Dispatches from the Wellington Indoor Sports Centre, where The Spinoff and other media outlets faced off with the Parlyferns netball team last week.
Workplace social sports: they’re either a reminder of that unrealised childhood dream of becoming a pro-athlete or that childhood nightmare of crying before every PE class. In a largely sedentary world, having your colleague ask you to join them for an hour of running around with a ball seems like the perfect excuse to finally stretch those legs and perhaps experience camaraderie or something of the like. Ideally, the people you end up playing against are just some other unfit chumps confined to an office, not politicians who have spent their lives trying to win control of the country.
Despite not playing netball since I was 11 and getting kicked off the worst team in my year group for not showing up to practice, I said yes to joining my workplace’s team under the guise of maybe having … fun? Not The Spinoff workplace, but my second workplace inside the press gallery in parliament, which is its own thing because if I do something naughty, Gerry Brownlee as speaker of the House can kick me out of here, whether Madeleine Chapman likes it or not.
Anyway, the Parliamentary Sports Trust hosts regular games of cricket during the summer, and a few rugby, netball and football matches in the winter, with MPs from all corners of the House displaying their collegiality by throwing balls around and raising money for charity. The parliamentary netball team – the Parlyferns – were once captained by former Silver Fern and Labour MP Louisa Wall, and now boast the likes of associate health minister Casey Costello, Labour MP Ginny Andersen, National backbenchers Catherine Wedd and Suze Redmayne and for some reason, former 1News political editor Jessica Mutch-McKay.
A truly star-studded team needs equally star-studded opponents. So a few times a year, the Parlyferns face off against the “media team” (we called ourselves the Gallery Gals this year), consisting of everyone who was bold enough to reply “yes” to an email. These include the likes of award-winning 1News political editor Maiki Sherman, and Lyric from The Spinoff.
They were warned.
Firstly, the only training I did for this was going to a yoga class over the weekend and running from the Indoor Sport Centre on the waterfront to the Indoor Sports Centre by Sky Stadium because turns out one is a soccer field and the other is the actual netball court. Which meant I made it to the game with a few minutes to spare, giving me enough time to chuck on a GS bib, file down my nails and ask one of my teammates to run me through the rules again, please I beg you.
Suffice to say, the first round starts the match off rough – while Wedd and Redmayne can easily fly down the court, we’re a lot less graceful, and also I don’t know how to shoot, so the Parlyferns get away with 10 goals right off the bat while I’ve scored zero. Never mind, because I swap places with a sub after that quarter, and made a mental note to not let anyone give me a shooting position again.
I’m already heaving and sweating, and wondering why I wasted the most formative years of my life addicted to nicotine rather than something kind-of useful for my health, like going outside and throwing a ball. And there’s Costello, running around like it’s nothing, and I wonder if she can feel my pain – when she falls into Stuff’s Bridie Witton and the two land in a pile, I know I am vindicated.
So, third quarter: I take GD over from Labour’s communications director Gia Garrick, who is about a third of the height of the hoop and keeps getting egged on by Lloyd Burr to grow a few inches. From upon my ivory tower, standing at 5’4, I’m sure I must have something going for me in this position – but I feel like I have to be very honest with the GS about my lack of skills and ebbing willingness to participate. “I’m not gonna lie, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing,” I tell her. “Don’t worry, it’s just nine minutes of running around,” replies Jess of Jess and Tova fame.
Defence suits me a bit more – it’s easier to try and smack a ball out of someone’s hands than try to aim for a hoop. But Wedd and Andersen are two speed demons on the court, and while there are moments where I can successfully swipe the ball, I end up dropping it anyway. At other times, I end up just getting in the way of our GK, Sherman, and spitting out apologies through my huffing and puffing. Burr’s commentary grows more and more severe, and I think I can tell what the parliamentary team are thinking: fuck, media people are annoying.
Behold, the 2025 Gallery Gals.
In the final quarter, Mutch-McKay misses a shot, and the ball falls behind the hoop and between myself and the GA, a ministerial staffer. She reaches it before me, but I reckon I’ve still got a chance, so I go for a swipe and end up slipping, falling on my legs and scraping my knee. Our kind-of coach, Adam Pearse, has to remind me that I’m not playing football. I begin to wonder whether it would be more embarrassing to have Winston Peters berate you for 40 minutes, or have the press gallery witness you fall over for 40 minutes.
But with the exception of me, our team is actually pretty solid. Sherman and NZ Herald’s Julia Gabel are great on defence, Breakfast’s Abbey Wakefield and The Post’s Anna Whyte sprint laps like it’s nothing, and Garrick’s comeback in centre has shut Burr up. For a bunch of people who started the day with no idea of how the game actually works and a bit of sports anxiety, we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.
It’s the final minute, and we’ve just scored our 17th goal. The ball flies down the court, from Wedd to Mutch-McKay, who lines up for a shot just as the ringing of the bell calls time – all good, because they’ve ended the match 10 points ahead of us. National backbencher Grant McCallum, grinning, holds the netted door of the indoor court open for us. “Great job,” says sports minister Mark Mitchell, having witnessed me eat shit for nearly 40 minutes. “Thank you, minister,” I gasp back.