Page 11 of The Hellion and the Captain
He would see how this final practice went today, he decided.
From there, he would make his decision.
It seemed there was more than one man’s fate he would determine today.
Rhys stood to the side of the field, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the players before him.
Those who had played together for the past year, if not longer, moved seamlessly. Colin and Tommy rushed up one side of the field, passing the ball between one another as though they had been born knowing how to do so, with an innate sense of where the other would be at all times.
Almost all of them were paired up, but with Hardy standing in the goal and Rhys to the side, one was excluded.
Williams.
Of course.
The right winger had avoided the rest of them as best he could since he had first started practicing with them. Perhaps that was what most bothered Rhys. Even if Williams was skilled, if he couldn’t truly be part of the team, would this work?
Rhys couldn’t, however, deny the man’s talent. Williams was currently dribbling around invisible impediments on the ground, the ball seeming one with his feet, his silhouette backdropped by the dusky sky behind him. His movements werealmost feminine, in a sense, but perhaps that was just the grace with which he moved.
There was the endurance factor, however. If only Rhys could determine whether that would ever come.
Suddenly, he realized how he was going to test it.
He might not be able to judge how Williams’ stamina would unfold, but then, there was only one way to increase running condition – hard work. He could certainly determine if the man had any of that in him.
He placed his thumb and ring finger of one hand on opposite sides of his mouth, letting out a hearty whistle that the players all recognized, and they began a slow run toward him.
“Hurry up, let’s go!” he called out impatiently, and soon enough, they all circled around him.
“Took you long enough,” he grumbled. “Now, listen up. We’ve had some good practices, but we must decide on the final roster to prepare for our first game against the Athletics.”
Muttering sounded through the players at that.
“I don’t want to play them again so soon any more than the rest of you do, but they’re in the same city. We can’t help but play them more than any other. I, for one, would rather be the better team from the start.”
He received a great deal of agreement to that.
“Today is going to be different than most early practices,” he said, trying not to smile, for he knew none of them would enjoy this. None but him. He loved this shit. “I don’t want to work on plays yet, and you’ve practiced passing and shooting enough that if you miss the goalposts now, you should go home to your sofa.”
“Is this not football?” Felix asked, and Rhys shot a warning glare his way, but didn’t bother responding. He didn’t need his leadership questioned right now.
“You all know the hill rise at the end of the field?”
Most of them nodded, although some stared at himstoically, as though if they refused to acknowledge it, he would forget it was there.
“You’re going to run across the field and up the rise. I’ll have weighted leather balls on top. Pass them back and forth to a teammate five times each. Then back down the hill. Stop at the goalpost, where you will hold your body in a squat position for a minute before returning to the start.”
Most of them were looking at him with eyes so wide, it was a wonder they didn’t fall right out of their heads.
“Then what?” Mickey asked.
“Then you do it again.”
“How many times?” asked Tommy, scratching the side of his head as though he was trying to figure a way out of this.
“Until I tell you to stop.”
“Rhys!” Tommy protested. Of course.
