Page 44 of After the Siren

Chapter Twenty-Two

Everyone had bad games. That was footy. It happened.

You picked yourself up, you did whatever you needed to do to vent, and then you got the fuck over it.

But Jake didn’t like bad games, and two in a row felt like getting kicked when he was down.

It was also a shitty time to be having bad games; the middle of the ladder was tight, and while the Falcons were on track to make the eight, it wasn’t a sure thing.

They were playing the Sharks in the kind of weather that turned the ball into a heavy leather weight made to break fingers.

It had stopped raining midway through the first quarter, but the ground was soaked and everyone was sliding and fumbling.

The game had been scrappy and the score was tight.

A few missed calls both ways – one that had left Yelks with a split eyebrow. Tempers were running high.

Jake didn’t like the Sharks. He hadn’t ever liked them, and he particularly didn’t like them with Jamie Collins in their midfield. He hadn’t been sad to see Collins traded from the Falcons, and he knew Collins was itching to mash him into the mud.

At least Stavs was playing well. It was like watching a totally different player. Maybe he wanted to stick it to his old team, or maybe he was just better than Jake at keeping shit compartmentalised.

Or maybe he didn’t have much to compartmentalise.

It had occurred to Jake – belatedly, as usual – that when he told Stavs he’d want more if they weren’t teammates, Stavs hadn’t said the same thing.

And Stavs seemed fine. He was friendly, and it wasn’t weird.

It made Jake want to drown himself in the ice bath.

Not that he should be thinking about any of that during a game.

The ball had been stuck in the Falcons’ D50 for what felt like eternity, stoppage after stoppage.

Tenders finally managed to extract it – a thumping kick down the wing – and Jake started to move.

The ball went over Stavs’ head but he chased it down and took possession through sheer bloody-mindedness.

A shepherd from Raze sent his direct opponent flying and then Stavs tried to get it in low, a spearing kick towards Tommy, but a Sharks defender punched it free and Tommy ended up at the bottom of a pile of players.

The umpire blew the whistle and Tommy was slow to get up. Jake moved closer, circling, his opponent hard on his heels.

There was a scuffle between a Sharks player and Paddy – Paddy had taken exception to Tommy being held down on the ground – but the umpire balled it up anyway.

When Sheds won the tap, Jake was already on the move. This was what he did. He reached for the ball, knowing exactly where he’d need to put the kick.

Everything went black.

Theo saw the hit as though it happened in slow motion. Jake had his head over the ball, bending to pick it up, when Jamie Collins came in hard from the side. Theo saw the moment when Collins stopped looking at the ball and looked at Jake instead.

Collins’ shoulder caught the side of Jake’s head and sent him flying. Theo knew Jake was unconscious even before he hit the ground like a ragdoll. The whistle shrilled. Jake didn’t move.

The crowd roared its fury, and Theo could almost feel the rage of the Falcons supporters burning up his throat.

He didn’t even realise he’d moved until he had a hand wrapped in Collins’ jumper.

Collins was grinning. He had a couple of inches and about twenty kilos on Theo, and he grabbed Theo right back.

‘What’s wrong?’ Collins was smirking. ‘He your boyfriend?’

‘Why, you jealous?’

Someone hit them hard from the side and Theo staggered, but he kept his hand in the front of Collins’ jumper.

Raze was shoving in between them, trying to push them apart, or maybe trying to shake Theo off so he could go at Collins himself, but all Theo could see was Jake’s body hitting the ground and the smug little smirk on this fucker’s face.

Another Sharks player grabbed Raze’s jumper and hauled him away, leaving Theo and Collins alone.

Theo could see other players piling in around them.

‘Fucking pussy,’ Collins spat. ‘You think everyone doesn’t know that he’s a fa—’

Theo tried to punch him in the face. Tried, because someone grabbed his arm before he could really take a swing. Paddy’s voice was in his ear, but all he could see was Collins’ red, furious face.

‘Takes one to know one,’ Theo snarled.

Collins slammed an elbow into his stomach and, fuck , that hurt.

Theo struggled to break Paddy’s grip, but there were more hands on him and on Collins.

Theo wasn’t sure how he ended up on the ground, or who was on top of him.

Something bony got him hard in the nose and then there was blood in his mouth as well.

He got a knee up, jammed it into something soft.

There was a grunt of pain, so he did it again.

