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Chapter 6
I sat in the Suns’ physio waiting room for Carlo—the head physio—to summon me. My work commitment to report at the Saints’ game for The Sports Daily meant I couldn’t go and watch my Suns play, which was sort of a relief. I knew that was selfish and unsupportive of my team, but it was painfully hard to sit on the sideline when I wanted to be amongst it. Especially when it was an injury that forced me to step out for the rest of the season and not my choice. Even though I had said I was looking at retirement, I hadn’t made it official. The team was still hoping I would be able to play again before the end of season and Coach, my physio and I were pretty confident I’d at least be able to play in the last game before the final series began. That would be my swansong – management wanted to see me off in style and I knew our marketing manager, Maria, thought plugging it as my last game would help ticket sales. I was hoping I could play in it too; Carlo sounded positive.
I rose and gave him a smile as he waved me into his physio room.
“Before you ask, yes, maybe,” he said, with a grin.
I gave him a smirk, and dropped my handbag on the chair while he closed the door. I sat on the table; we knew the routine ... he’d manipulate, massage and work the muscles in my leg for half an hour and I’d groan with the pain.
“I was going to say ‘hello’ before I asked,” I said.
Carlo grinned. He was nuggetty and a good head shorter than me, which wasn’t uncommon. He had muscles on his muscles and the biggest hands – probably why he had chosen to be a physio. He began working on my injured leg, especially around the knee area.
“You’re moving better,” he said. “I watched you when you walked in. If you strapped your knee and didn’t play the whole game, I’m pretty confident we can get you on the basketball court for one last game ... maybe the end of season game.”
“Fantastic,” I said, combining a smile and a grimace. Carlo was brilliant but tough. “So when do you think I can let the coach know?” I pushed him.
I waited while he pondered the question, drawing it out ... killing me.
“Well,” he said, “about now probably.”
“Really?” I squealed in delight.
“But only if you don’t do anything stupid before then, or I’ll be calling your coach personally and pulling you from the match,” he threatened. “Stick to the gym, no running, no sneaking in for a friendly basketball game, no wrestling any of the Saints.”
I twisted around to look at him.
“What do you mean?”
He smiled a sneaky sort of smile. “I heard you were going to the Ball with that big guy from The Saints, the one they call The Russian.”
“Wow,” I said, turning back around and trying not to sound so pathetically excited. “News travels fast. Who told you that?”
“Aimee was in here this morning,” he said. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”
“Not at all. I can always count on Aimee to spread the news though ... she’s a walking news bulletin.”
We made a bit of small talk for the rest of the session and then I was ‘released’.
“Thank you Carlo, you’re a magician,” I said, putting my weight on my leg, feeling it getting better and better each time.
“I look forward to seeing you two all over social media the day after the Ball,” Carlo said, and flicked me with the back of the towel.
“You’ll be there, won’t you?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Carlo confirmed. “You’re good to go and remember ...”
“No wrestling Russians,” I grinned.
I left the physio office and called Coach. I knew this day would come – when I had to face my last game, but most of us tried not to think about it. She answered on the second ring.
“Carla, how are you darling?” she asked.
“Good Coach, and you?”
“Fine. You’ve been with Carlo?” There wasn’t much she missed.
“Just left his office. If you can use me and if you want me to play, I can play the final game before the finals series,” I said, holding my breath. We were both assuming the Suns would make the finals.
