“I know a lot of you are here today expecting to hear about my international move to Ireland,” I said into the mic eyes firmly fixed on her baby blues. “But I’m not here to announce that.”
A ripple moved through the room. Teddy’s mouth dropped open as she stared at me.
“I’m here to talk about what I’m choosing.” I continued. “And what I’m not willing to leave behind.”
Her fists might’ve tightened at her side, and I wanted to soothe that anxiety with my own hands, instead I continued.
“I’ve been given opportunities. Incredible ones. Ones most players don’t get. But none of them matter if I’m building something somewhere I don’t want to be.”
She swallowed so hard it echoed in me, too.
“And I want to be here in Solterra.” My heart was in flames for the woman across the room. I may have been talking to the press, but every word was meant for her.
The quiet that followed pressed in from all sides. I wanted to tell her exactly how I felt about her right here with all these witnesses, but I also wanted the moment to be ours alone, this was the best option I could come up with.
“In the last few months,” I said, pulse soaring, “I’ve watched the Valkyries show up when things were hard, when being excellent wasn’t enough, and they were still asked to justify their presence. I’ve seen the team carry expectations no one ever bothered to question, and instead of letting them crush everything you’ve been working toward, you used them to build something stronger.”
Teddy leaned toward Micah for a second, whispering something to her, and Micah smiled and nodded.
“I’ve watched the entire team stand up for women who weren’t even in the room yet. Fight for facilities, for coverage, for resources, for respect—knowing full well that every pushback would be framed as attitude instead of advocacy.”
Her chin lifted as her eyes began to shine.
“No one ever asked to be celebrated for it. You just kept going, because someone had to.”
Memories of the last few months we’d spent together swarmed me, and I couldn’t help but smile. I wasn’t going to out our relationship today. As badly as I wanted the world to know, she deserved to have the spotlight for the reasons she wanted, not because of her personal life. But I couldn’t go this entire speech without her knowing how much she meant to me as a captain.
“So let me say it plainly, where it can’t be ignored. Teddy Sloane, you are the most inspirational captain I’ve ever met. Not because you make it look easy, but because you refuse to settle for less than your entire team deserves.”
Something passed across her face—pride, disbelief, emotion—before she smoothed it away and stood taller with a gentle nod.
“If this league is moving forward, if this sport survives and grows the way it should, it’s because of leaders like you. And I’m done pretending that supporting that is anything other than my responsibility, too.”
I angled myself slightly more toward the press now. This was a lesson everyone needed to hear today.
“So when people ask me what progress looks like in this sport, I don’t talk about facilities or funding or shared stadiums. I talk about captains like Teddy Sloane, who refuse to let excellence be optional for women while grace is demanded of them.”
The room shifted.
“And I want to be clear about something,” I said. “Supporting that isn’t a favor. It’s not a sacrifice. It’s the bare minimum. Anything less is complicity.”
I gripped the sides of the podium.
“Which brings me to my next point.” I cleared my throat, inhaling deeply. “I’ve been given the green light to turn our old Knights stadium into an all-girls rugby program with professional pathways.”
Chatter began to fold into the silence of the room, escalating quickly. I knew there would be infinite questions, but the person who deserved to ask them first was Teddy. She was all I cared about.
I could see the rise and fall of her chest and the disbelief written all over her face.
The room didn’t give either of us time to recover. Voices overlapped, chairs scraped back, shutters fired in rapid bursts. Hands shot into the air.
“Connor—Can you clarify—”
“Is this already funded?”
“What does that mean for you and Captain Sloane?”
“Is this a permanent commitment?”
