Kick Back

by K J

  Samuel spluttered, as both Nathaniel and Caleb sighed in resignation. “But—”

  “Are the shareholders happy? Has the business grown? Is the company transitioning to new media?” She tapped fingers at each question, and tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowed in fake concern. “Yes? Then good. Besides, you know very well that I am aware of what happens within Turner Media because my lawyer, Olivia, attends as my proxy.” She took a sip of her coffee, holding Samuel’s gaze.

  “I just wish you’d take it seriously,” Nathaniel said, his cup rattling in its saucer.

  “You have no idea how seriously I take it,” Bianca growled softly, narrowing her eyes. Nathaniel ploughed on.

  “The media’s the core of the Australian landscape. You know that. Dad knew that.” Bianca’s eyes glazed. Nathaniel gave a version of this speech every time she visited. “We shape people’s opinions. Didn’t work for that situation with the women’s AFL league, unfortunately. No idea what the hell happened there.” Bianca refocussed, turning her gaze to her brother, whose eyebrows were drawn together in confusion. She sipped her coffee in feigned nonchalance.

  Caleb grunted in agreement. “Yes, I had Eddie sorted with those pointless articles, and every time one was published, the bloody Beacon popped one out that was in complete contrast, extolling the player’s skills, etcetera. What’s the point of owning the public’s opinion if they’re just going to go out and find their own?” He sipped at his teacup in an irritated manner.

  Bianca hummed. “That sucks. It’s almost as if there was someone trying to redress the imbalance in the coverage of their season.”

  Caleb stared at her. “Exactly. Why would they do that?” Samuel snatched a fresh pastry from the plate Bilan placed at his right hand. He didn’t register her existence, instead gestured with the pastry at Caleb.

  “Yes. It’s girls’ footy.” He waved the same pastry at Bianca. “I mean, you’re a girl.”

  “There’s an observation,” she said, and thanked Bilan as she received a plate of cut fruit.

  “You know what we mean,” Nathaniel interrupted. “But it’s good you don’t get into all that social justice warrior rubbish. Dad would never have stood for that, despite what Mum’s thoughts were. The world doesn’t work that way.” Bianca cut a glance at her brother, then stabbed a pineapple chunk, shoved it in her mouth and chewed aggressively.

  “I am concerned about the story from that Beacon reporter,” muttered Caleb. “It’s almost too big to bury.” Cam, you superstar. “And not only that, the Beacon management have now increased their interactive digital journalism. We’ll miss out if we’re not totally up with that.” He pursed his lips.

  Bianca jumped in. “I'm surprised you concerned yourself with something as inconsequential as the women's AFL.”

  “Everything is of consequence, Rebecca,” Samuel said. He spoke slowly as if he was talking to a small child, and Bianca wanted to stab his fat fingers with a fruit fork. “A butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil and all that. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. The public clearly want the competition, despite the fact that it’s going to divert money,” he waved the last bit of pastry, “money that we direct you know, from the men’s league, which was the very reason we had to get rid of it.” He smirked at Nathaniel. “I mean, who wants to see a bunch of women running about playing footy, unless they’re in swimsuits?” The flesh under his jaw vibrated as he chuckled, then he leaned into Caleb’s space. “Look, it'll give them something to feel happy about while we direct their opinions somewhere else. Like the election. We need to get our guy in.” He made eye contact with Caleb then Nathaniel, and there was synchronised nodding.

  However, Nathaniel clearly didn’t want to let go of the AFL topic. “It’s baffling. The league is forging ahead with next year women’s league. Barry is ensuring that money will be thrown at it, and Sports Australia is involved as well.” He blinked and tossed his hand lightly. “They’ve even appointed a… what-do-you-call-it?”

  “A woman?” Bianca said, spearing a piece of watermelon.

  Nathaniel rolled on. “A director of something, like development or some other bleeding heart position. Some chick from this season. Nadine someone. Apparently, she won’t take no for an answer when it comes to women’s football, which is a bit overbearing if you ask me.”

