Page 5 of The Prospect

Gary Wilkinson—our team captain, or as we call him “Wilks,” likes to say we’re “frenemies.” I don’t disagree. Hart and I sure like to heckle one another, but at the end of the day, when you’ve been on a team with someone for as long as we have, you naturally become friends.

We’ve made memories.

We’ve had good times.

We’ve had bad times.

We’re basically just an old married couple by now.

“That’s enough, you two!” It’s Wilks who always manages to be the first one to intervene; our marriage counselor, if you will. “Fight another time, okay? I’ve got plans tonight and I don’t want to be late!”

“I second that.” Coach walks out onto the field with Alf, his assistant, by his side. “So quit your arguing and finish up the drill, alright?” He blows into his in-famous whistle. “I wanna get home.”

Hart rolls his eyes and drops the ball to the ground. “Try not to bitch this time,” he remarks, re-positioning himself back over to the starting point of the drill in anticipation of Coach’s signal.

I think the real reason why Hart and I are always at each other’s throats is because we’re the only two left in what was once our dynamic four-piece who are single, irritable and deep down, a little disappointed we don't have someone we have “plans” with or “wanna get home” to.

Coach has been with his girlfriend—Delaney Matthews, for almost two years now. They’re disgustingly happy. The dream team that keeps Crawfield Football Club up and running. Not only can’t they keep their hands off one another, but the result of that action now joins us on the sideline of each game. Their son Matty is downright adorable. It’s actually frustrating that they made such a cute kid.

Why?

Because he gives you baby fever every time you look at him. I’m only twenty-four, nowhere near ready to be a dad myself, but still, he makes me question my own judgment.

And Wilks? Well, my long-time bachelor best friend has finally found the one in Chelsie Windsor. They’ve been together for about six months now—in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, but I have a feeling it’s never going to pass. They’re smitten. Absolutely smitten.

I once told Wilks he was “smothered in love.” It’s true. The guy could suffocate in all that is Chelsie and would die a happy man.

I mean, anyone would. Isn’t that all anyone would ever want? To die in the arms of the one person they love…their true love.

Okay, I’m getting far too sappy now.

Back to Hart.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that by process of elimination, the two of us are stuck together. Think about it this way. It’s like when you have a friend and they invite their friend to go out with you who’s not your friend,butyou have to get along with them because you share a mutual friend.But when that mutual friend leaves, i.e., Coach and Wilks, you’re kind of like, “What now?”

That’s my life.

This “what now?” stage and it fucking sucks.

I’m secure in my role on Crawfield, I have been for many years now. This is my second home. The place where I feel like I belong. Playing football has always been an outlet for me. It’s allowed me to grow into the man I am today, learn valuable life lessons about life and support the people around me.

Christ, now I sound like my father.

I need to stop.

“Alright, from the top.” Coach blows his whistle once more. “Make this good and we’ll call practice for the night.”

*Phwwwwwhht*

The whistle goes off and straight away, the team jumps into the play. The objective here is for Hart to get the ball to Wilks, that way, he can work his magic and laser in on the net.

The only con, it leaves me to try and defend.

Wilks is an absolute weapon on the field, and without blowing too much steam up his arse, the reality is, not one of us has his technique, footwork and how did Hart put it?Finesse.

Therefore, as much as both myself and the rest of my defensive line attempt to steer Wilks away from his target, he seamlessly dribbles around each one of us and sends an absolute powerhouse of a shot on net.

It goes in.Of course, and immediately, he and Hart rejoice in cheerful annoyance.

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