Note to self: wearing girly outfit to women’s rugby league game is not a good idea.

Especially because it is winter and while black tights and grey tunic are good for office wear, they are not so great at keeping you warm on the sidelines.

Also, watching your very good friend get smashed by ladies who wouldn’t be out of place on Gladiators is not fun.

Honestly, I don’t know how the wives, mums, sisters and all those other loved ones watch those they care about get smashed every weekend because that’s their job.

Each and every time I saw my friend go down (which was often, because God love her she has heart but isn’t the fastest chicken on the field) I wanted to run over and make sure she was alright.

Which, dressed as I was, would not have been the greatest idea, considering some of the West Brisbane girls were the same size as my friend and I combined.

When she bravely hobbled off with a twisted ankle just before half-time, I wanted to run over, sit her down on a couch, make her a nice cup of tea and pop on an episode of Grey’s Anatomy (I figure watching a show about hot doctors is just as good as going to an actual doctor).

She didn’t even cry. In fact she smiled even though her ankle was roughly the same size as the head of the woman who tackled her.

I, on the other hand, got a little teary.

Which made me realise that a) I could never be a footballer’s wife and b) I don’t think these women who are get enough credit.

Sure, at the top levels there are a lot of perks which go with the tag – but I’m sure all the designer handbags in the world don’t make up for watching your husband struggle to get out of bed in the morning.

Or the worrying which goes with yet another surgery to repair yet another broken body part in an effort to extend their careers as far as possible.

Or those long nights when they are still waiting to find out if the latest surgery has been a success.

It’s hard watching a loved one get hurt at the best of times.

But when you know they have to get hurt to do their job, well that’s something different all together.

I’m sure Ben Hannant’s mum still gets a little choked up inside when she sees photos of her baby boy’s badly split lip.

And she’ll probably be holding her breath a few times when he makes his Origin debut tomorrow. Even with the funky looking head-gear.

Laurie Daley wasn’t born with that nose. Enough said.

I also got a little choked up when I heard my friend, who had just hobbled up to commiserate her team-mates on what I will refer to as a brave loss, apologise for not being able to come back on for the second half.

Which is probably why all those people strap up and run out onto the field every weekend knowing they are about to enter a world of pain. As with all the best competitors the body might be able to be broken, but the spirit will always hold strong.