Leopard Spots - 53. Chapter 53

The cheers started in the grandstand and quickly spread through the assembled Leopard supporters. By the time the players interrupted their Friday-night training session to join in, Ty’s face was very red.

He had been doing an upper-body workout in the gym, under the supervision of Jackie, when he decided he needed to do some more walking to loosen up his knee. Jackie had initially thought he meant on a treadmill, but Ty wanted to go outside so he could feel like he was part of the team as they prepared for Sunday’s preliminary final against the Box Hill Hawks.

What he hadn’t expected were all the onlookers. Over a hundred Leopard supporters were there watching the training, most of them in the grandstand, but with a reasonable number scattered around the edge of the oval.

“Where did all these people come from?” Ty asked as he hobbled his way through the gate in the fence.

Jackie laughed. “It’s been way too long since the Leopards have made a preliminary final. We’re all excited, and there are a lot of supporters who want to be a part of the preparations. Just wait until next week and this crowd will appear small.”

Ty glanced around. Spectators at training sessions weren’t unusual, but rarely more than twenty. Having over five times that number present and staring at him – at least that’s how it felt – was unsettling. “I think this is more than enough.”

“If you think this is bad, you’ve obviously never been to watch an AFL training session in grand final week. Thousands show up for those.”

“This isn’t the AFL. This is the VFL.” Ty grimaced. “I’m a Leopard, and that means it’s time to get going. We’ve got finals to prepare for.”

He took a deep breath and then focused his mind. He knew he had to show everyone that he was a chance for the grand final, and that meant not revealing the depth of pain his knee still gave him. Gritting his teeth, he started his way around the edge of the football oval, just inside the fence so he wouldn’t interfere with the players practising in the middle.

Ty made his way slowly around the ground. The supporters who lined the fence gave him encouragement as he hobbled along, to which he did his best to respond with a smile. It meant he couldn’t concentrate as much as he wanted, but he found the distraction also helped take his mind at least partly off his knee. The flashes from cameras and phones were the worst, but Ty tried to make sure he didn’t look like he was in too much pain when his picture was taken.

As he completed his first lap, Ty glanced up at the grandstand. Most of the supporters had returned their attention to the players on the oval, but a number were watching him, including Clarissa, Helena, and Stacey. Ty raised a hand and waved before starting his next torturous circuit.

He was partway through his fourth lap and feeling more comfortable when Julie jogged over to join him. Jackie had dropped over after the second lap, telling Ty that she would be keeping an eye on him but that she didn’t think she needed to walk with him.

“Okay, brat, no more than two more laps. We don’t want you to overdo it.”

“Yes, Mum.”

Julie had started to turn away, but stopped and frowned back at Ty. “What did you just say?”

Ty grinned through the pain he was feeling. “I said, ‘Yes, Mum’.”

“Brat, I’m not your mother. All I’m doing is trying to make sure you don’t overexert yourself.”

“Yes, Mum.”

Julie rolled her eyes and walked away. Ty frowned as he continued his hobbling walk. From her reaction, his housemates hadn’t been using Julie’s new nickname.

* * *

Peter smiled. “Have a seat, brat. We’ll head off for the team meeting once the guys have finished their showers, but I wanted a word with you in private first.”

Ty made his way to the visitor’s chair in Peter’s office and carefully lowered himself. He had his right leg stretched out to the side so he only had to twist a little to face his coach. “What about?”

“I understand you’ve been trying to get your teammates to call Julie by the nickname, ‛Mum’. I need you to stop.”

Ty frowned faintly. “It’s only a bit of fun. No harm intended.”

“I know, and I can even guess as to why you’re doing it, but you can’t continue.”

“Why not?” Ty shrugged. “I’ll stop, but can you explain why?”

Peter nodded his approval. “There are two main reasons. The first is simply that it’s too likely to become a distraction for our finals preparations.” Peter leant forward. “Brat, I appreciate that you’re both anxious and frustrated with your knee, and while humour is a much better approach than anger as a way of dealing with that, your teammates need to be able to concentrate on getting ready for the game on Sunday.”

Ty’s frown deepened as he thought. He then grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t see it from that perspective.”

“It’s okay. I could see that you were doing it as a circuit breaker for your own problems, even if you didn’t realise that yourself. That’s why I wanted this private chat.”

Ty flinched. “I was being selfish again.”

“A little, but that’s not uncommon. You’ve got a lot of pressure on you, brat, and you needed to blow off some steam. If it didn’t look like distracting the other guys, I might’ve let it go...if it wasn’t for the other reason.”

“And that is?”

“Julie’s one of your coaches, and you’re our vice captain. As such, I need you to show her a certain degree of respect. Calling her ‛Mum’ is crossing the line.” Peter held up a hand. “I know you don’t mean it to cause any harm, but I need Julie to have a position of authority, and that nickname undermines that.”

Ty cocked his head. “Mum’s a term for an authority figure.”

“One that teenagers have a tendency to rebel against.” Peter shrugged. “It’s borderline, but under the circumstances, I’d prefer it not to be an issue. We’ll probably have new Leopards next year, and I don’t want them to get the wrong impression. Calling Julie ‛Mum’ will not give them the right understanding of her position in the club.”

Ty nodded slowly. “Gotcha. Everyone here knows who she is and what she’s like, but newcomers won’t, and calling her ‛Mum’ would confuse things.” He pulled a face. “Sorry, Peter.”

“It’s not a big deal, brat. As I said before, I’m more concerned about being prepared for Sunday.”

