Dom and Rogan both piss themselves laughing.
‘Fucken fraternising with a teammate, that’s gotta be in breach of the team rules, surely,’ Rogan mutters, poking his tongue out.
Because he’s our token straighty, I feel like I did the wrong thing drunkenly hooking up with a teammate and made him uncomfortable. Were we supposed to not fuck each other?
I look to Brick, who thankfully just snorts. ‘We’re all grown men. What happens on footy trip stays on footy trip.’
Rogan winks at me. ‘Ya cheeky bugger, Fudgy. Always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for.’
He was joking about the team rules. Of course he was. Why did I jump straight to the assumption that everyone would turn on me and kick me out of the team?
Fergus goes on to talk about some guy who barebacked him last night, and the conversation moves on without burning my reputation down. Nobody cares.
‘Orright, let’s finish off with some mini match sim. Three on three, one forward, one mid, one back. Ten minutes and let’s call it a night. Off youse go, then.’
I join Dom and Rogan’s team – I’m the forward – and we run out into the cold against Jack, Tommo and Fergus.
With each needle of rain that slices my leg, I think,This is making me tougher.
And each time I mark the footy, I think,I love this.
The mystery of who Jack and Brick were beefing with is solved after training.
Brick lets us into the Coolies clubrooms – all dirty lino and trophies and pennants on the face-brick walls – for a drink after training. We can’t use the club’s cash bar but they let us store our booze in their bar fridges.
The seven of us are sitting around sinking piss when the clubroom door opens, and a familiar but unexpected face steps into our space: Xander Sullivan. He’s wearing a blue denim sherpa jacket and fawn-coloured chinos, all as streaked with rain as his face.
Jack lowers his can of Woodstock from his mouth and screws his face up in rage: he looks like he’s gonna unleash every swear word in the dictionary.
Thankfully, Brick puts a hand on his shoulder and says, ‘G’day Xander, is there something we can help you with?’
Xander glances at the rest of us leaning on the bar. ‘Xavier, I’d like to speak with you,’ he says stiffly. ‘You can’t ignore my calls forever.’
I look around, confused about who this Xavier is, until the penny drops that Brick can’t be his actual name.
‘We’ve said all there is to say,’ Brick says firmly. ‘And I told you, call me Brick.’
‘You turned your phone off,’ Xander snarls. ‘I had to try to contact your vice-president, who is extremely rude and homophobic.’
He glares at Jack, who smiles way too widely, showing his teeth in a gesture that makes me realise he might have a violent streak to him.
‘What did you say, bro?’ Brick asks Jack out of the corner of his mouth.
‘He said I was a “stupid fucken poofter”,’ Xander cries.
Brick gives Jack a death stare ofWhy would you make this worse?
‘What?’ Jack says. ‘Heis!’
I don’t know how to explain it, but in that moment, I want badly to be Jack. That he could insult someone and look him right in the eye is some ballsy shit.
‘I apologise for Jack’s temper,’ Brick says. ‘But Xander, time for some hard truths. You don’t own other gay people. You don’t tell us what to do. You asked us if we’d make a comment about the AFL’s Pride Round, and even if we agree with you to some extent, we don’t want to pile on. You asked us to make a comment against the Shed, and none of us wants to join a public attack on a venue run by a same-sex couple themselves.’
‘That’s problematic,’ Xander rebuts.
‘No, what’s problematic is attacking everyone who doesn’t agree with you,’ Brick booms, his voice rising through the sentence until he’s almost yelling the ‘agree with you’ part. ‘We’vehad multiple conversations. We’ve considered and reconsidered. Our stance is final. You need to accept that and move on, or you’re being a nuisance. I’m asking you to leave now.’
Xander pouts at Brick, and makes a point of ogling Fergus’ jumper. ‘And here’s another issue,’ he continues, as if Brick hadn’t just dismissed him from the venue. ‘You claim to be an LGBTQIA+ football team, but there’s no indication on your uniform. Where’s the rainbow flag? Where’s the pride?’
