Page 5 of Fever Dream
“Where to?” I ask, falling in behind my new, interesting physiotherapist.
“I want to see what you can do,” Harrison says, shooting a bright smile at me over his shoulder. Kind of makes me want to do just that, show this new guy exactly what I can do.
He leads me out to the large indoor test zone which is basically a half-sized AFL field with one set of goals on astroturf. Harrison heads straight to the equipment room and comes back out with an Aussie rules oval shaped football and a round soccer ball.
“Ah, not sure if you’re aware but this is Australian rules here, mate,” I grin. “That round ball stuff is too basic.”
“That’s cute,” he grins back at me, throwing the soccer ball right at my stomach. “Billions would disagree with you but still, cute.” Gah, he has a great accent. So posh.
“Alright, what do you want me to do with this,” I return, deciding to play along.
“What’s your pain level right now?” he asks instead.
I shrug an inelegant shoulder. “Three.”
“And is that good?”
“Well, put it this way. It runs at a solid seven during the on-season, and nine after a game,” I admit. “The Fever’s been taking it easy on me over pre-season.”
“Okay,” Harrison replies with a nod. I like that I see no pity in his eyes, no concern or worry either. Just a determination that matches the one inside me to see this through to the other side.
But then he starts running me through my paces, interchanging the soccer ball with the oval football and I begin to see the merit in Harrison’s method. The two different ball shapes require completely different handling skills which stretch muscles I hadn’t even been aware of. After every activity Harrison asks for my pain level until I get the hang of what he is looking for and which types of movements make things worse for me.
We end up moving the balls to the side and Harrison takes me through a range of stretches, watching me so closely I almost start to feel self-conscious. But he checks in with me so constantly that he soon has me at ease.
“So what do you think?” I ask after we finish up, pretending a nonchalance I do not feel. “Reckon you can fix me up? Make me good as new?”
“Well, Casey, I’m going to give it my absolute best shot,” Harrison replies in a tone that makes me stop and pause. There is something about that accent of his, a very posh version of an English accent, that has me holding in a smile. “I have a program in mind that is going to give you your best chance at full recovery. The rest will be up to you and for that I need your complete dedication and willingness to sit out when I say so. From what I’ve seen, that might be the biggest challenge for you. So, what do you think? You going to play along with me?”
“Tell me what I need to do, and I will do it,” I tell him with the absolute sincerity I feel. A slow smile crosses Harrison’s face, and I am not sure whether to be impressed or scared. It is rather a pretty smile though, has those cute dimples out on display again.
“Well then, Casey Calloway. Listen in because what I’m about to say is going to become your immediate future. For the next week I’m going to break you all the way down. We’re going to treat your adductor like an absolute princess and build up all the muscles around it, so it becomes second nature for them to pitch in and alleviate some of the work. We’ll be concentrating on specific training to target certain muscle groups and none of that includes kicking an oval shaped football for the next fortnight. Only after then will we start to build you back from the ground up,” he tells me, still with that grin firmly planted in place.
“Gee, do you have to look so gleeful about the breaking down part?” I mutter.
“I hate to say it but it’s my favourite part,” Harrison chuckles. “Watching grown men weep is its own special flavour of happiness.”
“Actually, on second thoughts, I think I might take my chances with the injury,” I laugh, sharing a grin with Harrison.
“Just you wait, Casey Calloway,” he replies, folding his arms over his chest. He isn’t as built as me, no surprises there given he is not an elite athlete, but he still has a nice curve to his biceps that draw the eye, telling me he takes care of his body. “I’m going to have you begging for mercy by the end of the week. But I promise you in return you’ll be thanking me by the end of the season.”
“Well, we’ll see about the begging, but I promise if you fix me, I will be in your debt for life,” I tell him, holding his eye to make sure he knows I am all in for this. Whatever it takes I am willing to give.
And I have a feeling Harrison Thornfield is the perfect man for the job.
CHAPTER 3
harrison
Turns out Mick Brabham was right on the money about Casey Calloway’s dedication to his career. The guy is a dream come true for a team sport like football. For starters, he doesn’t buy into the hype surrounding himself which I have to give him credit for because there is a lot of hype. I hadn’t realised how big of a name Casey is in the AFL world, but he is right up there at the top of the tree.
The other thing he brings to the table is a passion for the sport and a commitment to be the best player he can be day in day out. I could not have asked for a better client to earn my transition into the world of Australian football.
Growing my immunity to said client’s charms is still a work in progress, mostly because my initial attempts at exposure therapy are proving futile. Because Casey is fun. He’s cheeky and cute and he pushes back just as hard as I give. Honestly, spending time with him is just a joy.
But it is not exactly conducive to getting him out of my head where he spends a considerable amount of time. And I can’t entirely blame it on injury management or treatment related thoughts either.
No. I certainly cannot blame it on that.
