Page 5 of The Wing
I sigh and dig my boot into the grass. “Daisy doesn’t think so. Thinks I’m in my head and overthinking it all.”
“You wouldn’t be the first that’s happened to. Shit luck.” Nick slaps my back.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and avoid his eyes to focus on the rest of the team training. “Think anyone else has noticed?”
I see Nick wince out of the corner of my eye.
“If they’re good at their job, they’ve noticed.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and swallow harshly. “So everyone in NZ.” I laugh and it comes out brittle.
“Yeah, but the good thing is you have the best in the biz at your fingertips. Physios, psychologists, nutritionists. They’ll all help. Have you booked in with the psychologist yet?”
“Seeing him tomorrow.”
“Maybe it’ll help?”
I hum. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The rest of training is…fine. I’m the same throughout. Not awful, but not first fifteen material. Not like I usually am. And the longer training goes on, the more I’m aware of the issues, and of all the eyes on me. Not just the coaches, but the team as well. Everyone watches me, and my shoulders tense until I swear I can feel them by my ears, and I have to force myself to breathe and lower my shoulders to the normal position.
The session with the psychologist the next day doesn’t help. He decides I have anxiety and guides me through breathing exercises and techniques and affirmations to ignore my thoughts. How telling myself to be calm is supposed to translate into actual calmness, I don’t know or understand. Nor does it help.
I ignore the fact I’m supposed to do it until it becomes a habit and actually works.
Now it’s four days since the game, I’ve had two shit training sessions, three sessions with Daisy, one appointment with the psychologist, and I still can’t figure out why the ball goes wide more often than not, or why my arm isn’t doing what I’m telling it to.
Today’s the day the match day squad drops. The radio announces who’s starting. If you don’t get a phone call from Alex, you’re safe. But if he calls you the day the squad is announced, you’re screwed.
I drum my fingers on the kitchen bench, waiting for the kettle to boil, and stare at my phone. Begging it not to light up with a phone call. Anyone but Alex.
The kettle dings, and I pour boiling water over a herbal tea bag. I don’t know what blend it is Charlie left here, but I’m too anxious for coffee, so random tea it is. I swirl the tea bag in the water and tense when my phone vibrates. I stare at the churning water and wait to see if the vibration is a notification rather thana phone call, but it keeps buzzing. I drop the tea bag string and look at my phone.
“Fuck.” My chest tightens painfully as my heart rate accelerates. With shaking hands, I accept the call and bring it to my ear. “Hey, Alex.”
“Morning, Hemi,” he responds quietly. “I wish I had better news for you this morning.”
“But you don’t.” My hand grinds into my forehead, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“No. I’m sorry. I’ve spoken to Daisy and watched you in training, and I’m going to try Peter for the first game in South Africa to give you the week off. You need a break. You’ll come over for the second game, and we’ll see how you are.”
I blow out a slow breath. Okay, that’s not too bad. Only one game I’m not starting for. “All right. So I’m subbing for Peter and?—”
“No, Hemi,” Alex interrupts with a cautious voice, “you aren’t on the match day squad. Not this time. I want you to stay in New Zealand, relaxing. Forget about rugby for the week.”
I blink at the darkening tea. “I’m not flying over?”
“No.”
“And I’m not staying in Auckland to train?” They don’t even want me training with the rejected twelve men?
“No. We’ll see you today and then you’re off until the following Sunday. You’ll join us in South Africa, and we’ll see where you’re at. Book a holiday.”
“I don’t understand.” I bite my bottom lip. “I can’t fly over and be a water boy? I want to be there with everyone. I’ll stand on the sidelines and carry everything,” I say desperately.
“I know you do. But I think you need some time away, even if it is only a week. You’ve been fantastic throughout the season, Hemi. You’ve just got a mental block, and I want to catch it before it gets worse. A week might be all you need before youfeel like yourself again. Half the game’s mental, so I want you to spend time with friends and family,” Alex finishes firmly. “I’ll see you later today, and we can chat more if you like.”
I shake my head before I realise he can’t see it. “No. No, that’s fine. I understand. A week off and then we’ll see. Okay.” Except it’s more than a week. If he wants me off tomorrow, then it’s eleven days of no training, no seeing the team, and no South Africa.