“Yeah...” Ty winced. “I definitely don’t want to mess that up.”

Peter chuckled. “Okay, that’s settled. What are your plans for the weekend?”

“Back to the hospital both days.” Ty grimaced. “Unfortunately, the only time slot I could get for the hyperbaric chamber on Sunday was in the afternoon, so I’m going to miss the game. I tried to get an appointment for the morning, but they couldn’t fit me in.”

“We all understand, brat. You concentrate on getting better; we’ll concentrate on getting into the grand final.”

* * *

“Thanks for coming to the airport with me,” Deon said as he and Clarissa waited in line at the security checkpoint. Sam and Marcus would be arriving shortly on their usual Friday-night flight.

She smiled. “I gave you the choice. We could go out tonight or tomorrow night, but with the end of the school term coming up, I couldn’t do both. As it is, I’ll be spending most of tomorrow studying, because someone talked me into going to a football match on Sunday.”

Deon gave a self-conscious chuckle. “Yeah...sorry about that.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“For making this weekend all about me. You’re rearranging things because of my football.”

“The only rearranging I’ve done is to do my homework on Saturday instead of splitting it between Saturday and Sunday. That, and moving some of the work from Friday night to Saturday night. I gave you the choice about that one, and you asked me to be here tonight.” Clarissa shrugged. “Which night I went out didn’t bother me, and I like Sam and Marcus, so seeing them again isn’t a chore.”

“Still, you’re trying to fit in with me, not the other way around. I shouldn’t be making you shift things around to suit me.”

Clarissa gave him a hard stare. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. We won’t worry about this weekend, but for next weekend you can reorganise the VFL grand final and make it Saturday instead of Sunday and move it from Etihad Stadium to Lilydale. That will make my life easier.”

Deon bit his lower lip, and his face went red. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Then why suggest that you could?” Clarissa gave him a small push in the direction of the metal detector as they reached the front of the line. She continued once they we both on the other side in the Melbourne Airport Qantas-terminal food court. “I understand that there are things that are out of your control. When I can work around them, I will. When I can’t, then I won’t be with you. It’s that simple. It’s nothing you should be ashamed about.”

“I’m not ashamed! It’s just...”

Clarissa finished the sentence for him. “...that’s why your last girlfriend left you.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not your last girlfriend.”

Deon gave her a quick smile and leant over to give her a kiss. When she turned her head, it ended up being a peck on the cheek instead of the lips. “Sorry.”

“So you should be.” Clarissa flicked him a quick smile before her expression hardened. “Don’t compare me to anyone else, Deon. I’m my own person, and I make my own decisions.” She poked him in the chest. “You may have an influence in what those decisions will be, but they’re still mine, not yours.”

Deon winced. “Look, I’m sorry. How about I make it up to you? From what Neil’s told me, the grand final weekend is the start of the break between terms 3 and 4. How about I take a day off, and we do whatever you want to do? Pick a day.”

Clarissa stared back, her expression still stony. “Okay.” She smiled, but Deon thought it had an unpleasant edge to it. “But rather than taking a day off work, why don’t we go out the last Saturday of the school holidays and spend the day together, just the two of us? That’ll be the first Saturday in October.”

“Er...can we make it another day?” Deon shuffled uneasily on the spot.

She smiled sweetly. “Why? Do you have some sort of football event on that day? Maybe the state combine that Ty told me you’d been invited to?”

Deon winced again. “Okay, you’ve made your point.”

“And what point would that be?” Clarissa asked, still using a sickly sweet tone.

“That football is still very much in control of my life.” Deon’s tone was one of dejection.

Clarissa reached up and pulled Deon’s head down for a kiss. She then smiled, this time more naturally. “No, stupid. The point is that I understand where football fits in your life, and I’m not ignoring it. My eyes are wide open, and I know what I’m letting myself in for.” A grimace appeared for a moment before disappearing. “And that includes having to wait until the draft in November to find out what sort of future we might have.”

Deon wrapped his arms around her and gave her a long hug. He then kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”

She pushed him away, though she smiled as she did so. “Enough of that. Let’s go wait for your dad and Marcus.”

* * *

On Saturday afternoon, Tony gave Jim a gentle kick. “Ty’s at the hospital with Karen, Deon’s off with his dad and Marcus, Ryan’s gone shopping with Fiona, and you’re sitting here watching TV. Let’s do something.”

Jim smiled up at his boyfriend. “Peter told us to take today easy. We don’t want to be tired for the game tomorrow. Otherwise, there would be lots of things I can think of for us to do since we’ve got the house to ourselves.”

Tony chuckled. “I know what Peter told you, and everyone apart from Ollie is probably taking that seriously. However, I thought we could go for a drive. There’s a historical site not too far from here that I wanted to revisit. I understand there may be a re-enactment occurring today.”

Jim was puzzled. Tony had never expressed much interest in history previously. “What sort of re-enactment.”

Tony grinned. “While normally I’d tell you, I think I’ll leave this one as a surprise. You’ll find out when we get there.” He gave Jim another gentle kick. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Twenty minutes later, as Tony was driving through the suburbs of Melbourne, Jim frowned. “I thought you said this place wasn’t that far away.”

“It’s not, relatively speaking. Maybe another ten minutes, possibly fifteen, depending on the traffic.”

“Can you at least tell me what the historical event was about?”

“Nope. You’ll find out when we get there.” Tony flicked Jim a grin before returning his attention to the road. “But I think you’ll like it.”

