't think I would have had the right personality - or the legs, if I'm honest - to be a WAG. My athlete partner would have had to deal with game analysis, arguments about his on-field decision-making, comparisons with teammates. Even then I preferred to spend more time on the sideline than in the day spa.
Lucky, I guess then, that my long lost love ended up reaching the dizzy heights of Wagga third grade cricket.
Our journalists work hard to provide local, up-to-date news to the community. This is how you can continue to access our trusted content: