Page 42 of Scrum Heat

Finn crouches by the bench, running through formation shifts and calling subs with quiet authority. The younger guys cluster near him—they always do. He’s the one who checks on them after hits, the one who remembers birthdays, too.

They listen when Rory speaks because he’s the captain. They grin with Theo because he’s what they aspire to be. They trust Finn because he remembers who they are.

And they watch me.

Not because I talk, but because I don’t.

I pass behind Jamie and clap him on the back. Light, but enough. He nods, then settles.

Coach doesn’t miss it. He never does. He just looks at me and gives the smallest nod of approval back.

Quiet reinforcement, I think.

Coach has never pushed me to speak more. Never asked why I don’t fill the silence, never made me explain how I see the game or what I notice during drills. He just figured it out, same way I did.

By paying attention.

He knew from the start that I wasn’t here to talk, or socialize, or make friends. I was here to play rugby, here to win, here to hold the line.

That hasn’t changed.

He’s the only one outside the team who never tried to drag answers out of me, and that’s why I listen when he talks, why I give more when he’s watching.

We don’t say much. We’ve never needed to.

And we’re not in this room for comfort—we’re here to finish what we started.

*

The second half starts, and I’m locked in.

I don’t hear the crowd anymore. Don’t hear the chants, the whistles, or Theo yelling to no one in particular. I just see movement. Weight. Rhythm.

Bodies shift before they commit—you just have to watch close enough.

South Harwich changes tactics and starts sending it wide. Faster hands, quicker offloads, trying to stretch us thin.

It doesn’t work.

They keep pushing through me, over and over.

That’sthe mistake.

Because here’s the thing no one tells you:

Silence is strategy.

When you don’t talk, they think you’re not paying attention. They think you’re numb, slow, a blunt instrument. All hit, no read.

What they don’t see is that I’ve already mapped their setups and clocked their playmaker’s habits. The way number 8 leads with his right shoulder when he’s faking a pass. The slight delay in their 10’s boot when he’s going to switch direction.

And they don’t realize I’m already there before they move.

Number 8 tries it again, straight down midfield. He thinks he’s fast and we’re slow to close the gap.

He’s wrong.

I don’t yell, don’t signal—I just step in and drop him.

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