  And no-one did. Bianca then mentally cheered for Nadine. The men continued with their commiserations, bemoaning what a complete waste of time their multi-pronged approach had turned out to be. Then Caleb, his eyes wide with disbelief, said, “And that girl died, then there was an outpouring of sympathy and suddenly the public are all for girls’ footy, even though we had them believing they weren’t.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the gall of Louise dying and becoming a sympathy figure. Bianca clenched her jaw.

  “Can’t compete against a death,” Samuel said wisely, a pastry trapped in his fingers and hovering near his mouth. “That’s free publicity right there. Public was always going to have sympathy for the girl’s game after that. Now you’ve got bloody Channel Four winning the rights to broadcast the whole league for three years.” The pastry acted as punctuation. “Anyway, as I said, it doesn’t matter. It looks like the competition is here to stay, so we may as well dedicate some space in the sports pages to it, seeing as that’s what’s gonna sell papers.”

  Bianca dabbed at her mouth with her cloth napkin, and laid it across her plate. “That’s what it’s all about, hey,” she said, utilising the flattest version of her monotone deliveries.

  Nathaniel beamed at her, then looked at the others, tipping his head towards Bianca. “See? Knew she was a chip off the old block.”

  Bianca flared her nostrils, and plastered a smile on her lips, counting silently to ten. Caleb and Samuel took the arrival of Bilan, who glided into the room to clear brunch, as their cue to leave. There was general handshaking, nodding and shoulder patting between the three men, and Bianca masked her disgust behind a social smile that she’d practiced too many times at too many pointless occasions.

  “I must get going as well, Nathaniel,” she said, having remained standing as Caleb and Samuel departed.

  He nodded, his mouth an upside-down ‘U’. “What are your plans for the rest of the year?”

  Bianca bobbed her head from side to side. “This and that. I’m sure I’ll do something that will make a difference.”

  “O-kay?” Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow, then shrugged. “What about the rest of today?” He walked with her to the foyer, and Max opened Bianca’s coat for her to slide into.

  “Thank you, Max.” She crinkled her eyes at him, then turned to Nathaniel. “This afternoon, I’m checking in on a couple of charitable donations I’ve made recently.”

  Nathaniel pointed a finger at her. “That’s the way. Good for tax deductions. It’s like free money.” He leaned in, gazing at her seriously. “I choose the latest sob story just before tax time. Money out and money in quickly, and it’s better publicity that way as well.” He straightened, tapped the side of his nose, like he was an extra in a 1950s gangster movie, then gave a singular nod. Bianca wanted to grab his finger and bend it back until he cried. “Right, well, I’ve got some phone calls to make. Thanks for visiting.” He delivered a perfunctory double kiss, then trotted upstairs to his study.

  “That was fun, like always,” Bianca muttered, and turned towards the door, currently being held open by Max. She grinned at the butler. “Take care, Max. I’m not sure when I’ll be seeing you next, but I hope it’s soon.”

  “You also, Ms. Turner. And I hope so, too. I do rather enjoy your visits.”

  The End

  AFL - a beginner’s guide

  The field and equipment

  The oval field is enormous, typically between 135–185 metres long goal-to-goal and 110–155 metres wide wing-to-wing. At each end of the field is a set of goals, which consist of four posts; two middle posts which are taller than the outside posts. The ball is oval-shaped with rounde
d ends.

  The teams

  Due to the sheer amount of space, each team fields eighteen players at a time, with four additional players available on the interchange bench. These extra players can be used tactically to influence certain periods of play, to replace injured players, or to keep the team fresh and rested throughout the match.

  The match

  Each AFL game consists of four periods of twenty-minutes and the umpire starts each quarter by bouncing the ball in the centre circle (This is similar to a ball-up in basketball). Once the ball is bounced, it is considered ‘in play’ and the players can contest possession. The teams compete to kick the ball through the middle of the other team’s two larger goalposts for goals worth six points each. After each goal, the ball is sent straight back to the centre circle so the game can be restarted with another bounce by the umpire. If the ball misses to the left or right within the smaller posts, hits any of the posts, or is touched before going through the middle any of the posts, a behind worth one point is awarded and the opposing team restarts the game at their end of the field.

