Page 125 of Men in Shorts

“I thought football was meant to be fun.” Colin pulled his feet back to let a trio of sweat-soaked guys pass by. “When I was a kid someone telt me, ‘if you’re not enjoying yourself, then find another hobby.’”

“Football’s not a hobby, mate. Football is life.” Duncan took a red-and-white-striped squeeze bottle from his locker, then collapsed onto the bench beside him. “Are you experiencing dysphoria?”

Colin snorted at Duncan’s psychology-student talk. “Maybe.”

“Have we not blown enough smoke up your arse about that goal at East Fife?” Duncan shook his bottle to mix the green liquid within. “You were brilliant.”

“Aye, until I wasn’t.” He fell quiet for a moment as they sipped their recovery drinks. “I remember playing for Glasgow Greens. Nowthatwas fun, being the best player on the pitch week after week. Never getting tackled too hard on purpose, never hearing the other teams’ supporters call me a faggot.”

“Never being challenged,” Duncan said, “never reaching your potential.”

“Och, you sound like Evan.”

“Thanks. Look, Evan poached you from the gay league cos he saw something special in you, and not just your fancy step-overs. If he heard you getting all nostalgic about those days, he’d go off his head. And if Charlotte heard you?—”

“She’d put me on the bench. Oh wait, I’m already there.”

“I can’t listen to this.” Duncan turned to his open locker and rummaged through his kit bag. “Here, a cure for your self-pity.” He tossed a manila envelope onto Colin’s lap.

Colin pulled out a stack of stapled papers featuring a spreadsheet with rows of dates down the side. Across the top were columns labeledDistance,Time,Average speed,Weight, and# Reps.

“My training schedule from two summers ago,” Duncan said, “when I was recovering from mono—from glandular fever.”

Colin smirked at Duncan’s habit of “accidentally” using the American term first, lest anyone forget he’d spent his gap year in San Francisco.

Duncan flipped the first sheet and pointed to the bottom of the second. “Look how long it took me to get where you are now, and I wasn’t even a wee bit stabbed in the gut.”

“Wow.” Colin went back to the first page and examined the numbers’ pattern. At the start, Duncan’s progress had been slow but steady, but later accelerated by leaps and bounds. Colin turned to the third page, where halfway through the second month, Duncan’s stamina had taken a nosedive. “What happened here?”

“Got impatient. Pushed myself too hard.” He looked up as Evan walked in, undoing the Velcro on his black weightlifting gloves. “Didn’t obey my elders.”

Colin read Duncan’s comments in the far right column:

Barely perceptible improvement.

Will I EVER get back to match fitness?

Fuck this shit.

“Is this meant to put the frighteners on me?” he asked Duncan.

“No, ya knob, it’s meant to motivate you.”

“By telling me how hard it is?”

“By telling you it’s hard for everyone. So don’t get discouraged, all right?” Duncan reached over and turned to the last page. “See where I was by the start of that season, when we first met? That’s just a month after I crashed and burned. These things take time, as The Smiths once said.”

“You listen to The Smiths now?” Colin elbowed him. “Becoming a retro gay?”

“Aye, Brodie’s influence.” Blushing slightly, Duncan tapped the papers. “Keep this copy if you want.”

As he showered, Colin thought about those training sheets. When he’d hit a fitness wall in the past, he’d simply pushed harder until he got the result he wanted. But some walls seemed made of brick or even pressure-sensitive explosive material, which meant further pushing would be fruitless, even dangerous.

It had been the same with Andrew’s panic attack, when Colin had pressed him too much at first, making things worse. Since then, they’d learned what to do the next time it happened, though Andrew loudly rejected the assumption there’dbea next time. He’d put on a brave face this last week, but Colin could see the turmoil beneath that serene surface.

Later, he found himself walking home alongside Evan after Duncan had boarded his bus to the West End.

“Charlotte wants you to start Saturday,” Evan told Colin, then put up a hand. “But before she decides, she’ll ask me if you’re fit enough.”

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