Then, suddenly, there was nothing on top of him. He rolled over onto his hands and knees, blinking tears out of his eyes and spitting out a mouthful of blood. There was blood dripping from his nose as well. He hoped it wasn’t broken. It felt like it might be.

A hand appeared in his peripheral vision and he grabbed it. Tenders hauled him up and gave him a pat on the back. Raze was holding two Sharks players back with no apparent effort, and a couple of Sharks players were restraining Collins. One of them gave Theo a rueful shrug.

Xen had obviously pulled Paddy out of the scrum, Yelks was shoving players away from one another and Tenders looked like he’d deck the next person to make a wrong move.

But Jake was still on the ground, so the umpires hadn’t been able to ball it up to distract everyone.

Theo took a step towards Collins without thinking.

‘Stavsy.’ Xen grabbed him by the shoulders and got in his face. He pressed their foreheads together. ‘Stavsy, get your shit together.’

Theo opened his mouth and blood spilled out over his chin.

‘Jesus,’ Xen said. He pulled off his jumper and handed it to Theo. ‘You’re bleeding like a motherfucker.’

‘My nose,’ Theo explained, pressing the jumper against his face.

The Sharks captain had a hand on Collins’ shoulder and was talking to him. He and Yelks exchanged a look that radiated comradely exasperation. Like two dads whose kids had been fighting in the playground.

There were trainers on either side of Jake, and Paddy had knelt down beside them. He was holding Jake’s forearm, talking to him.

Theo removed the jumper from his face. ‘Is he okay?’

Xen tugged Theo gently in the direction of the bench. ‘They’re checking him out. Come on, Stavs. We need to get you a towel and work out if you’re alright.’

The trainer with Jake had signalled for the stretcher, and now two of the medical staff were jogging towards Jake with a spine board. Theo froze and stumbled against Xen.

‘They always bring it out as a precaution if someone’s knocked out,’ Xen told him. ‘He’s probably fine. I saw the hit. It was nasty, but he’ll be okay.’

A trainer ran out to meet Theo with a bag of ice and a towel. She tossed Xen’s bloody jumper aside and forced Theo to sit down on the bench. He tried to see past her towards Jake.

‘We’ll get the doc onto you once he’s done with Cunningham,’ the trainer said, peering into his face. ‘It doesn’t look displaced. You might be lucky.’

The big screen showed a replay of the melee – of course – and Theo experienced the truly strange sensation of knowing it was him on the screen and yet not recognising himself at all. There was a low hum of anxiety in the back of his brain, buzzing behind the worried nausea. Jake had been so still .

The crowd murmured and Theo looked up at the screen again. Jake was conscious, and Theo felt the relief like somebody had cut his strings. Jake gave the crowd a thumbs up and there was a roar of approval. Xen sighed, long and shaky.

It took a while to get a neck brace onto Jake and then to get him onto the transport vehicle. Yelks and Paddy stayed close, and the Sharks captain lingered at a respectful distance. The rest of the players had retreated to their respective huddles.

The Falcons supporters were on their feet as soon as the transport started moving, and the huddle broke apart so that everyone could jog over to escort Jake off the field.

Theo was cornered by the doctor before he could get across to see Jake, and he submitted reluctantly to having his nose poked at.

‘Not broken,’ the doctor told him, cheerfully, as Theo tried to hold still. ‘So you’re the second lucky one today.’

‘Jake’s okay?’

‘He won’t enjoy the concussion, but he’ll mend. Now, I’m going to tape up your nose so you can go back on. Try not to get hit in the face again.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

With Jake out for the game, they couldn’t sub Theo off, so he was just going to have to cope with the nose. Inevitably, every Sharks player would try to clobber him in the same spot again. He pulled off his bloody jumper and accepted a replacement. Fuck them.

After that, Theo played one of the best halves of football of his life.

It was as though his rage and then his relief had seared everything else away.

He managed a filthy goal from the pocket when two Sharks players collided, then slotted an absolute beauty from outside the arc.

It came off his boot perfectly, sailed through the goal as the crowd screamed their approval.

He felt absolutely nothing.

It was after midnight by the time Theo parked Jake’s car in the sharehouse driveway.

They’d won the game, but it wasn’t the kind of win anyone felt that good about.

Jake was obviously feeling terrible. He hadn’t even given Theo any shit about his driving.

He sat slumped in the passenger seat, his eyes closed.