3
Ryan
We all make ourselves comfortable in the changing rooms after training, for the pre-match meeting. The coach was hard on me today: he didn’t cut me any slack and the other guys all seemed particularly aggressive. Maybe I’ll end up being the team mascot, or the one who gets kicked for fun, to release a bit of tension.
I sit down towards the back, as usual, waiting for the others to stop pissing around and take their seats.
I have an ice pack on one shoulder, which took a bigger beating than it should have during Scott’s last tackle, and I can feel the muscles in my leg screaming with pain from the force. But even though physically I feel like shit, I actually feel strangely good.
Sport. That’s what I need.
Jamie sits himself down next to me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, noting the look of surprise on my face.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the meeting...?” he says, raising an eyebrow.
“I mean, what are you doing here in the back row next to a loser like me? Why aren’t you up front with Ian like all the other star students?”
Jamie’s the team captain, a good friend of Ian’s – not to mention that he’s also Riley’s brother. Basically, let’s just say that my brother has it very easy – unlike yours truly.
Jamie laughs loudly. “Thought I’d sit here today, next to you.”
Confused by what he’s said, I decide not to ask any more questions, and to concentrate instead on the coach, who’s just begun to speak.
He shows us the tactic board, tells us about our opponents, makes his final recommendations, reminds us that we’re actually just hopeless bastards, and finally grabs his clipboard ready to announce the line-up.
“And lastly…Ryan O’Connor,” he says, making my jaw nearly drop to the floor.
“Well done, mate,” Jamie says into my ear, while the room explodes into a rumble of noise and whistles.
“But, what…”
“Looks like it’s your time.”
I glance at him, narrowing my eyes.
“What’s wrong? You knew this would happen sooner or later.”
Actually, I thought the coach would never use me. I’ve been on the team for four months, always on the bench: I was accepted onto the squad for that very role, so I never expected more.
When they offered me a place in the team, after I’d unceremoniously walked away from my previous squad, I thought the coach was just winding me up. He’d known me since I was little, so I thought the offer had come from some sort of paternal guilt.
Let’s be honest: I’m twenty-eight, not young enough anymore to attract any attention to myself. I’m not strong like my brother, I don’t play in the scrum. I’m quick, precise, and alert, but I’m not the best player in the rotation, and I’ve accepted that. Maybe it was different a few years ago. I was still a boy, I was ambitious, determined, passionate… Now there’s barely anything left of that boy who dreamed of the blue jersey, who believed in his own drive.
Maybe the coach doesn’t want to take any risks, and has decided to chuck me out on the field because I’m disposable, easily replaceable.
“You’re up to it, right?”
Jamie always worries about everybody. He’s not just a captain, but a friend, a companion and a guide.
“Of course, what kind of question is that?”
“Good!” he smiles, satisfied. “Both the O’Connor brothers out on the field together for the first time, side by side. It’ll be fun!”
It’s true. Despite the fact that all three of us have played since we were kids, none of us have ever played in the same team – at least not at this level. We were close, once. Then someone decided to ruin everything.
