LAST night I dreamt I was shipwrecked on a tropical island with Cristiano Ronaldo. As he removed his wet shirt to reveal that famous chest, only one thought came to mind: “Yeah, that’s nice mate - but you ain’t Sash Petrovski...”

Waking up, I realised I’d drifted off while watching the Gunners v Utd, in a vain attempt to fill the echoing void left by a Mariner-less weekend. Don’t get me wrong – it was a cracking match full of the thrills and skills that only the EPL can offer, but mere brilliance just doesn’t satisfy me any more. I need a dose of yellow (preferably live) on a weekly basis to maintain my health and well-being.

It wasn’t always like this. Growing up, my family religiously watched the iconic English football show Match of the Day which screened once a week on the ABC. The rousing theme music is forever embedded in my brain and formed the soundtrack to my brother’s endless Subbuteo tournaments. We were in awe of the glamour and style of English football clubs and couldn’t wait for the day when we could experience this first hand.

Only a few weeks ago I went to a Carling Cup match at Emirates Stadium. As a regular spectator at Highbury in the 1990s I was amazed to see how the club had changed. For any Aussie football fan, walking into Emirates for the first time is a jaw-dropping experience.

The impossibly perfect pitch stretches out like green velvet and at half time, a team of groundsmen came out with manicure scissors to trim some stray blades of grass. Well-dressed fans chanted politely. I think they were trying to say “who are ya?” although it sounded more like “excuse me, could you kindly reveal your actual identity?”

“Isn’t this glorious?”, I said to my husband as we waved our Mariners scarves to support Sheffield Utd. But he (only half-joking) described it as ‘a soulless temple to money’ while my son just wanted to know what they’d done with the palm trees. We felt a little more at home at Upton Park, but the tickets were still $120 each (not the top price either) and the team left the pitch without so much as a wave.

There’s nothing like a Captain Cook over the fence to make you realise how lucky you really are. Like many other football fans, I am overjoyed to finally have a team to call my own and a genuinely exciting Australian football competition that’s worth watching, analysing, talking, writing, arguing and joking about.

Seeing the Reds play Gamba this week made me proud, despite their sad loss, and the prospect of watching my own team in Asia next year makes my heart beat a little faster. While I still watch and enjoy the EPL and other leagues, it’s the A-League that has captured my heart and the hearts of so many other fans because (daggy as it seems) it belongs to us.

This was apparent when NQ Fury announced their name and logo, provoking hundreds of online comments. Sure, their logo looks like ball in a hula skirt and somebody forgot to tell them The Furies were female (“Get up you girls!”) but this massive interest demonstrates just how popular the A-League has become.

Unlike the glamour leagues overseas, our ticket prices are affordable, our fans are appreciated, our competition is not boringly dominated by a few clubs with the most money. And with Kossie and Dutchy, we’ve got enough footage already for our very own “20 to 1 A-League Dummy Spits”. Hell, there was even a stadium collapse in Perth this week – what more could you ask for?

But you know Australian football has truly come of age when Peter Fitzsimmons mentions the Young Socceroos without even the merest hint of sarcasm. Or maybe that was just a dream...

Julia is amazed at how many important household jobs can be avoided through watching A-League matches. Twice. And the highlights show.