by K J
Sophia smiled softly. “Yeah, he did. It was his mantra for all sport. Just go play.” She looked up into her brother’s eyes, which were filling with tears. Her breath caught, and no amount of rapid blinking could stop her eyes doing the same. “Oh, Ben.” He pulled her into a fierce hug.
“That’s what you’re going to do, my amazing sister,” he whispered into her ear. “Play the game for yourself, for Dad, for Louise, for all the players, for whoever you think needs to see the game for what it always was and what it could be.” He pushed on her shoulders and he held her gaze. “Go play.”
Sophia wore Ben’s words as a little personal badge when the team ran out onto the field later. The sky, the colour of dirty dish water, was perfect for football, and the temperature sitting at a very brisk fifteen degrees tingled her muscles, driving her thrill at the occasion. The camera crews at the boundary, and mounted in the stands added to the already surreal feel of the day. The crowd greeted the players with roars and cheers, and her entire body broke into goosebumps under her warm-up gear. She made eye contact with a few of the other players, to find their faces just as awestruck. Craig sent them on a jog around the boundary line; another moment that threw an incredulous grin onto Sophia’s mouth. When Sophia travelled past the simpering woman clutching the microphone who was all but salivating as she gushed into the camera about the meaning of the day and how tragedy brings out the best in people and what a rollercoaster it all was, Sophia nearly whipped around and told her exactly what she thought about all of that. Today wasn’t a rollercoaster of emotions at all.
“She’s only doing her job, Sophia.” Craig’s sentence, accompanied with a pat on the shoulder, was all it took to swing her thoughts in the right direction. Still doesn’t mean it’s a rollercoaster. Her nose wrinkled in annoyance as her boots dug into the pristine turf, kicking up blades of grass. Today was the smoothest of highways with vivid fireworks exploding randomly to the side, casting a sense of wonder over the day, while giant camouflaged potholes waited surreptitiously to yank ankles and pull hearts into grief. That’s the sort of day it was.
Craig brought the team in for a tight group chat, but he spent the first minute nodding quietly, turning in a slow circle, looking at their black armbands taped over their sleeves, and simply breathed. Then he focused on Fitz, reached out and shook her hand.
“This is yours. I’ll be over at the boundary.” He walked through the gap magically created in the group, which closed after him like an organic life-form. All eyes turned to Fitz. Arms about shoulders and waists. Heads craning forward to catch all the instructions for the game. It was a tightly bound cluster of red and white.
Fitz set her jaw, her lips a perfectly straight line.
“Okay,” she announced. “Right. This is it. The grand final. Playing at the MCG.” Her words, delivered in such short sentences, were like individual LEGO pieces that knew they were supposed to join together but had lost the instructions. “A great team. We’ve got great players. We’ll win because—”
Her stoicism crumbled and a mask of sorrow covered her face. The corners of her mouth turned down.
“This is all wrong,” she whispered. She looked out towards the Yarra Valley team—in an identical huddle—about twenty metres away, then she disentangled her arms from around the players next to her, and made eye contact with as many of her team as possible.
“Come with me,” she said, her low voice infused with purpose.
Demonstrating exactly why, despite her faults, Natalie ‘Fitz’ Fitzsimmons was an outstanding captain of the South Melbourne Women’s AFL team, she marched over to the Yarra Valley huddle with her players close behind. Jacquie Laurence, their captain, stopped mid-sentence in what was probably her pre-match rev-up and looked at Fitz. Then, without speaking, through some sort of secret captain’s communication, Jacquie nodded and the Yarra Valley team seamlessly absorbed the South Melbourne players into their sporting embrace.
Sophia swallowed deliberately. This gesture. Fitz’s awareness. It was a firework on the smooth highway of the day, and how spectacular it was, casting a light over the pothole that threatened to consume her before she’d even started the game.
Jacquie deferred to Fitz with a chin lift, who tipped her head in gratitude and gazed around the group of fifty women.
