by Paul Cude
"Well?" asked the team captain.
The rugby player cancelled the call on his phone.
"He's not picking up. It just rings out, with no option to even leave a voice message."
"That's really odd," piped up someone else. "He's nearly always the first one here. I do hope nothing's happened to him."
Trying not to let his disappointment show too much, the captain was well aware of just how much more of a formidable team they were with Tank in their side, and knew exactly how much the hulking monster of a rugby player wanted to win this match. They'd talked about it only a few days ago, agreeing on a strategy and some very simple and straightforward plays. But for him not to turn up now was something of a letdown to say the least. His mind echoed the sentiments that his fellow player had just expressed... he hoped nothing bad had happened to him.
Janice snaked through the crowd, following them this way and that, almost carried on by a will other than her own. Sunglasses and a baseball cap provided her anonymity. For the last week or so, she'd been undecided on whether or not to attend. Even that morning, she still hadn't known. But in the end, the desire to be here had outweighed any doubts that she'd had. So here she was, mingling with all the other spectators, ready to watch all the fabulous sport on offer. At least, that's what she told herself. Inside though, she knew it was nothing to do with that. She needed to see him, even if it was from just a distance, and she knew that he'd be here. The team sheets with the names of the players competing today had been listed on the website for a week now, and two names stood out: Tank in the rugby match, and the one and only Richie Rump in the lacrosse match. If she hadn't known before that he'd be here, those two names only confirmed it.
With the matches not quite ready to start, she found herself beside the rugby pitch, right next to the second team warming up. Trying to look casual and not too interested, she attempted to see where Tank was, assuming that Peter wouldn't be that far away. Beside her, the team captain was talking to one of his players.
"Any sign of him?"
"No. None at all I'm afraid."
"Damn. I can't believe he's not here. It's so unlike him."
"Perhaps he's just stuck in the traffic."
"Unlikely. Tank's normally the first one here. If we've all made it and he hasn't, something somewhere is very, very wrong."
"What are we gonna do?"
"We'll just have to start the match without him and hope to hell that he turns up at some point."
With that, both players turned away and trotted over to the main group that were warming up.
'How odd,' thought Janice, 'Tank not turning up. That is unusual. I suppose I'd better check the lacrosse pitch to see if Richie's there.'
Shoving her way back through the crowd and away from the rugby pitch, the diminutive bar worker continued to look out for the love of her life.
Richie, by now fully kitted up, her stick in one hand, a ball in the other, led her team into the corridor, out through the main door into the blazing sunshine, down some rickety old steps and headed through the crowds straight towards the pitch. The last team member locked the changing room door. Adults clapped and children waved enthusiastically as the team wove through the crowds, a smile on everyone's face.
Almost ready to start, the teams for all three of the other matches had nearly finished warming up. The idea had been for all four games to kick off at the same time, allowing spectators to drift between matches and get a good look at all the sports and the teams involved. Given just how many people had turned up, the moving about bit might prove more than a little difficult.
Oddly, the ladies' lacrosse team opposition hadn't turned out on the pitch yet. Realising this, Richie asked one of her players to go and check if there was a problem. She knew that they were here, as they'd been in the adjacent changing room. After a few minutes, the messenger came sprinting back to inform her captain that one of the opposition's cars hadn't yet arrived, so they were currently four players short. Richie nodded, understanding that such things happened, with the high volume of traffic in and around where they were no doubt only compounding things.
"Go back and tell them we'll wait," she declared. "We're not in any hurry, and after all it's supposed to be more like an exhibition match, rather than anything too serious. I'm sure the crowd would much prefer to see us take on a full team, rather than one depleted through no fault of their own."
Richie informed the rest of the team and the officials about the slight delay as her teammate sprinted back towards the makeshift changing rooms to deliver the message.
Around them, whistles blew to signal the start of the other matches. As one, the lacrosse girls stopped, taking in the spectacle of all the sport on offer.
A bright, clean rugby ball spun high up in the air, over to their left. It was impossible to see which team had kicked it, let alone which player, with the scale of the crowds around the pitch. Looking on, Richie was sure that Tank would be having a great time, totally immersed in the fever pitch atmosphere of the game.
Off to the right, the men and women playing mixed hockey stood out in their bright orange and bright blue tops, respectively. Full pelt was the best description of the game from what little Richie could see, with both the men and women struggling to fully control the ball on the slightly more uneven surface than they were used to. Richie smiled at that. Peter had confided in her that he'd often wondered what it would have been like to play hockey on a grass pitch, as it had been all the time in the not so distant past. Sometimes he'd drive past a beautiful grass pitch at a school or something and be slightly envious of those playing on it. By the looks of things, playing on grass was a lot more random and a lot more dangerous than on Astroturf, something the Salisbridge men and ladies were just finding out, no matter how well cut it had been. Hoping that Peter was watching from somewhere amongst the crowd, drawing his own conclusions about the surface, she looked forward to catching up with him later.
