“Good, as long as you understand.”
“I do.”
There’s so much more that I want to say, but what’s the point?He’s made up his mind, and that’s always been that.As soon as he gets something in his head, that’s it.No changing it.The most stubborn guy I know hasn’t changed his colors.I curse myself for thinking we could be more.For wanting more.He’s right, and that’s the worst of it all.
A few days have passed since Kyle and I met up.We exchanged our goodbyes and promised to keep in touch.We have, but it’s been one-sided on my part.I don’t know why I keep trying.I know I should give him space and that’s what I’m trying to do.There’s another big game coming up.Right now, at this end of the season, every game is a huge game.Gaffer is making us do double sessions in an effort to keep us match fit and sharp.There’s a reason why this club is the best in the country and quickly becoming the best in the whole of Europe too.
I’m doing a cool down with one of the center backs when I see the assistant coach coming over.I stand up and face him, showing him the proper respect our gaffer has instilled in us.“Johnson, you’re on the bench for the next game.Gaffer Elmstrom wants to utilize you as an impact sub.When you come on, he wants you to drift into any open space and look for an opening.”
“I can do that,” I say, full of confidence.It’s not the news I was hoping for, but it’s certainly a start.
I finish my cool down and head back to my house.The drive home is filled with thoughts of ways to make it into the first team permanently and with Kyle.Every thought always goes back to him.
Chapter 9
Kyle
“You’re going to have to work a hell of a lot harder than this to work off the unapproved food you had last weekend.Now, I want another fifty burpees.”
Sweat is pouring off me.I accidentally let it slip to Trish that I ate things I shouldn’t have and now she’s got me in my living room at 6:30 am.I’m pretty sure she is trying to kill me.Her peroxide blonde hair is tied up in a bun.When I opened the door to her, I should have known from that alone that she was pissed.
I do as she asks, pushing myself to the limit.I know she’s right, but it hurts like fuck.Whoever invented burpees needs to be put into the garbage bin and that bin needs to be set on fire.
“Good.Now hydrate!And not gin.I can’t believe you even thought you could get away with that.You want to be the best, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I somehow manage to say through stringy breaths.
“Then don’t drink gin again while you’re under my watch.And stick to the foods I suggest.I don’t give you them for my health.I give them to you for yours.Now, I want you to get on your exercise bike for a cool down while I make breakfast.”
I nod in agreement.Trish is right.She’s scary, but she’s right.It’s funny, the only thing I know about her is she’s scary and that she could kick my ass if I ever try to sass her—which I won’t—due to not wanting my ass to be kicked.I do fifteen minutes on the bike and when I’m done, I wolf down the breakfast which consists of egg yolks and an avocado…as a treat.I really should get her a dictionary so she can see the true definition of treat, but again, I don’t want to get the aforementioned ass kicking for sassing her.
“You do know I'm only hard on you because I care, right?”she says after I down my breakfast.
“Of course,” I say, trying not to heave.
“Out of all the people I look after at this club, I know you’re the one with the most potential.That’s why I'm harsher on you than the others.”
“And I appreciate that, I really do.”
“Good.Now, I’ll give you twenty minutes of digestion time and then we’re going out for a run.”
“Now we’re talking.”Running is my favorite.Running with the ball toward goal—well, that’s the icing…the, um, food-approved equivalent in Trish’s book on top of the Trish-approved cake.
She gives me her version of a smile, and I head upstairs to get ready.
We run for an hour.In the street, in the park—it is a free-form excursion, and it feels liberating.Running without limits or a destination, just like I used to.For one of the very few times, London feels all right.I won’t go so far as to say it feels like home, but I feel like I can tolerate it a bit more.
I get home and collapse on the sofa, Trish bids me goodbye and says to keep eating healthy.I say I will, and mean it.
The next day, I’m back at the training lodge being put through more paces.My nose has gone back to normal, which is a relief.
I have one thing on my mind, okay, two.But only one of them is going to get me in the coach's good books.It’s another big game on Saturday, and I want that starting eleven spot.I look over to our expensive striker, the one that cannot afford to be dropped, and see that he’s talking to the physio team.He looks frustrated with them and with himself.His hands are gesticulating wildly but I can’t make out what he’s saying.I notice that players around me have stopped now too, wanting to know what is going on; I shuffle forward.
“I can put the surgery off, just let me play.I am fine.I am telling you.I have been in this body for thirty-nine years.My tank is still full.”I can see the passion in his eyes, and the hurt.
“We can’t risk it.You’re too important to us.You need to have this surgery now, and you can be ready in time for next season.”Our team doctor says this to him.Coach is there now too, with his arm around his shoulders.
“And who?Who is going to replace me?”he asks almost incredulously.