Jim was about to try to find out more when his phone rang. After he checked the caller ID, he frowned as an unknown number was shown. Hesitantly, he accepted the call. “Jim Henderson.”

“G’day, Jim! I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time. I know you’re probably getting ready for your big match tomorrow, but since I was in the neighbourhood, I thought I’d call to see if you were available.”

“Who is this?”

Jim heard a chuckle. “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Corey Sandstone from Port Adelaide Power. Any chance of meeting up? I’m currently in your area if you’re free.”

Jim swallowed to get rid of the lump in his throat. Port Adelaide was the AFL team from South Australia that he had supported all his life. “Er...I’m out at the moment, but maybe we can catch up sometime later today?”

“That suits me fine. I’ve got an appointment tonight with another young player, but I’m free until six. When would suit you?”

“Just a sec.” Jim put the phone down and quickly explained to Tony what the call was about. “How long are we going to be at this re-enactment?”

Tony hesitated. “I was thinking an hour, but we can skip it if you prefer.”

“No, you wanted to see this, so we’ll do that and then head off.” He put the phone to his ear. “How about four o’clock?”

“Perfect! Whereabouts? I have to be in Ringwood at six-thirty, but that’s my only constraint.”

“We’ll have to pass through Ringwood on our way back, so why don’t we meet you there?”

“Sounds great. Just curious, who’s the ‛we’?”

“I’m with my boyfriend, but he won’t interfere. I’m sure he can find something else to do while we talk.”

“No, no, he can join us. It’ll be good to meet with him, too.”

Corey and Jim took a couple of minutes to organise where they would meet before ending the phone call. Jim sat silent, not seeing anything around him as he tried to process the implications. While Essendon had spoken to him several times, it had always been in the context of the Purple Bombers supporter group. Since Carlton – who he hadn’t heard from for months – he hadn’t been contacted by any of the AFL clubs regarding his football.

Jim was peripherally aware that Tony had tried to speak to him immediately after the phone call but had then let him be. It was only when the car stopped and Tony switched off the engine that Jim brought himself back to his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was Tony smiling at him.

“Sorry, Tony.”

“You obviously had a lot to think about. It’s okay. Anyway, we’re here and we’ve got an hour. Which is rather appropriate, as it turns out.” Tony winked.

Jim looked out the car window expecting to see a crowd waiting for the historical re-enactment but was surprised to see that they were parked at a suburban park with only a handful of people scattered around the area. It took him a moment longer before he realised he’d been there before.

Tony grinned when Jim’s head snapped around to look at him. “I take it you recognise the place.”

“This is where we came for our first date. We had an hour before I had to leave so my housemates wouldn’t get suspicious.”

Tony nodded. “Back when you were still in the closet. Also the site of our first kiss, a re-enactment of which I’m hoping will occur soon.”

Jim chuckled. He leant over and gave Tony a quick peck on the lips. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” He smiled as he sat back in the car seat. “Thank you, this is just...perfect. But our first kiss was at the nightclub where we met.”

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “That was two strangers out for a good time.” He nodded to the park outside. “This is where two people falling for each other had their first kiss.”

“An event worthy of a repeat performance.” Jim reached over and squeezed Tony’s hand. “Thank you,” he repeated. “This is a fantastic way to spend the afternoon.”

* * *

Jim and Tony were waiting at the agreed spot in Ringwood when they were approached by a casually dressed man with a thick black beard and a mop of messy hair. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and was carrying an iPad. “Jim! I’m Corey.” He glanced to Jim’s side and smiled. “You must be Tony.” He shook both their hands and then waved towards the coffee shop behind them. “Shall we go in?”

“How did you know my name?” Tony asked as they sat down. “I heard Jim’s side of the conversation earlier, and he didn’t mention it.”

Corey chuckled. “It’s called doing my homework. I think all the clubs will have your name on their records; we certainly do. Jim’s got a high-enough profile that people keep tabs on what he’s up to.”

“Really?” Jim gave Corey a look of disbelief. “I’m just a VFL footballer.”

“A good one, too.” Corey was about to continue when a waitress came up and took their coffee orders. Once she was gone, Corey gave Jim and Tony a critical look. “I’ll be up front and say that, while we like how you’re playing, Jim, we currently don’t have you as a must-draft player. You’re on our list as an option, as are a multitude of other players, including a number of other Leopards. That’s why I’m in the area; I met with one of your teammates earlier today, and I’m seeing another one before dinner tonight.”

“Can I ask who you’re talking to?” Jim asked.

Corey shrugged. “It’s not really my place to say.” He grinned. “However, I wouldn’t mind if you could tell me what you can about Dave Islington and Deon Bradshaw. Just idle curiosity, you understand.” He winked.

Jim chuckled. “And, if you happen to be speaking to either of them, you’ll be asking them about me?”

“Something like that.” Corey’s light-hearted tone disappeared. “Seriously, you’re a good midfielder, Jim, but so are a lot of others. You’re originally from South Australia. Would I be mistaken in assuming that you wouldn’t mind returning?”

“Not at all! I’d love to be near my parents again.” Jim hesitated and glanced at Tony. “But it’s not something we’ve discussed.”

Tony smiled and put his hand on top of Jim’s for a moment. “It’s okay. In my line of work, getting a job isn’t that difficult. If we move to Adelaide, I’ll find something.”

