“Harry,” he said quietly.
“Nice to meet you, Harry.” I took his hand and gave him a comforting smile. He seemed to relax a little having something to hold on to. “Are you nervous?”
“A little bit. There’s a lot of people out there.”
“That’s okay. You just keep hold of my hand and then stand in front of me. I’ve got you.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I hope you win.”
“Thanks, we’re going to do our best to.”
He nodded stoically and I tried to imagine what Jack would be like in his position. Either bouncing up and down or chattering nineteen to the dozen, although he did have his shy moments when he didn’t know people. Maybe when he got a bit older, I’d see if he was interested in being a mascot one day.
If I could get him to give up getting his beloved sausage sandwiches as soon as he arrived.
I thought about him and Harper up in the family lounge and wondered how many sausage sandwiches Jack had consumedby now. My guess was at least two. Hopefully, he’d be happy to play for a bit, though, so Harper could watch some of the match, especially since I’d worked hard to try and teach him the basics.
Well… notthathard. We’d often gotten distracted or fallen asleep because the only real time we had was after Jack was in bed and by that point the rules of rugby were the last thing on my mind.
Harper wasn’t on his own, though, since Rory and Ryan had both taken to going up to the lounge to watch with him. They’d befriended Harper through loving force, but he’d happily let them and I was glad he’d made friends because it was good for him to know people other than Hannah and me.
Rory and Ryan regularly invited him to The Court, and Harper had also taken Jack to a couple of the summer drag story times. All the artists knew who Jack was, so he’d quickly been adopted by a whole host of drag performers who simply adored him and were happy to supply him with glitter and face gems.
Apparently one of them, Eva Nessence, who was surprisingly good with kids despite her fearsome appearance, had floated doing a family tent at Lincoln Pride this year and the idea had been picked up, so I’d already got the date in my diary.
The Knights would be at Pride too, marching in the parade, and we’d even talked about doing a Pride touch rugby game for players versus drag artists to raise money for charity. Clive was on board, and they were just putting the final details together to make sure it didn’t clash with anything else in our pre-season calendar.
The announcer’s voice boomed through the stadium and I knew it was nearly time. I smiled down at Harry and checked he was okay before we strode out onto the pitch, the rest of the team behind me. It was like stepping into a festival pit or onto a stage, the stadium creating a bowl of noise. It wasn’t as intense as aninternational stadium like Twickenham or Murrayfield, but it still sent chills across my skin and set fire to my blood.
There was nothing else like it.
We lined up as we were introduced to the crowd, then greeted the referees and our opposition, who walked along the line shaking our hands and the mascots’. Today we were playing Worcester, whose front row Danny had proclaimed to be shit. But they were looking to secure a solid sixth place finish and they weren’t just going to roll over and let us take the win.
As we took our positions on the pitch, I glanced up towards the family lounge, hoping my sunshine and my star would be watching. I imagined Harper waving to me, and I hoped I’d do him proud. At the end of the match, they’d come down onto the pitch so we could celebrate the end of the season, and I couldn’t wait to kiss my man or watch Jack run across the turf.
But first, I had a match to win.
The whistle blew and Devon kicked the ball high into the air, sending it soaring down the pitch and into touch. Not a bad start.
It didn’t take long to get the ball out towards Danny, who went streaking off up the pitch as if his mullet had given him super speed. The opposition tried to stop him, but Danny had always been nippy and Devon, Jonny, and I were keeping pace while our front row spread out across the pitch.
Danny finally went down when someone got a hand on the back of his shorts, half exposing his underwear. I noticed it had Bite Me plastered across the arse, which was new, but I couldn’t really put any more thought into it with the ball coming straight at me.
I grabbed it and took half a step, looking for someone to pass to, and noticed Kegan waiting. I handed it off as one of the Worcester players barrelled into me and sent me crashing to the floor. My hip twinged slightly and I winced. It wasn’t a bad tackle, simply a reminder that I was getting old.
It made me even more determined to win this match because one thing I’d never achieved in my career was a piece of silverware. And it would be nice, just once, to lift a trophy with the men who’d become a second family to me.
Plus the English bastards on the team hadn’t stopped going on about winning the Six Nations, and I had to admit I was a little jealous.
As I climbed to my feet and kept running, I watched the ball land in Charlie’s capable hands and smiled. If anyone could get it across the touchline, it was him.
I was proven right two seconds later as he dove across the line, slamming the ball down and skidding across the turf. The crowd went wild as music played and the commentator announced who’d scored. We all piled onto Charlie, hugging him and ruffling his hair.
“Good job,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Cheers,” Charlie said as he handed the ball to Devon, who was preparing to kick the conversion. The angle wasn’t the steepest he’d kicked this season, but there was a little bit of a breeze picking up, which would affect the way the ball travelled. But Devon was one of the best fly-halves I’d ever played with and I could already see him calculating what he needed to do.
We backed up to give him space, a couple of people grabbing a drink or talking to a physio. Jaden seemed to be struggling a little with his right shoulder, which was worrying because he’d need that arm to form the scrum and lock in beside West.
