When I first met Mary, I’ll admit—she wasn’t what I had imagined. I had my head completely wrapped up in footy, and I wasn’t looking for anything else. Mary, though, was different. She had this spark about her. She was confident, energetic, and had no problem speaking her mind. At the time, I wasn’t sure how to take…

When I first met Mary, I’ll admit—she wasn’t what I had imagined. I had my head completely wrapped up in footy, and I wasn’t looking for anything else. Mary, though, was different. She had this spark about her. She was confident, energetic, and had no problem speaking her mind. At the time, I wasn’t sure how to take that. I was so used to people going along with whatever I said, but Mary didn’t let me get away with anything. She challenged me, questioned me, and even made fun of me in that cheeky way only she could. It threw me off at first, but I quickly realised that was exactly what I needed.

Back then, I was living and breathing the game. Every decision I made revolved around training, matches, and recovery. I didn’t have time for distractions, or so I told myself. But the truth was, I was scared of letting anyone get too close. Mary somehow slipped past all those walls without even trying. She wasn’t impressed by the fame or the attention that came with footy. She saw straight through it. With her, I wasn’t “the player” anymore. I was just me.

As time went on, we built something real—something that wasn’t about the spotlight or what people saw from the outside. She was there through the wins and the losses, through the long nights and the endless travel. But like any couple, we had our share of differences. I’ve always wanted to settle down one day, have a family, and pass on the things I’ve learned. For me, the idea of having a child has always felt like the next step, something that would give life a deeper meaning beyond the sport.

Mary, on the other hand, has been honest from the start. She’s focused on her own career, her independence, and the life she’s still building. She’s said more than once that she’s not ready for kids yet—and she doesn’t want to bring one into the world just because it feels like the “right time” or because people expect it. She wants to be sure she’s ready in every way—emotionally, mentally, and personally. I respect that, even if it’s hard to hear sometimes.

It’s not about love or commitment; we have both in plenty. It’s about timing and what each of us needs right now. I can’t deny that I dream about holding a little one in my arms, seeing Mary as a mum, and building that next chapter together. But I also know that trying to rush her—or life—wouldn’t be fair. She’s taught me patience, and more than that, she’s taught me understanding.

Sometimes, when I’m sitting on the couch after a long day of training, I catch her reading or laughing at something on her phone, and I think to myself, “This is what matters.” The rest will come when it’s meant to. Until then, we’re learning, growing, and figuring it out together—just like any other couple trying to balance love, ambition, and everything in between.