Like giraffes in a zoo, giant lacrosse sticks rose into the air above the crowds on the men's pitch right next door, a tangled, corded head on the end instead of ears, eyes and a gargantuan tongue. Watching in fascination at the appearance of the long sticks, she knew there could be no more than four of them on the field of play at any one time, and that's how many she counted. It was a facet of the men's game that had always intrigued her. Of course, she'd had a go many a time and was constantly astounded at how far it was possible to throw the ball. Playing a match with one of those would be totally different from anything she was used to, but the possibilities of how to change the game tactically rolled round and round inside her mind. So many options.
A shout jolted her back to reality, just in time to see a bright orange ball heading for her face. Instinctively her lightning reactions took over, catching the ball in the head of her stick.
"SORRY!" came a shout from Ali, one of her teammates.
Smiling, with a flick of her wrist, she sent the ball hurtling back to where it had come from, with just a touch more speed.
With the sun bathing her limber body, surrounded by her friends, she continued to warm up, stretching her arms, legs, back and ankles before joining in with the other players, cradling the ball while all the time twisting and turning her stick, passing to her team mates before moving on towards goal. Emma and Joey, the two other forwards, were already there, firing shot after shot at the very agile Harriet, the Salisbridge goalie, looking menacing in her black as night helmet and facemask with matching gloves, throat and chest protector. Even her gum shield was black. All of that, combined with her oversized stick, made for something very intimidating. Richie scooped up one of the practice balls from the ground, turned her stick from side to side, weaving her body back and forth, all the time cradling the ball. Harriet watched intently, as did the other two forwards. With little drawback, Richie powered her shot forward. A few of the spectators let out a gasp, realising the speed of the shot. The first thing poor Harriet knew was the sound of the ball
hitting the post and bouncing into the back of the netting. She gave Richie one of her looks (not that anyone would have been able to see with all that protection around her face) glad that the awe inspiring super striker was on her side.
After a few more minutes of warming up (well, mainly Harriet's back in Richie's case, from all the bending down and retrieving the ball from the back of her net) they were greeted by the sight of their opposition heading out towards the pitch, all twelve of them by the look of it.
'Hurray,' she thought, 'a few minutes' warm up for them and then we can get underway.'
As their smiling opposition jogged past them, eager to reach the other end of the pitch and warm up, one turned and looked menacingly in her direction, standing out like a black cloud in a clear blue sky on a summer's day, pretty much like this one. Recognition blossomed into life inside Richie's head, sending a cold chill down her spine and goose bumps up her arms.
'What the hell is she doing here?' was her only thought.
Unable to remember the woman's name, Richie always thought of her as either 'Attitude' or 'Hulk' given her muscular physique. (Richie always did this with her opponents. During warm up, which she regularly watched with intent, she normally picked out names for them all for her to apply during the match itself. Cocky, Hairy, Freckles, Ginger, Blondie, Big Gloves, Fancy Trainers... all those and more she'd used on more than one occasion.) Attitude/Hulk normally played for Bristol Fire Foxes, but for some reason had appeared today and seemed to be turning out for the Avalon Avengers, a very friendly up and coming team from Somerset. Richie's reaction to the player could be put down to their meetings over the course of several seasons, where there had been many run ins between the two of them, with the Salisbridge captain almost always coming out on top. But Richie considered this woman her nemesis, if indeed such a thing existed, particularly given the physicality of her game. She could remember coming off after games against her, literally covered in cuts and bruises, aching from head to toe, just from the beating she'd taken at the hands of this woman. Right now she hoped there'd be none of that, after all it was a friendly and all about raising money not just for the sports club, but also for the poor people who'd been affected by the devastating attacks across the world. Pushing it all out of her mind, she gathered the team and started giving them their customary talk, remembering to be clear about precisely what manner the game should be played in, given that it was in fact a friendly and that lots of spectators who'd never even seen the sport would be watching, with the aim being to show them everything good about the sport. Everyone agreed, and with a mighty cheer, left the aforementioned huddle to take up their positions on the field of play, with the Avalon Avengers doing exactly the same thing.
Some of the crowds from the other matches had started to take an interest now that the ladies' lacrosse looked as though it were about to start, with a twisting line of onlookers filing their way around the circumference of the pitch, carefully avoiding the space at the back of the substitution area where players that have been sent off sit out their two minute penalty. Everybody's intention was undoubtedly that this particular area wouldn't be called into use this afternoon.
With all the practice balls off the pitch, Richie strolled up to the centre line, ready for the draw, having already indicated to the umpire that Salisbridge were ready to play. Standing facing her opponent, all thoughts of anything but the match had been wiped from her head as the umpire, sporting his usual attire, placed the ball between the back of their crosses. Without a hint of emotion, he said,
"Ready."
Both women remained completely motionless, focused, waiting for the inevitable whistle. It seemed to take an age, there in the glorious sunlight. Not for the first time that day, Richie felt the tiny weight of the necklace with the ring on it that Peter had given to her some time ago. For some reason it seemed to be charged, almost burning her skin... but in a good way. Nearly drifting off into thoughts of what it all meant, she was abruptly shaken out of it by the shrill, piercing sound of the umpire's whistle. One thought above all others registered in her brain: 'PLAY!' And so she did.
