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A hornet’s nest takes up residence in my stomach as the players line up opposite each other for the National Anthem. Oliver’s face is stoic and focused as he stares down at the ground, his lips pressed together. I squeeze Ashley’s hand when he runs out to the middle of the ground to toss the coin with the umpires and Joel, who captains the Bears. My stomach clenches as I watch the two boys shake hands. Oliver says something, and Joel smirks at him.
“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all,” Ashley mutters, but my nerves won’t let me reply.
A lot is riding on this game. With so many AFL prospects, Oliver told me there would be a few list managers for the Victorian-based clubs. I glance around to see if I can see anyone official looking with a clipboard or something, but no one stands out.
The game is close. A couple of times I have to hide my face in Ashley’s shoulder when Oliver goes in for a spoil. At half time the Lions are down by four points, but Oliver and his teammates go into the change-rooms for the break in good spirits, getting around one another, and the home crowd cheers them off.
“Your boyfriend is killing it!” Ashley grins at me. “Your boyfriend. I still can’t believe it.”
I give her a small smile, but I can’t relax. It will kill him if they don’t win today. Especially against Joel.
“Oh my God.” Ashley grabs my arm so hard it hurts. “Look who’s here.” She points through the crowd to where Sarah’s standing with Caley and Tiana.
I groan and try to pull her arm down before they spot us, but it’s too late. Tiana gives a small wave, bringing Sarah’s attention to us. Surprisingly, she only shoots us a dirty look before stalking off in the opposite direction.
“You don’t suppose she already knows about you and Oli, do you?” Ashley raises her eyebrows.
“I doubt it. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.” Shrugging, I glance down at my watch. We still have ten minutes before the second half starts. “Come on, let’s go get some food. I’m starving.”
Once we’re armed with a hot dog and a bucket of chips and gravy from the canteen, Ashley and I snag a seat near the Joey’s interchange bench as the under nineteens run back out onto the field. We cheer loudly, and Oliver spots me, flashing a wide grin that sends warmth through my body despite the chilly autumn morning.
The score remains close for the third quarter, with the momentum swinging the Lion’s way by eight points. Ashley and I follow the crowd onto the ground, huddling around the players as we listen to the coach’s speech.
“It’s ANZAC day, boys. A day when we celebrate comradery and fighting in the trenches with your brothers. Bridgeport aren’t going to go away. We need to play forward half footy. Possession is key. We need to have numbers around every contest, make sure you are first to the ball. Take it cleanly, and don’t let it past the middle of the ground.”
He makes some changes to the board the assistant coach is holding up. “We’re going to push Macca up forward to give us an extra tall target, but it’s going to put a bit of pressure on the midfield to push back quickly if they get a turnover. We’ll keep the rotations up to get fresh legs on, but you’re all gonna have to dig deep to hang on to this game. Boys down back: if your players choose to push up past the centre, let ‘em go. Just hang out the back to force the ball back down our forward half. They’re fatiguing, we just need to keep making them work and making them work, and that’s when you’ll get your reward. Go out there and get it done, boys.”
My heart is in my throat as Ashley and I walk back to the boundary line with the crowd. The stakes are high for Oliver in more ways than one. With one minute to go, the Lions are only up by four points. If the Bears kicks a goal, it’s game over. The ball spills out of the middle and a Bears player shrugs off Macca’s tackle. He kicks the ball down field, towards their goal. I suck in a deep breath. It will kill Oliver if they lose the game in the last minute.
The crowd goes crazy. Oliver–at full back–is one-on-one with Joel, wrestling for position. Everyone knows this is the future of the AFL. The clock ticks down as the ball seems to hang in the air. Ashley’s fingernails dig into my arm as we cling to each other. One wrong move and the game will be lost. Oliver can’t afford to give away a free kick in the dying seconds. Fist raised, he gets his arm up in front of Joel’s outstretched hands. The ball hits his fist before falling to the ground as the siren sounds. Squealing, Ashley and I jump up and down, celebrating. My voice is hoarse.
The smile drops from my face though as I watch Joel rush at Oliver, tackling him around the middle; the force of his body knocking Oliver clear off his feet. A roar rips through the crowd and I gasp, bringing my hands up to cover my mouth as his head bounces on the hard ground. Joel scrambles to his feet, staring down at Oliver on the ground, not moving. Joel’s shoulders slump, and he drops his head into his hands.
31
Players rush in, pushing and shoving one another, but my eyes are glued to Oliver’s motionless form, still lying on the ground. He still hasn’t moved. The umpire’s whistles blow, and the coaches from both teams run onto the field to break up the players from both teams who have started fighting. Macca has his fist wrapped up in the front of Joel’s football jumper and is screaming in his face. One of Joel’s teammates is trying to shove Macca off him. My body shakes, and I cling to Ashley as the Lion’s trainers run over to Oliver. I let out a sob that is drowned out by the applause of the crowd as they help Oliver sit up. He clutches at his right shoulder, his face contorted in pain, but I’m so relieved to see he’s conscious. It’s been the longest three minutes of my life.
As he gets to his feet, Oliver stumbles slightly, grimacing as the club trainer tries to steady him but accidentally knocks his shoulder. The trainer is asking him questions. He points at the stretcher lying on the ground next to them. Oliver shakes his head slightly and winces. I squeeze Ashley’s hand tight. She rubs my back, trying to comfort me. The trainers and club doctor are helping Oliver walk off the field and as they get closer, I can see Oliver’s eyes are unfocused. He’s stumbling like he’s drunk. The crowd claps as he comes off the ground, but all I feel are the rocks in the pit of my stomach.
Ashley pulls me around to the change-rooms, where we’re forced to wait outside the door. Jake comes running over, fear in his eyes. Placing his hand on my arm, he asks, “How is he?”
I shake my head with a sniff. “I don’t know, Jake. They won’t let me in to see him, and no one has told me anything.”
“Wait here, I’ll find out.” He walks into the change-rooms, and I slump against the wall.
“He’ll be okay, Han.” Ashley’s voice is reassuring as she rubs her hand up and down my arm. “Oli’s tough.”
I nod and I want to believe her, but the sight of the ambulance pulling up brings tears stinging the corner of my eyes. I need to see for myself that he’s okay.
It feels like hours before the doors to the change-rooms open, although only twenty minutes have passed. Jake makes his way over to me.
“He has a concussion and a suspected broken collarbone,” he says. “They’re taking him to hospital now. I’m going to go with him. Ash, can you get Hannah to the hospital? They’ll only let family go with him. Mum’s going to meet us there.”
“I’ve got my dad’s car,” I say weakly.
“You can’t drive, Han.” Ashley wraps her arm around me. “I’ll call your parents. They can come pick up the car. And I’m sure Macca won’t mind giving us a lift to the hospital.”
“Thanks.”