  Method of play

  Players may run with the ball but must bounce it (or touch it to the ground in muddy weather) every fifteen metres or so otherwise they lose possession. They may also pass the ball to their teammates, either by handballing (placing the ball in one hand and punching it to a teammate with the other), or kicking it to them. When the ball is kicked, the players contest the ball in the air and if it is caught cleanly by any player, it is called a mark. The player who marks the ball can then take a shot at goal or kick the ball to a teammate in a better position who, provided they also catch it cleanly for a mark, can then make the same decision. Tackling is allowed. If a player has possession of the ball without marking, opposing players may tackle that player. If a tackle is successful, the player with the ball needs to dispose of it either by handballing or kicking it away. Failure to do so will result in possession of the ball being awarded to the opposing team.

  Terminology

  Supporting your team is called ‘barracking’. For example: ‘I barrack for South Melbourne’.

  AFL is known disparagingly as ‘cross-country basketball’ or ‘aerial ping-pong’.

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading Kick Back. If you did, I would greatly appreciate a review on your favourite book website. Or even a recommendation in your favourite Facebook lesbian fiction group. Reviews and recommendations are crucial for any author, and even just a line or two can make a huge difference. Thanks!

  Acknowledgements

  My acknowledgements page seems like the perfect place to show my gratitude to the women who play the physical, athletic, spectacularly breathtaking sport of Australian Rules Football, and in return for their skills and talents as professional athletes, receive little to no financial reimbursement, obscene levels of social media trolling, limited to no coverage in the media, and misogynistic attitudes from the highest levels of executive management of their own sport. While this is a work of fiction, AFL is a real sport and a quick search on YouTube will result in a plethora of videos demonstrating the ferocity of the game. The actual AFL Women's Football League (AFLW) is Australia's national AFL football league for female players. The first season of the league began in February 2017 with 8 teams, expanded to 10 teams in the 2019 season, then to 14 teams in the 2020 season. The league is run by the Australian Football League (AFL). Since its inception in 2017, the AFL board has been accused of lacking commitment to, and vision for the national women’s competition, and even at the time of this novel’s publication, they are yet to take any big or bold steps to ensure that the competition thrives. Public commentary recognises that the AFLW is not just a football competition, in which teams chase a premiership. It is actually a movement for social change. However, much of the structure of the AFLW seems to have been made up spontaneously as the seasons roll along, which has created huge waves of disenchantment with the AFL board. Hopefully, the AFL will hear the rumblings of discontent.

  My gratitude to Laure who has been a super cheerleader for my work from the very beginning. When I wrote my first novel, Learning To Swim, Laure took one look at it and said, “This is a great novel. I love your writing style, but the editing is not good. I will fix it.” I have wanted to hug her ever since. So, thanks Laure. Here’s your hug.

  Thank you to the following wonderful people: Sophie who was prepared to tell me point-blank if anything in the book really sucked. Nothing did, but she was prepared, and I totally appreciate how Australian that is. Dor, whose insights were really useful and helped Kick Back live up to its potential. Sarah, who is always happy to tell me hard truths, and wave pom poms. You’re all amazing humans.

  Thank you to Lee for letting me annoy her with many questions about reporting and journalism.

  Thank you to Elaine and Shantel who donated to the #authorsForFireys appeal to raise money for the Rural Fire Service during Australia’s terrible bushfires.

  To the gorgeous readers of my novels who have purchased my books, written wonderful reviews, or dropped me a quick message on their social media platform of choice. I adore you.

  To my son Nicholas, who wanted readers to know that he helped choose the name of one of the characters.

  And finally, to my incredible wife Roanne, who opens my heart, sees through my walls, and knows how much I kick back at my own struggles. She is my love, my person, my one.