Corey’s gaze flicked between the two, his expression unreadable. “Nothing is certain. I want to make that absolutely clear. If you get drafted, we see you as a late-round pick. You’ve got the skills, but you’re also a lot older than many of the other midfielders we’re looking at. If you’re selected, you’ll need to be able to play at the higher level almost immediately to be competitive. Younger players we can let develop more, but someone your age we expect things from pretty much straightaway.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Jim shrugged. “What can I say? I’ll do my best, but you guys are the ones to decide what you see as my potential. I believe I can do what you want, but how do I prove it?”

Corey nodded slowly. “Before we get to that, are you able to tell me much about Dave? We see him as a real wildcard. As a midfielder, we’d rate him as stronger than you, though you’re more versatile in what you’re capable of doing as well as being younger, but we understand he has a mental-health issue. I appreciate there are things you can’t say, but what can you tell me?”

While Jim thought about what would be permissible, Tony leant forward. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but isn’t it a bit odd to be asking Jim about someone that you’ve implied is competing for the same position with your team?”

Corey gave him a wry smile. “Yes and no. Firstly, there’s always the possibility, remote though it may be, that we decide to take both of them assuming they’re both available when we make a pick. However, character is an important aspect of what we’re looking for. I know I’ve just put Jim in a difficult position, but if he wants to be drafted, he’s going to need to handle things like that. Life in the AFL isn’t easy.” Corey shifted his focus to Jim and waited.

Jim made a face. “As you said, there’s lots I can’t say. My opinion is that his...situation...won’t cause a problem. With appropriate adjustments, he’s coping fine with the Leopards, and I can’t see that being any different for an AFL club. He has his quirks, but if they’re accepted – and they’re not really significant – then they shouldn’t cause a problem.”

“Are those adjustments more or less than the adjustments needed to accept a gay player in the team?”

Jim hesitated again. The tone of the question was bland, giving him no clues as to how he should respond. He decided with the almost-truth. “The Leopards didn’t make any adjustments for me.”

Corey’s eyebrows rose. “None at all? None of the players had a problem?”

Jim glanced at Tony. He wasn’t sure he could answer that question honestly without saying more about Dave than he should. He also didn’t think he could decline to answer without revealing the same thing.

Tony frowned. “There were a handful of players with issues at the start, but the players realised that that was their problem, not Jim’s. It was all dealt with without the club needing to make any changes, and there’s been no problem since.”

Corey stared back across the coffee-shop table for a moment and then smiled. “Thank you. Now, about your football...” Corey played with his iPad for a moment and then pushed it across in front of Jim. “Here’s a short video clip. I want you to tell me what you think will happen next.”

Jim had heard Ty telling Deon about recruiters doing that, but it was his first encounter with the approach for evaluating a player’s understanding of the tactical and predictive portions of being a football player.

* * *

“Rise and shine!” Todd gave Neil a nudge. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

Neil sighed and then rolled out of bed. He stretched and rubbed his eyes. Only then did he stare at his roommate who was already dressed in an old pair of tracksuit pants and T-shirt. “Have you been up long?”

Todd shrugged. “A little while.” He smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t sleep that well. I’m a bit nervous about the game today.”

“You’ll be fine.” Neil smiled back. “The team is really firing at the moment.”

“Yeah, but so are Box Hill or they wouldn’t be where they are now.” Todd sighed and pulled a face before grinning. “Don’t take too long getting ready or Ollie and Paul will have eaten all the food.”

Neil chuckled as he sorted out the clothes he’d be wearing. It was going to be another traditional big breakfast before the match. “I’ll be there once I’ve had a quick shower.”

Ten minutes later, Neil entered the kitchen where Todd had laid out a collection of cooked bacon, eggs, tomatoes, and toast. There was also a selection of cereals on the sideboard and a large jug of orange juice. The coffee was percolating nearby.

It was as he was sitting down that Neil realised that there was one person missing. “Where’s Helena?”

Oliver shrugged. “She went home after you lot had already gone to bed. She’ll meet us at the game.”

Todd paused with a fork of toast, bacon, and egg halfway to his mouth. “Whose idea was that?”

Oliver didn’t meet anyone’s eye. “It was a mutual decision.”

Paul chuckled. “Ollie, didn’t you listen to Peter in our meeting on Friday night? He said to try to keep things as normal as possible and not let the finals change things too much. For you, that means sex all night.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad!” Oliver gave Paul an indignant glare. “We do sleep for a few hours.”

“Not many,” Paul said dryly.

“Are you beginning to stress about the game?” Todd asked Oliver.

Oliver gave him a half-smile. “A little. I haven’t played in a grand final since I was twelve, and I don’t want to be the one today who stops us from making it that far.”

“Then try to relax. If you’re stressed, you won’t play well.” Todd waved to the food. “Since you never told me Helena wasn’t going to be here, we’ve got more than we need, so eat up.”

Oliver chuckled. “Don’t worry, the food is all going to disappear. That’s not going to change.”

Neil hesitated, and then decided that teasing his housemate was an acceptable part of the pre-game breakfast ritual. “Ollie, I thought sex was supposed to be relaxing. Shouldn’t Helena be here to help you get ready for the match?”

While Paul and Todd laughed, Oliver scowled at Neil for a moment and then grinned. Oliver lifted his middle finger in Neil’s direction. “You stay out of this.” He winked. “But it’s not a bad suggestion.”

* * *

Peter watched the players in the change room at the North Port Oval as they prepared for the game. They had arrived on the team bus thirty minutes before, with everyone calm but focused. Several were taping up whatever limb they were concerned about – ankles in most cases, though Charlie still taped the shoulder he’d damaged at the start of the season, even though Jackie had told him there was no need to do so – while others had started on their stretches.

