Mason was just shit stirring.
“Oi, watch where you’re throwing the ball, dickhead,” I yelled, barely catching the pass Kegan had thrown my way, snatching it out of the air before it smacked me in the face. “You’re meant to aim for my arms, not my nose!”
“Chill out, mate, it was one bad pass,” Kegan said. “And you still caught it.”
“Only ’cos I’m actually good at my job!”
Kegan rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Wheeler. You’re being a right whiny brat today.”
“Am not!”
“Yeah, you are.”
“You’re the one whining,” I snapped, throwing the ball back at him and watching gleefully as it smacked him in the stomach. Deep down, I knew his pass wasn’t that big of an issue, but for some reason everything that afternoon was getting under my skin and frustrating the fuck out of me. The feeling had built up over the day, and now it felt like there was this angry buzzing in my head I couldn’t shake.
I was pissed and frustrated and I had no idea why.
Only that it felt like nothing was going my way.
“Grow up,” Kegan said, tucking the ball under his arm. “You’re being a bellend.”
“Takes one to fucking know one.”
“Hey! What’s going on?” Matty asked as he approached us wearing that concerned parent face he seemed to have perfected over the last six months. The one that said he wasn’t mad, just disappointed.
“Wheeler’s being a brat,” Kegan said, gesturing with one hand like I wasn’t stood two fucking feet in front of him. “I threw one slightly high pass and he’s acting like I’d tried to murder him or some shit.”
“What the fuck? No! You threw a shit pass and then tried to deny it.”
“I didn’t deny it,” Kegan said. “I said it was a bad pass but you still caught it, so it’s not like it’s really an issue. And then you blew up at me.”
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” I said angrily, jabbing my finger in his direction. My brain was screaming at me that I was taking this too far, but I didn’t know how to stop myself. The restof the backs were gathering around us now, all muttering to each other as they judged me.
Fuck them, I didn’t need any of this.
“Don’t be a twat and I won’t have to,” Kegan said, stepping a bit closer. The atmosphere between us felt like a shaken-up bottle of pop ready to explode as soon as someone touched the lid.
“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Matty said firmly as he put himself between us, putting his hands on our chests to keep us separated. “Danny, I don’t know what is bothering you today, but your behaviour is out of order. You need to calm down and if you can’t do that, then you need to get off the pitch and go and cool off.”
“What? I didn’t do anything!”
Matty stared at me, exasperation written across his face. He pointed at the edge of the pitch where Clive was stood next to a bunch of water bottles. “Okay, that’s enough. Ten minutes. Go and calm down and figure your shit out.”
“You can’t send me off. You’re not a coach.”
“No, but I am your captain and you’re out of order. And if you keep throwing a tantrum, I will get Clive and Tommy involved and they’ll tell you exactly the same. So get your arse moving and come back when you’re ready to apologise and train properly.”
I scoffed and threw my hands in the air but couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t get me in trouble. Instead I did as I was told and stalked over to the edge of the pitch and pretended to get a drink, hoping Clive wouldn’t have noticed the mess.
He did—he noticed everything. But at least he was nice enough not to say it to my face.
All he asked was, “Everything okay, Danny?”
“Yeah,” I said, deciding that, for a moment, honesty was the best policy. “Just getting in my head about shit. I dunno why.”
Clive nodded as I grabbed a bottle of water and took a long drink, resisting the urge to chew the top of it. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