“I know we’re supposed to be rivals today, and I guess we are in that we’re competing for a prize. But we’re united as well. We’re united against the arseholes who took our game, threw it on the ground and spat on it. We’re united against what happened to Louise and the other rookies in our team. We’re united against the idea that women’s sport is seen as something less, as everything less, than men’s sport.” She grit her teeth and Sophia could see her throat working hard to swallow. Jacquie touched Fitz’s shoulder, and looked out at the sea of yellow, green, red and white. Her voice, higher in pitch than Fitz’s, rang clear, and a fire burned in her dark eyes.
“When we all turn around in a minute, we’ll see that there are thousands of people here today. They’re here to honour Louise, to celebrate us, and to rejoice in a women’s match being played on this amazing field. But we need to look at one group in particular. There are hundreds of young girls here today, who don’t really know anything about Louise Verheer and the bastards that killed her.” Her voice wavered, and she set her jaw. “They don’t know anything about how our league nearly crumbled this season. They are here because we are here, and we represent their future and their dreams. And the girls who aren’t in those stands but are sitting in front of a TV in their lounge rooms? Those TV cameras will pass on that representation for us. Those girls want to be us. So, let’s be who they want us to be. Let’s kick back at those who say to girls that they can’t be football players.” She tossed her head, her dark braids flying about. “That they can’t be professional football players who are elite athletes. Let’s show them that they can.”
***
Sophia knew she’d never played a game like it. From the initial centre bounce to the final siren, the red football became a coveted treasure, where possession of it, even if only fleeting, imbued in every woman a confidence and conviction that elevated their skills. Each spectator—for whatever reason they had for their attendance—witnessed a masterclass in courage and integrity and a dedication to personal and professional standards. It was breathtaking, as was the noise of those thirty-five thousand spectators. Her heart exploded with emotion when she kicked her first goal. The ball sailed between the tall white goal posts, travelling end over end, and a shower of happiness and grief and relief and pure joy poured from her heart, and the crowd roared, or maybe it was her, the sound filling the stadium and undulating across the field.
Craig was in his element, manipulating his full allowance of the substitution bench, ensuring all players received their fair share of time on the field, despite being five players down. Leigh, of course, wasn’t playing due to her injury, and Hara, Mel, and Naomi had not been cleared by the independent medical team who were still concerned about their liver test results. She blew out a frustrated breath as she streaked past the bench, remembering how devastated the rookies had been.
“You’re off soon,” Craig bellowed after her. She stuck her thumb in the air; the gesture meaning more than an acknowledgement of Craig’s instruction. It meant yes. It meant satisfaction. It meant that, despite Yarra Valley winning on the score board and more than likely the match, everything was excellent, because Sophia loved this game. Loved it, even though she was losing the grand final. She loved this game, even when the best parts of it had left this season. She loved it.
Sophia saw the ball leave Nadine’s boot. It came spearing through the air, spinning like a torpedo, arcing across the fifty-metre line. She knew where it would be when she got there. And it was. She kicked off the ground, right knee lifted to push up and up the back of the Yarra Valley player, who grunted and with one final push, the player fell away and Sophia hung there, waiting, a hundred metres in the ai
r and then she was flying as the ball slapped into her hands, and she landed, clutching it to her chest. The ball was hers. She was in charge. She knew what to do.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sophia kicked down Flo’s stand once she’d manoeuvred the moped onto the footpath, and snuggled it up to the resilient tree growing from the concrete outside the café. The morning had begun with an absent Cam and a note on the bedside table, stating that Sophia was utterly adorable when she was curled up under the covers, that Cam hadn’t wanted to wake her, and that she’d gone down to visit Magic at their café and to come down when she was ready. Their café. That produced a grin. She and Cam were starting to collect ‘couple’ things, and the expected barrage of anxiety-driven catastrophe scenarios that Sophia was prepared for hadn’t arrived. Of course, she was very aware how incredibly new, new, new she and Cam were. The grand final was only last Saturday, and here she was, a week later, clutching both bike helmets, checking the little box was still in her pocket, and ready to push through the café door into a new moment of her life.