Once he was sure that everything was proceeding as normal, Peter walked over to where Neil was helping Jackie organise the first-aid gear. “Neil, I’ll need to borrow you for a few minutes once the guys are ready. When I start the pre-game briefing, can you be standing next to me?”

“Sure.” Neil obviously didn’t know what Peter wanted him for, but he didn’t ask.

Peter smiled. “Thanks. I really appreciate this. Just play along with what I say; that’s all I need.”

Fifteen minutes later, the players were assembled and waiting. Peter took the small bag he had brought with him and stood at the front. After a glance from the coach, Neil moved over and stood next to Peter.

“Guys, this will be a big game, an important game, but it’s time to remind everyone, including myself, why we’re here.”

Peter draped an arm across Neil’s shoulders. “We’re here for people like Neil and the supporters of the club, as well as the staff members. They’re the ones who come each week to watch us play. They’re the ones who do the necessary work to make sure that we can field a team. They’re here so you guys can get out there and do what you love doing: playing football.”

Peter let go of Neil and bent down to the bag at his feet. “But that’s not all we play for.” He pulled out a Leopards sleeveless jumper. It was one of the spares that the club kept in case a jumper needed replacing during a game. He turned it around so they could all see the number on the back: number 17, Ty’s number.

“You’re also playing for each other. All your teammates rely on you to do your job, and you rely on them. Today, we’re also playing for the brat. He’s not here because he’s confident that you will win today and he needs to get ready so he can join you next week. Your coaches are also confident that you’ll win today...but you still need to do the work.”

Peter handed the jumper to Neil and spoke to the young runner quietly. “Put this on.” When Neil looked uncertain, Peter smiled and nodded towards the top. “Go on.” He then turned his attention back to the players.

“Today, you’re playing for our supporters, you’re playing for the Leopard staff, and you’re playing for your teammates. Now, get out there and show the Hawks what the Leopards are made of!”

Peter smiled as the team roared. He grinned at Neil who was looking self-conscious in the overly large Number 17 jumper. “Neil, I want you to run out with Roger, wearing that top. We want to tell everyone that Ty’s here in spirit even if he can’t be here in person. Do it for the brat.”

Neil’s jaw dropped, and then he smiled and nodded his head. “Okay, Peter. For the brat.”

* * *

The two AFL scouts were catching up on their family activities since they were last at a game together when Brendan Scholls frowned at the players running out onto the ground. “Who’s that wearing Number 17 for the Leopards? That’s not Flanders. He doesn’t even look like a footballer.”

Isaac Long peered down for a moment. “No idea, though he looks familiar. I’ll check the player lists to see if he’s mentioned.” Shortly afterwards, he shook his head. “There’s no record of a Number 17 playing today. It’s probably some sort of symbolic gesture since their vice-captain is injured.”

Brendan sighed. “I really don’t understand that boy. His team’s in the preliminary final, they go to the effort of having someone wear his number for him, but he doesn’t appear to be here. Why can’t anyone get through to him that if he wasn’t so self-centred, he’d be playing in the AFL?”

“He might be in the change room, getting ready to come out.”

“Then why give his top to someone else to wear? He’d wear it himself, even if he wasn’t playing. I’ll be delighted to be proven wrong, but I don’t think he’s here. The selfish idiot can’t even be bothered showing up to cheer on his team in the finals.”

“Give him a break; he’s hurt his knee. He’s probably at home trying to rest it. I tried to find out how serious it was earlier in the week, but he hadn’t been to see a doctor at that stage. Regardless, it looked pretty bad from the reports I heard.”

“I overheard some of the Leopard supporters saying that they’re expecting him back next week. That doesn’t sound like it was anything major. He could at least have made the effort to cheer on his teammates.” Brendan shook his head. “He just doesn’t get it. He needs to be a team player if he’s going to get anywhere.”

Isaac hesitated for a moment before responding. “He might be starting to get it. I spoke to him a couple of weeks ago and he was praising Bradshaw’s efforts and encouraging me to recommend him. Having said that, his father told me when I rang earlier this week that Flanders is thinking of dropping out of the VFL.”

“I hope that’s not true. I still hope he’ll come to his senses and ends up in the AFL.” Brendan grinned. “With North Melbourne, of course.”

Isaac chuckled. “I said pretty much the same thing to his father, though I’m hoping he’ll end up at Hawthorn.”

Brendan sighed. “Until then, that kid is going to drive me nuts. I can’t stand to see talent being wasted, and that’s what he’s doing.” Brendan focused his attention on one of the Leopard players. “Changing the topic, what’s your take on Islington?” While others were doing warm-up exercises, Dave was doing some stretches not too far from the grandstand where the two AFL scouts were sitting.

“He’s a bit of an enigma. You know about that letter he sent to the AFL...” Isaac’s tone was more a statement than a question. “We had our head psychologist get the details...and he won’t tell us what they were. All he said is that the club would need to make some minor adjustments, but otherwise there shouldn’t be a problem. That’s enough for me.”

“Yeah, our doctor said pretty much the same thing. I’m glad I’m not the one doing the selecting on draft night. Taking him would be a gamble, given that none of the medical staff will say what exactly is wrong with him.”

There was a short pause before Isaac spoke. “I believe the AFL commission will be letting everyone know, but we’ve been in touch with Beyond Blue about Dave Islington. They said they would provide support to any club that drafts him.”

