Page 12 of After the Siren
‘True,’ she said. ‘But not the answer to my question.’
‘Sorry, I might have misunderstood.’
She looked across at him, eyebrows sceptical, but didn’t call bullshit. ‘Do you feel like his coaching made you a better player?’
Theo watched the aerial acrobatics of a seagull as it circled the goal posts. He and Priya had toasted to new beginnings, but what did that mean? He was here to do a job. Kat didn’t know him and he didn’t know her; he didn’t have any way to gauge the potential cost of honesty. The trade had been her idea (she’d copped it enough in the media for him to be sure of that), soshe clearly saw something in him. Was that enough? Except, her first loyalty had to be to the team. She wasn’t his friend, or his mentor. She had no reason to cut him any slack.
They jogged on in silence and Theo knew he should answer. Kat spoke again before he’d made up his mind. ‘You know, a coach like Gary Hunt nearly made me give up footy.’
‘I can’t imagine you giving up anything.’
She laughed and nodded towards the cluster of players in the goal square. ‘Players like Cunningham and Ryan, if you give them a real tune-up and tell them “this isn’t good enough”, they’ll go out with a fire under their arse to prove you wrong. Because they think they’re the best.’
As they watched, Tommy flicked a ball up from the ground with his foot, then spun in a circle, executing some sort of roundhouse kick. The ball thumped into the netting behind the goals and Cunningham hooted with glee.
‘I wasn’t like that, though,’ Kat continued. They veered around a smattering of balls and cones spilling out of a bag on the boundary line. ‘When my coach said “this isn’t good enough”, what I heard was, “you’re not good enough”. And I guess that’s what I believed, deep down. So every time he said it, I believed it a bit more, until it was true. I wasn’t playing well. I dropped marks, made mistakes – and the more he tried to make me stand tall, the smaller I got.’
‘What happened?’ It was hard for Theo to force the words out past the lump in his throat and the tightness in his chest.
‘I quit. Threw in the towel after the first AFLW season. Went back to full-time teaching – taught Cunningham, actually.’
That startled a laugh out of Theo. ‘Model student?’
She snorted. ‘What do you think?’
They came around behind the other goals and Theo ducked a ball as it sailed between the posts.
Once they were out of the danger zone, Theo asked, ‘And then?’
‘I went away with some mates and some mates of mates. I hadn’t touched a footy for nine months. But we were just stuffing around on this country oval – taking pot shots at goal, playing nines – and I forgot about everything that had happened. I started having fun again. Took the best hanger of my life.’ She grinned. ‘One of the mates of mates was Cindy Johnson, the new Geelong coach that year. One night we all had a few beers, and I found myself talking to her about it. Spilled my guts, really. She convinced me to give it another shot at Geelong.’
‘Bet you’re glad you met her.’
‘For lots of reasons.’ She glanced across at Theo and grinned even brighter. ‘We’re married now.’
Theo winced. ‘Sorry. I should know these things, but I’ve never really followed all the footy news. Poor form, I know.’
‘Nah, to be honest I think it’s better. Easier to ignore the garbage if you’re not tuned in all the time.’
They ran another half lap in silence. Theo had always found running meditative: the thud of his footsteps, the rhythm of his own breathing. It had always helped him think. But this time it didn’t bring him any closer to making a decision. His instincts told him he could trust Kat. Hewantedto trust her. But he hadn’t talked to anyone about this, not really. Not someone who would understand the messy guts of it.
‘Let’s stretch,’ she said, slowing to a walk and then resting a hand on the boundary fence. Theo dropped into a deep lunge. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I’ll be able to coach you better if I know what’s on your mind. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that you were having a shit time. I don’t want you carrying that.’
Priya would have told him to ‘talk, goddammit’, but she’d be biased because Kat was her type.
‘I think I had a panic attack.’ He hurried the words out and almost stumbled over them. ‘When I lined up to take that shot. I don’t think I was ... in a good place.’ Saying it felt good, for a second, and then the worry ate in at the edges. He looked across at Kat, trying to read her face.
She nodded, looking thoughtful. ‘Have you had panic attacks before?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve gotten nervous but ... it was different.’
‘That must have been horrible.’ The empathy in her voice was so palpable and unexpected it almost knocked the breath out of him.
‘Yeah.’ He managed to keep his voice steady. ‘I guess ... I guess I knew it was my shot. Do or die.’
‘That’s a lot of pressure.’
‘That’s just the game, right?’