The days since last Saturday had been hectic but then not really at all. She and Cam had discovered more about each other, learning that they both liked to sit quietly reading or watching TV without the need to fill silences with inane chatter. It seemed to make their actual conversations, even the pedestrian ones, more significant, which was a silly thing to think, but there it was. They’d made love—Sophia wasn’t sure when having sex had become something more, but it had, and the very idea made her skin flare and her heart blaze right alongside.
Cam, who had launched spectacularly into her new job, fielded questions all week about her story, which exposed the underbelly of a sport that Melbournians hold so closely to their hearts that it is nearly a religion. Sophia and the team met with the two Sports Australia lawyers who had many questions and expected many answers and were so intense that a feral smile, which started in the meeting, hadn’t left her lips even when she left the AFL headquarters two hours later. She tried to imagine being a fly on the wall at the actual moment when all that lawyerly intensity launched itself at the AFL Board.
While she was enjoying that fabulous film in her head as she strolled down the wide expansive steps at the MCG forecourt, Craig appeared in her line of sight, and asked if she was considering playing again next season. Sophia had known for a while what her answer was always going to be.
“I don’t think I’m able to, Craig,” she said, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets and hunching her shoulders against the cold breeze.
He nodded slowly. “I understand. Physically?”
“Emotionally and mentally. Probably physically, too,” she smiled wryly.
“Fair enough.” His blonde wispy hair fluttered, and he pulled a beanie from his pocket and jammed it on his head. “Well, the women’s league is having money thrown at it next season. It’ll be a whole different scenario than this year.”
“Yeah, I heard. Are you confident that it’ll be carried through?”
Craig lifted his eyebrows, and adjusted his scarf. Melbourne’s winter was obviously winning its personal battle. “Yeah, I think it will. They’ve appointed a new manager for South Melbourne—Vanessa Jinks—who used to manage operations at City Basketball. She’s asked me to be the senior coach.”
“Yes!” Sophia shot the word out through a wide grin. They nodded in stereo, a happiness bubble hovering over them.
“Yeah, I’m really pleased. She’s asked me to appoint staff, because of the new money allocation. You know, runners, and junior coaches for field placement. That sort of thing.” More mutual nodding. “I need an assistant senior coach who can work on motivation, wellbeing, and skill development particularly with the rookies,” he said.
Sophia let the silence grow, absorbing the street traffic nearby. “Great.”
Craig quirked a smile, then the lines in his craggy face deepened. He crossed his arms and levelled a gaze at Sophia. “Want the job?”
Sophia had stared at him for a full ten or so seconds, felt her mouth gape, then bypassed his handshake and headed straight for a hug, a move he clearly wasn’t expecting but seemed to enjoy, even if he patted her back awkwardly and then shuffled his feet. “Well, good. Good,” he muttered, and rearranged his scarf.
Those moments had been fireworks. Then there’d been the moments when loss had lifted its little ‘remember me?’ sign. Sophia knew those all too well. She knew that grief was not a rise, then a plateau, and a fade off into the horizon. It was erratic, like a tide that hadn’t met the moon, and so she welcomed its pain, recognising its value in the balance of all things.
They’d met J’aann and Mark for dinner on Wednesday night at the Chinese place around the corner from Cam’s flat. It had been Cam’s suggestion, while she was unpacking essentials like milk and bread onto Sophia’s kitchen bench late Tuesday morning.
“You know there’s one thing I haven’t said yes to yet,” she said, opening the fridge and sliding the bottle into the shelf on the door. Sophia leaned against the bench.
“What? Will I like it?” She grinned.
Cam lifted a corner of her mouth. “I think you will. So, I figure that because you’re attractive, and I’m attractive…” Cam faded off as Sophia’s grin grew impossibly wide, and she pushed off the bench, taking two steps towards Cam. They held a long gaze. “Then we should be attractive together in a restaurant somewhere.”