Brendan frowned. Beyond Blue was Australia’s best known mental-health organisation, established at the turn of the century as a national initiative to deal with the issue of depression and, later on, anxiety. “What sort of support are they offering?”

“Education for non-medical staff, including the players, on what is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, its effects on those who suffer from it, and how others can help sufferers of the condition.”

Brendan nodded slowly. “Sounds good, and it might make a difference, but I think they’d need to extend that to all the clubs, at least to some degree. We wouldn’t want other players commenting on the subject inappropriately.” He gave Isaac a puzzled look. “What made Hawthorn think of contacting Beyond Blue?”

Isaac snorted. “Who’s the chairman of Beyond Blue?”

Brendan thought for a moment and then blushed with embarrassment. “Jeff Kennett.”

Isaac nodded. “Former Victorian Premier and ex-president of the Hawthorn Football Club. We had a quiet word with him, and he said he’d look into what they could do for us. When he got back to us, I understand he said he’d be letting the AFL know and asking them to pass the information on to all the clubs.”

“Fair enough. I’m still curious about the details of what’s going on with Islington, but I don’t suppose I’ll ever be told.”

Isaac was quiet for a moment. “I’m not.”

“You’re not what?”

“Not curious. I really don’t want to know what happened to him.” When Brendan stared at him with a perplexed expression, Isaac grimaced. “My guesses are bad enough. I don’t want them confirmed.”

Brendan scowled. “You can’t leave me hanging like that. Come on, tell me what you think.”

Isaac screwed up his face and then sighed. “Do you remember the report the other week about that junior-football coach who was arrested for molesting kids?”

“Yeah, but what has that...” Brendan’s eyes widened. “Are you saying...?”

Isaac grimaced. “I’m not saying anything, but I happened to review Islington’s file soon afterwards. He played at the same junior-football club where that bastard coached.” Isaac gave another heavy sigh. “I don’t need to know what happened. I don’t want to know. Let’s drop the subject and leave the poor guy with some smidgen of privacy.”

Brendan stared for a couple of seconds and then nodded his agreement.

* * *

It was five minutes into the first quarter before anyone scored. Neil winced because it was a goal to Box Hill. Alex Woodward, the VFL’s J.J. Liston Trophy winner for best-and-fairest player, had kicked the football from sixty metres out. It hadn’t made the distance, but the Leopard defenders had been drawn away from the area in front of the goal posts by the Box Hill forwards and the football had bounced between the middle posts for six points to the Hawks.

“Damn!” Peter scowled. “I want that to be the last goal Woodward kicks. Runner!”

Neil stepped forward.

“I want Dad sweeping on defence. Tell Ward to push forward to help Jarrod and Dave cover the middle of the ground and to stop Woodward from doing that to us again. Go!”

Neil jogged across the ground to where Jim was waiting for the play to restart. Jim gave him a quizzical look.

“Peter wants you sweeping in defence. He wasn’t happy about that goal.”

Jim nodded and gave Neil a half-smile. “None of us were. We should’ve gotten to the ball before it bounced through.” Jim glanced across to the middle of the ground where there umpires were preparing to restart play. “Thanks, Neil.” Jim ran off without waiting for a reply.

Neil headed down the ground after Jim, glancing back to make sure the play wasn’t heading in his direction. He stayed close enough to the boundary line that he could run out of bounds if needed. Neil smiled when he saw the football heading the other way, with the Leopards in attack. He brought his attention back to his job, located Ward, and then jogged over to the defender to pass on the rest of Peter’s instructions. Ward headed up the ground while Jim positioned himself to act as an unassigned defender, helping out wherever needed.

Before Neil could return to the Leopards bench, the crowd roared. He glanced towards the Leopards’ forward line and then grinned as he saw players congratulating Roger, while the goal umpire signalled a goal. It hadn’t taken the Leopards long to equalise.

As Neil returned to his place behind the coaches, he glanced at the interchange bench. The middle seat was empty apart from Ty’s jumper that had been carefully draped over the back. Neil had been told by Peter to place it there as a constant reminder to the other players and to put the top on at the end of each quarter. He would have to take it off when the siren sounded to signal the start of a new quarter, but during each break Neil would be in the middle of the players, representing not only the missing vice-captain, but also the supporters and staff that were all hoping for a Leopards victory.

* * *

Ty wasn’t comfortable. He had been told to lie down while inside the hyperbaric chamber, but he was up on one elbow so he could better hear the radio.

COMMENTATOR: ...McEvoy looks down the ground but can’t see anyone free. He kicks long to where Lowden and Underwood are waiting. Both go up for the mark, but Underwood spoils Lowden, and Henderson dives on the loose ball...

Karen shook her head. “I’m used to thinking of the guys by their given names. I can’t work out who is who, or what’s going on.”

Ty chuckled, while keeping half his attention on the radio broadcast. “I’m the same to some extent. I know the guys’ surnames, but for most of them I don’t recognise them immediately when they say it. Underwood is Todd, and Henderson you should remember is Dad. Any surnames I don’t know have to be a Box Hill player.” He shrugged. “There’s a few of their players I recognise straight away, like Woodward, the guy who won the best-and-fairest, and McEvoy, their ruckman. Both of them are Hawthorn players who are playing for Box Hill.”

Karen frowned. “I know that Hawthorn has this week off in the AFL finals, so what’s to stop Box Hill from bringing in a whole bunch of AFL players to win the VFL finals? I wouldn’t think that would be fair.”