Channelling all her might into raising her stick as she had done countless times before, she watched as the ball zipped high into the air, over her left shoulder and back into her own half. Instinct took over, her feet moving her body into the nearest free space, all the time mindful of where her teammates were, and just what she could do to help them out. Currently Angela, one of the Salisbridge defenders, had the ball nestled in the crosse of her stick, having just feinted one way and then sprinted the other way around the outside of her attacker. Richie slowed her run a little, intent on heading out wide on the left, as that was the direction Angela was now running in and it looked as though that was the place to be. Just as she was about to turn, a sharp, almighty pain tore across the lower half of her back, forcing her to close her eyes and drop to her knees in agony. Aware of what was going on around her and that the match was still continuing, she staggered to her feet, wheeling around, trying to find out exactly what had happened. It didn't take long to figure things out. Attitude was standing not six feet away, an ominous looking grin chiselled into her dour, plain face. A thesaurus of expletives sprang forth in Richie's mind as her mouth opened automatically, but by then her brain had the presence to stop anything from spouting out. Shocked, open mouthed and wide-eyed, she watched Attitude turn around and run back, just catching Angela out of the corner of her eye, zipping past her, out wide on the left.
'Damn,' she thought, hoping against hope that what had happened was just a sporting accident. Pushing the pain to one side, she stumbled off towards the goal they were attacking, hoping to give her side at least one more option.
Harriet, the Salisbridge goalie, had seen it all. Well, she hadn't as it turned out, but she was sure she knew exactly what had happened. Just as Richie had checked her run and was turning to move outside, the strapping great defender who she recognised from another club they played against, must have hit her teammate hard with the end of her stick, right in the base of her spine.
'That,' she thought, 'is just not what today is all about.'
While Richie hobbled as quickly as she could to catch up with play, Angela had just played a beautiful one-two with Joey, one of the other forwards in her side, and was in the process of lobbing the ball to Emma who stood expectantly some way back, behind the goal.
Still deeply disappointed that the officials had missed what felt like an assault, Richie darted around to the right of the goal, careful to stay well back from the goal circle. Emma, having caught the ball, zipped in and out of the player trying to block her off, all the time looking for someone to pass to. Richie knew that Emma was trying to pick her out, hoping she'd make one of her normal runs. And so she did... well, at least she tried to. Her right foot pushed off, but suddenly as if from nowhere, a weight had appeared on her left foot as she tried to move... resulting in a screaming pain down the inside of her left knee. Once again she buckled over, landing hard on the lush, freshly cut grass. This time a whistle accompanied her fall. Staying down, vaguely aware of the whispered voices all around her, it wasn't until a gentle hand came down on her shoulder, followed by some comforting words, that she opened her eyes.
"Rich... take your time. Are you okay?"
Fissures of pain streaked up the inside of her knee, on even the slightest lateral movement.
'At least it distracts me from the pain in my back,' thought the beautiful former dragon, trying hard to find some kind of relief as she rolled up into a sitting position.
By now, half the team had gathered around her, concerned by her injury, knowing there was no way she would go down unless genuinely hurt.
"What did she do?" spat Sue, one of the team's midfielders, angrily.
"Deliberately stepped on her foot to stop her from moving off," replied Joey, before their captain could say a word.
"She's an evil one, she is," offered up Ali.
"Why is it
she's playing for them now?" asked Jan, up from the back. "Last time I heard, she was still playing for the Fire Foxes."
"Who cares?" muttered Poppy into the gathered group. "Let's just kick their arses back to next week, and make them scamper back to Somerset with their tails between their legs."
"That's not really the attitude... is it?" exclaimed Richie, getting to her feet with a little help from Emma. "We need to show everyone watching what this sport is all about. Don't forget that!"
The group crowded around her looked suitably chastised.
Planting her left foot down, Richie ignored the pain that flooded up and around her knee. At exactly the same time, something primal and frightening flittered around her subconscious. Murky and dark, it fought to be unleashed, even through an overwhelming sense that she was above all of this. Sweeping it to one side, almost as if she'd been trained to do just that, the comforting voice of Emma cut in.
"Do you think it's wise to continue?"
"Wise or not... we're done!" announced the bullish ex-dragon, who'd had more than enough of this bully, even though only a few minutes of the match had passed.
Sue passed Richie's stick back to her, while the others took up their previous positions. Determined, but visibly shaken, Richie too took up her position, all the time eyeing Attitude, wondering what the hell was going on.
For the next ten minutes or so, the crowd were treated to a smorgasbord of smashing lacrosse... just how the game should be. Action changed from end to end, with both defences putting outstanding pressure on the passers, leading to fabulous interceptions, which in turn led to relentlessly quick transitions, turning defence into attack in the blink of an eye. Nobody, however, had scored yet. Both keepers had made astonishing saves. The Avalon Avengers goalie had made two brilliant saves, one with her hand, that she tipped over the crossbar, the other she caught in her crosse. Harriet, the Salisbridge keeper, had used her feet to good effect, making what most would consider to be a mind-blowing save, to keep her team level at 0-0.