Sophia’s eyes sparkled, recalling those very words from the beginning of the season. “Are you saying yes to a date?”
“I suppose so,” Cam smiled, then rolled her eyes. “Otherwise you’ll just keep bugging me for—” She squeaked in delight as Sophia grabbed her waist, swept aside the groceries, and dropped Cam onto the bench, then proceeded to kiss her until they were both breathless.
Although, doubling their date with J’aann and Mark wasn’t exactly what Sophia had in mind. It didn’t matter, though. Dates and dinners out at restaurants and going to movies and doing things together were ahead on her very smooth road all the way to the horizon and the thought sent exquisite shivers up and down her spine.
J’aann had promptly hugged both of them when they arrived, then Mark had launched into a thorough analysis of Saturday’s match with Sophia, which J’aann indulged for approximately five minutes before waving a menu at him and announcing that she’d even be willing to blend orange and yellow foods tonight if they would just stop.
Cam had choked with laughter at Sophia’s face when J’aann announced that she’d still like to get her hands on Sophia’s body and play with her muscles.
“Professionally, of course,” she clarified, delivering a small parcel of saffron rice into her mouth. Mark was laughing quietly, so with a quick glance at Cam, Sophia leaned towards J’aann.
“I think that playground is now closed for Cam’s private use only,” she said, seriously, though a smile threatened. J’aann nodded, her brow furrowed.
“Oh, totally.” Then she swung her gaze to Cam. “You know you can always ask me for advice about which toys to use in that particular playground.” Customers at nearby tables had looked over at their shouts of laughter.
The conversation circled back to the grand final, with Sophia expressing her curiosity about the hashtag that had lured much of the crowd to the match. Mark sipped his beer, and hummed.
“Ah. I might know something about that,” he muttered into the froth at the top of his glass. J’aann turned her whole body towards his.
“What?”
He put his glass down, flipped his dark fringe away from his eyes, and looked at his girlfriend. “I got some of the clients on board.” J’aann’s eyes widened.
“Seriously?”
“Okay. Clueless over here.” Sophia waved her fingers. Mark made eye contact with each woman.
“My job is to leverage moments of change.” He smiled wryly at Sophia’s befuddled expression. “I manage a number of social media influencers. Due to their enormous followings on I
nstagram, Twitter, etcetera, they can influence people’s opinions, preferences, ideas, based on how those ideas are presented.” He fiddled with one of his chopsticks. “I hope you don’t mind, but when J’aann told me what happened with the league, I was really upset, so I mentioned it to a couple of my clients and they were outraged as well. Social media influencers tend to express their outrage with an inordinate amount of tweeting and instagramming, so all I did was suggest a hashtag.” Realising he was clutching his chopstick a little too intensely, he replaced it carefully on the white tablecloth. “Women are amazingly strong and wonderfully powerful and those fuckheads took Louise’s power before she even had a chance to discover it for herself.” He delivered a tiny one-shoulder shrug. “It wasn’t fair.”
J’aann got in first. She flung her arms about his shoulders and kissed every square centimetre of his face. When his eyes were visible again, Sophia reached across the table, grabbed his hand, and leaned over to softly kiss his cheek.
“You’re a good guy, Mark,” she whispered.
***
Clasping the helmet straps in one hand, Sophia pushed into the café, which was wall-to-wall noise of conversation, cutlery, and coffee grinding. A regular Saturday morning. Without needing to search, she locked eyes with Cam who had managed to score—or was allocated by Magic—the coveted corner table in the window. Sophia grinned, lifted an eyebrow, then pointed to Magic at the counter indicating that she’d order and be over soon. The bottom lip bite and wide smile she received in return registered low, low in her belly. Yum.
Magic was animated, much more than normal, to the point that she abandoned signing her sentences to Sophia within the first two words, preferring to wave her hands erratically in a series of vague gestures. She quickly asked the other server to cover for her, and dragged Sophia to the back of the café.
“You’ll never guess wha’?” she said earnestly into Sophia’s face.
“I have way too many ideas.”