“There are rules in place to stop exactly that. They have to have played a minimum of six games in the VFL during the season before they’re allowed to play in the finals.” Ty grimaced. “Of course, that’s the theory. Ben McEvoy only played four games, but–” he continued in a more sarcastic tone, “–he’s allowed to play, anyway.”

“Why is that?”

Ty rolled his eyes. “The General Manager of the VFL can determine someone is eligible to play regardless of the qualifying requirements. That’s rule 20.8, from what I overheard at the club. He decided that Ben McEvoy could play for Box Hill. We objected. Our objection was dismissed by an independent appeals board, so he’s allowed to play.” Ty shrugged. “What can we do about it? I don’t understand why they have rules if they’re going to do things like this. McEvoy isn’t exactly a minor AFL player even if he’s not at the peak of his game. To be fair, the VFL decided that Box Hill could play only one player that didn’t otherwise meet the requirements – I think they were asking for two or three – so it wasn’t open slather, but still...”

Karen stared for a moment and then chuckled. “You know what I think? The main reason you’re so upset is because you don’t get to play against him. If you were out there today, you wouldn’t be bothered.”

Ty was quiet for a moment and then grinned. “You’re probably right. It’s not fair that he can play and I can’t, and that’s really all it comes down to. If I could play, I wouldn’t mind him playing, too.”

COMMENTATOR: ...and there goes the siren for the end of the first quarter. The scores are tied with four goals and two behinds each. If this keeps up, the game is going to go down to the wire.

Ty grimaced. “If there’s one thing I hate more than anything else, it’s listening to a match and not being able to do anything to help the guys win. It’s going to be a real painful two hours being stuck inside this thing,” he said, waving a hand at the enclosing chamber.

Karen sighed and glanced at the clock. “And on that note, sorry, but I have to go. I was told I could get to work late since I was bringing you here, but I don’t want it to be too late.” She chuckled. “And I can’t even give you a proper kiss goodbye.” She blew him a kiss. “I’ll ring you after you’re finished here to confirm if my boss has approved moving next Sunday’s shift to Saturday. If you’re playing in the grand final, I’m going to be there to watch, even if I have to take a day off.”

* * *

Liam was fidgeting in his seat. “Come on, guys. Another goal...that’s all I’m asking.”

Clarissa snorted. “I think they’ll need more than one.” She glanced up at the scoreboard. “Neither team’s been more than a goal in front all game.”

“Yeah, but if the Leopards kick one now, that won’t be true anymore. They’re up by one point; a goal would give them a little breathing space. That may be all they need.”

Helena, who was sitting on the other side of Clarissa from Liam, shook her head. “They just need to keep going. I think this game will go to whichever team cracks first, and we probably won’t know that until the last quarter. It’s not even halftime; there’s plenty of play still to come.”

Liam scowled “Fuck!” Dave had been tackled hard, allowing Box Hill to grab control of the football and kick it back into attack. “We need this one, guys. Don’t let them score!” Liam leapt to his feet as the ball sailed deep into the Box Hill forward line, only to have Jim run backwards into the waiting pack and take a strong mark in defence. “Yes!”

Clarissa grabbed Liam’s arm and pulled him down. “I can’t see if you keep jumping up like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Just stay seated so I can enjoy the game, too.”

A couple of minutes later, Liam was on his feet again, as a long kick headed to where Roger was waiting on the forward line. Liam’s hands flew to his head in frustration as this time it was a Box Hill defender who stopped the Leopard attack with a well-timed spoil followed by a quick soccer kick to a teammate. “No!”

“Sit down!” Clarissa glared up at Liam.

Helena chuckled. “You’re better off standing, too. I know the type: he’s going to be bouncing up and down throughout the game.” She returned her attention to the players on the oval. “Not that I blame him. It’s a good, tough match.”

* * *

Peter scowled at the assembled players. Neil, wearing Ty’s spare jumper, was sitting between Jim and Todd in the change room as the team listened to their coach’s halftime instructions.

“We need to be more consistent! Every minute of the game counts. We lost concentration for five minutes and Box Hill kicked two goals in that time. We’ve fought back, but we should be using that fight to get further in front, not to merely regain the lead.”

The players took the admonishment in a stoic way, but Neil winced. The Leopards were a mere one point in front at the main break: seven goals and four behinds to Box Hill’s seven and three.

A faint smile appeared on Peter’s face. “This is going to be a war of attrition. Our defence is generally solid, but so is theirs. We need to make the most of any mistakes they make, and we have to make sure we don’t make any on our side.”

Peter moved over to Zach and Jai. “Zach, you’re working your heart out, but we’re not winning enough of the ruck duels.” Zach flinched, but Peter smiled. “Don’t worry; we’re going to do what we’ve done a few times in the past. Rather than trying to win the ruck, we’re going to concentrate on making sure they don’t win it, either. That will let Jarrod, Euan, and Charlie use their speed to get in there and get the loose ball. Jai, I want you taking over the ruck duties, and Zach you’re moving down to the forward line. That will give us three targets to aim at: you, Roger, and Deon.”

Zach’s initial frown transformed into a smile. “That’s going to make life hard for the Hawks.”

“Exactly!” Peter turned to Jai. “Concentrate on spoiling and giving our faster players the chance to get in there and grab it ahead of the other team.

“Jarrod, Charlie, get out there and run. I’ll be switching Euan in for each of you in turn, so you’ll get breaks. I want Box Hill worried about how fast you guys are.”

