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“What are your plans for the day?” She looks down at her coffee cup, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.
“Besides a shower and a shave?” I scratch my beard that’s more homeless thanGQright now. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Does that mean you’re free tonight?” She glances at her cup before looking back to me again.
“Yeah.”
“We have a game at five and then a few of us are going for drinks after with the rest of our friends, you should come.”
Since working with the club, I’ve not yet attended a game, I’ve been avoiding it, but looking at Natasha’s hopeful eyes the word ‘no’ doesn’t even come into my mind.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say, and happiness radiates from her. Seeing her reaction makes it easier to ignore the niggle of anxiety the thought of attending a match after so long brings. “Do you have any pre-game rituals?” I lean on the wall next to her, cradling my warm cup in my hands and changing the subject.
“Are you sure you want to open that can of crazy?” “Come on, it can’t be that weird.”
“Okay, strap in,” she says, as if it’s a challenge. “Firstly, I set my alarm for eight. I make a coffee with one sugar, and I sit in that seat right there, she points to the one in the corner behind our connecting wall.
“What if it’s bad weather?”
“I wear layers and bring a huge golf umbrella out if there’s rain.”
“Sounds sensible. Then what?”
“If it’s a lunchtime kick off, I’ll make a high protein breakfast. Lean bacon, eggs and beans on two slices of wholemeal bread and then I’ll snack on a banana about an hour before I play. If it’s an evening kick off, I’ll have that breakfast and then for lunch I have pasta, chicken, melted cheese triangles and broccoli.”
“That sounds reasonable and also disgusting.”
She laughs at my comment and another ball of joy bursts in my chest.
“We haven’t got to the crazy part yet,” she says, and my eyebrows raise questioningly. “I have lucky socks that I must wear from my house to the football ground. I wore them on the day of my professional debut, and we had a great game. I also have to put my trainers on my left foot and then right foot before I leave the house, but when I put my boots on, it’s right foot and then left.”
“Okay, that is a little strange, I’ll give you that.”
“I put my gloves on my right hand first and then my left. Because I’m the goalkeeper, I lead the team onto the pitch, and I have to step over the white line with my right foot first. WhenI get to the goal, I tap the right post with my left foot and hand and then the left post with my right foot and hand before bending over to stretch one last time, placing both palms flat on the goal line in the middle of the posts.” She braces herself for my reaction. I’ll give her this, it is a bit weird, but Mam was the same before she played so it doesn’t surprise me.
Athletes are a breed of their own.
“What happens if you miss a step?”
“Then I’m scared we’ll lose, and it affects my confidence and performance,” she explains simply. “If you ask a sports psychologist, they’ll tell you that pre-game rituals are a placebo and they’re probably right, but it still doesn’t stop me from doing it.”
“Can I join you today?” I ask before adding, “Only if it wouldn’t mess with your rituals of course.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll get breakfast started. Come over when you’re ready,” she adds with a happy grin.
Chapter Ten
Luke
Twenty minutes later, I’ve showered and tamed my beard and am sitting at the breakfast bar in Natasha’s kitchen, watching as she cooks.
“Have you heard from Hannah lately? Is she having fun?” Natasha asks.
“I spoke to her a few days ago and it sounds like she’s living her best life. She’s never done anything like this before. She had a big break-up about six months ago so when she first told me she was going, I was concerned to say the least.”
“It’s natural to be concerned, you’re her big brother and you helped raise her. It must be tough seeing her fly the nest so to speak.”
“Yeah, it is. But I trust that she’s sensible and will make good choices. I just have to remind myself of that.”
