thinking about this letter. I was hoping that I could push thoughts of her to the side, but after all, she posted it back to me without any note, without any message.
It ’ s late and our whole living room is filled with boxes. I tell Jhonny that he can make use of a lot of the stuff if he wants.
When I finally go to bed later after smoking some pot, my head is pounding. I fall asleep still wondering if she has actually read my letter. I guess I won ’ t know until she forgives me, and that might take a really long time.
We have a large audience during the training session on Thursday. There are also a lot more girls than usual. A few of them are cheering for me when the game starts. The rumours died down slightly this week, so I wonder what the hell is going on. I get a lot of looks that tell me they wouldn ’ t mind being in my bed after the game. I shake my head, trying to play the best I can.
Once the training is over, in the changing room our coach gives us one of his lectures before a very important match. On Saturday we are playing against Birmingham University. It ’ s the first match of the season, a really fucking important one. Coach gives us a lot of crap about teamwork before he switches to strategy and the actual game. I can barely concentrate on what is going on around me. After we leave the stadium, guys are talking, getting excited about the upcoming match, but I feel like shit. After the training we go out for a quick beer and then it ’ s bedtime.
Saturday, I wake up with an uneasy sensation in my stomach while it ’ s still dark outside. After failing to fall asleep again, I waste some time online. My stomach heaves and I feel like I ’ m going to throw up. I don ’ t get sick, especially not before a match. I ’ m a machine. Somehow after swallowing a few tablets, I feel all right.
Jacob slams through my door at exactly eight in the morning.
“ Ready to kick those bastards ’ asses? ”
“ Hell, yeah, but I need my energy drink first, ” I tell him. He gets the message and drags himself downstairs. I can expect everyone at the stadium today. India is going to be cheering for Evans, no questions asked.
When we finally leave the house, my legs feel like bricks. I can ’ t put my finger on what ’ s wrong, but something is niggling at me. In the changing room the atmosphere is good; the boys are pumped up and jokes about our opponents are flying every few minutes. Normally I ’ m never nervous before the game. I love rugby, so I don ’ t get what is wrong with me. Maybe it has something to do with fact that India is going to watch the entire match and support some other guy.
Our coach pushes us with his patronising speech a few minutes before we go out there. Rugby is supposed to be my distraction from what is going on in my head.
“ Right, ladies, get the fuck out there and make Braxton proud! ” I roar as captain.
There are some other roars, someone pats me at on the back, and we are out. The noise that spreads over the entire stadium is fucking awesome. Blood pumps with excitement through my ears. I was fucking right, the crowd is cheering and the stadium is full.
Our opponents are looking grim and when the show begins, I forget about all the distractions and concentrate on the game. My team is in excellent shape, and once we have the ball, our attack is smashing their defence. The crowd is fucking loud while a large player from the opposite team crushes me down few times. I see stars, but once I get the ball, no one can stop me. Russell is good too at scoring a few points when he has some free kicks. The first half is ours. We are taking over the field, smashing our opponents like little insects.
We are pumped when we walk back to the changing room. My lungs are burning like hell. Jacob ’ s forehead is bleeding, but he doesn ’ t even let anyone look at him, he is so pumped.
My jaw feels like shit, but I put some ice on it and try to rest. A few minutes
It ’ s late and our whole living room is filled with boxes. I tell Jhonny that he can make use of a lot of the stuff if he wants.
When I finally go to bed later after smoking some pot, my head is pounding. I fall asleep still wondering if she has actually read my letter. I guess I won ’ t know until she forgives me, and that might take a really long time.
We have a large audience during the training session on Thursday. There are also a lot more girls than usual. A few of them are cheering for me when the game starts. The rumours died down slightly this week, so I wonder what the hell is going on. I get a lot of looks that tell me they wouldn ’ t mind being in my bed after the game. I shake my head, trying to play the best I can.
Once the training is over, in the changing room our coach gives us one of his lectures before a very important match. On Saturday we are playing against Birmingham University. It ’ s the first match of the season, a really fucking important one. Coach gives us a lot of crap about teamwork before he switches to strategy and the actual game. I can barely concentrate on what is going on around me. After we leave the stadium, guys are talking, getting excited about the upcoming match, but I feel like shit. After the training we go out for a quick beer and then it ’ s bedtime.
Saturday, I wake up with an uneasy sensation in my stomach while it ’ s still dark outside. After failing to fall asleep again, I waste some time online. My stomach heaves and I feel like I ’ m going to throw up. I don ’ t get sick, especially not before a match. I ’ m a machine. Somehow after swallowing a few tablets, I feel all right.
Jacob slams through my door at exactly eight in the morning.
“ Ready to kick those bastards ’ asses? ”
“ Hell, yeah, but I need my energy drink first, ” I tell him. He gets the message and drags himself downstairs. I can expect everyone at the stadium today. India is going to be cheering for Evans, no questions asked.
When we finally leave the house, my legs feel like bricks. I can ’ t put my finger on what ’ s wrong, but something is niggling at me. In the changing room the atmosphere is good; the boys are pumped up and jokes about our opponents are flying every few minutes. Normally I ’ m never nervous before the game. I love rugby, so I don ’ t get what is wrong with me. Maybe it has something to do with fact that India is going to watch the entire match and support some other guy.
Our coach pushes us with his patronising speech a few minutes before we go out there. Rugby is supposed to be my distraction from what is going on in my head.
“ Right, ladies, get the fuck out there and make Braxton proud! ” I roar as captain.
There are some other roars, someone pats me at on the back, and we are out. The noise that spreads over the entire stadium is fucking awesome. Blood pumps with excitement through my ears. I was fucking right, the crowd is cheering and the stadium is full.
Our opponents are looking grim and when the show begins, I forget about all the distractions and concentrate on the game. My team is in excellent shape, and once we have the ball, our attack is smashing their defence. The crowd is fucking loud while a large player from the opposite team crushes me down few times. I see stars, but once I get the ball, no one can stop me. Russell is good too at scoring a few points when he has some free kicks. The first half is ours. We are taking over the field, smashing our opponents like little insects.
We are pumped when we walk back to the changing room. My lungs are burning like hell. Jacob ’ s forehead is bleeding, but he doesn ’ t even let anyone look at him, he is so pumped.
My jaw feels like shit, but I put some ice on it and try to rest. A few minutes
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