Peter spent the rest of the break giving specific instructions to groups of players. Neil listened carefully, not because he needed to know, but because he was impressed at the level of detail that Peter was able to keep track of.

Once Peter was finished, Neil ran out with Roger, still wearing Ty’s top as he’d done at the start of the game. It was only when all the players were out and starting to get ready for the second half of the game that he took off the jumper to drape it over the back of one of the interchange seats.

Neil watch anxiously as the umpires started the third quarter. As Peter had instructed, Jai acted more to spoil the ruckwork of the Box Hill ruckman, and Jarrod dived in to pick up the loose ball. A quick snap sent the football across the ground to where Dave was sprinting forward. The ball fell short, but the bounce brought it into Dave’s hands as if they were magnetised. Dave was tackled immediately, but he was still able to handball the football to Charlie. Charlie spun around and snapped a kick to Oliver just outside the fifty metre arc. Oliver didn’t wait, but kicked it on to where Roger was tussling with one of the Box Hill defenders.

The attempted mark was spoiled by the defence, but Deon was close enough to pick up the loose ball and snap a goal with his left foot just before he was brought down in a strong tackle.

Neil’s smile at the early goal by the Leopards didn’t last long. Box Hill answered with a goal of their own three minutes later. The game was still tight.

* * *

Ty kept one eye on the clock while listening to the radio. It wouldn’t be long before his two-hour session in the hyperbaric chamber was over.

COMMENTATOR: ...Henderson handballs to Green who sends it right back again as Henderson runs past. A short stab pass to the half-forward flank finds Bellesconi. Bellesconi plays on and runs past his man. He kicks long and finds McDowell who juggles the ball once before securing the mark. This should be an easy goal for the Leopards captain.

“Nice kick, Ollie. You can do it now, Roger. Another goal will really put the pressure on the Hawks.”

Amit, the nurse, looked up from his desk. “How’s the game going?”

“There’s about ten minutes to go, and we’re two points up. If he kicks this one, it’ll mean that Box Hill will need two goals to regain the lead.” Ty waited a moment and then grinned as the radio commentator confirmed another goal to the Leopards. “Yes!”

“It sounds like the game will end soon after your treatment is finished. You’ve got eight more minutes before we get you out of there.” Amit’s forehead was wrinkled. “I haven’t been paying a lot of attention, but hasn’t your team already kicked a few goals this quarter?”

“They have, but we were down a goal at three-quarter time. The guys have made up for that, but it’ll only take a couple of quick goals for Box Hill to regain the lead.” Ty shifted his body to rest the muscles that were getting sore from his poor posture and then flinched as he twisted his sore knee for a moment. He then raised himself back up onto an elbow so he could hear the radio clearly. He didn’t want to miss a single second of the action.

Ty smiled as the radio broadcast reported that the Leopards had swung back into attack immediately after the centre bounce. It had taken almost all the game, but the Leopards were winning the ruck duels.

COMMENTATOR: ...Islington kicks long. Bradshaw is waiting just past the top of the goal square, along with Kennedy and Cheney. They all go up, but Kennedy flies the highest and...oh, my God! Kennedy took the mark, but he’s now on the ground clutching his knee. Box Hill didn’t need that as Kennedy has had a sterling game in defence. Trainers are approaching, but Ayden Kennedy isn’t getting up. It looks like there’s going to be a delay.

Ty winced. While it was good news for the Leopards, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Box Hill defender who had just suffered what sounded like a game-ending knee injury.

* * *

Peter smiled at the celebrating players and supporters that were crowded into the change room. They had won by ten points and would be playing against Footscray in the grand final the following week. It was going to be a tough week mentally as the pressure of playing finals football increased to a fever pitch. It had been a long time since Lilydale had played in a grand final, and Peter expected the supporters to be coming out in droves.

Julie had a slight frown on her face as she approached. “Peter?”

“Something wrong?”

“No, but I’ve had a text from the brat. He said to congratulate everyone, but he also wanted to know about Ayden Kennedy’s knee.”

Peter grimaced. “Tell him that it doesn’t look good. He’s done a ligament, but the medical staff don’t know how bad yet.” When Julie raised a quizzical eyebrow, Peter nodded in the direction of the teams’ physiotherapists. “Jackie’s already made enquiries. You know how she is: she always wants to help. She headed over to see if they needed any assistance when Ayden was stretchered off the ground.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Peter watched for a couple of minutes longer and then whistled loudly. The noise in the room didn’t end, but it reduced enough to allow Peter to address those present.

“Guys, everyone, the brat sends his congratulations.” Peter waited for the resulting cheer to die down, but most people appeared to take that statement as an excuse to resume their festivities.

Peter whistled again. This time the noise level dropped further as most people realised that Peter had more to say. “Next Sunday, we play Footscray at Etihad Stadium in the city. Enjoy the rest of the night, but tomorrow night we’re back training again, so don’t overdo things. It was a great win, but this wasn’t the important game. That’s next week.”

“And we’re going to win that one, too!” Zach called out.

Peter chuckled as the sounds of celebrations prevented anyone from hearing anything else he had to say. After a minute, the smile on his face started to fade away. His mind was already preparing for the biggest match of his and his players’ careers. It would be his last game as the Leopards coach, a fact that the players still didn’t know. Peter wanted to end his VFL coaching career on a high, but there was still a lot of work to be done if that was to occur. Grand finals were never easy, and Peter’s experience in preparing for them was thin.

The pressure was on for both him and the team.