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I flushed bright pink from the praise.
Encouraged, I listened intently to him.
Rugby seemed to be his life and I wanted to learn all about it. Every teeny, tiny, insignificant detail. It was pathetic on all levels, but I consoled myself by telling myself that it was a harmless way of passing the time.
Johnny continued to talk, trying to teach me the rules of the game and the roles of each individual player, not to mention different plays and formations. To be honest, there was a huge amount of information to take in and much of it went clean over my head, but when he began to explain about the role of a center, I listened intently.
“So, on a team, you have two centers—the inside center and the outside center. Playing center means my job is about breaking down the opposition’s defensive line,” he explained. “We also have to keep our own defensive line, read the opposition’s play, anticipate the direction of the ball, know when to make a defensive attack, and know when to not.”
“That sounds incredibly complicated,” I admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed and awestruck.
“It’s not an easy position to be responsible for,” Johnny agreed. “Everyone talks about the fly half, but the two centers are paramount to play. I guess you can say they are the midfield of a rugby team.”
“But you said you were a back.”
“I am a back.”
“But you just said you were a midfield.”
“I am.”
“How?”
“Jesus, please stop asking questions and hear me out.” Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered several swear words under his breath. “I’m explaining this the best I can, Shannon.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “Don’t get mad at me over it.”
“I’m not getting mad at you. I’m trying to—” Johnny stopped short and inhaled a deep breath before trying again. “Aside from the nine and ten, who tend to control the play, speed, and direction of the game, the centers are the playmakers,” he explained, tone gentler now. “We protect the fly half, watch out for the scrum half, take a battering from the opposition’s forwards, who are a lot fucking bigger than us. We’re smaller, faster, and nimbler than the forwards. We have to be in order to play fast ball and link with and assist other members of our team.”
“But—” I held my hand up and waited for him to give me the go-ahead before continuing. “I’ve seen you play. You’re the biggest guy on the team.”
Johnny shook his head, lips twitching. “That’s school rugby. Most of the guys in the school leagues play for fun. In professional, competitive rugby, I’m not the biggest guy.”
“But you’re huge!” I exclaimed.
“I’m tall,” he corrected before quickly continuing. “Speed is vital to a center. I need to be agile on my feet and accelerate the fuck out of it when opportunity arrives.”
I thought Johnny was massive, but what did I know?
Apparently, not much.
“Hold and defend—that’s my job as thirteen,” he said. “Hold the line and defend it. Competing on the ground or overturning a ruck. That’s on me, too,” he added. “Twelve and thirteen play close to each other.”
“Who’s your twelve on the school team?”
Johnny inclined his head toward the group of boys. “Patrick Feely.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “And you guys are good friends, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, he’s a good buddy. I’m constantly watching Feely and vice versa. If he has the ball, I need to be on his ass, ready to take the pass off and capitalize by linking up with one of the wings.”
“The wings?”
“Eleven and fourteen,” he explained.
I nodded. “Okay, eleven and fourteen are the wings.”
“Exactly. Now, there’s a trust needed between your two centers—twelve and thirteen,” he explained. “You need to have complete fucking faith in each other, know your partner like the back of your hand, read his plays, his body language… Hell, you need to read his thoughts at times.”
