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The Russian half stood and pulled out my chair for me. So gallant.
“Ready Brooker?” he asked me all business like.
“Ready Russian,” I confirmed with a nod.
“Go get them kid,” he said, as Jenna called me up. She kept talking as I walked up to the stage; I was praying and hoping that I wouldn’t fall over or get tongue tied.
“As you know our current Best & Fairest champion Carla Brooker will be retiring at the end of the season, and we are delighted to welcome her tonight to offer the opening address and talk about the Suns and the importance of our club.”
I got a rousing welcome, the flashes went off again and I got a loud whistle.
“Thank you for that Aimee,” I said, and everyone laughed. I took a deep breath and looked out over the crowd of five-hundred strong and some media and photographers at the back of the room. It wasn’t the first time I had got up to speak, I had done it many times, but it was still scary.
“I would like to start by thanking everyone for their messages of support since my injury, it meant a lot, and a special vote of thanks to my date tonight for his support ... you may know him as The Russian.”
The Russian gave me a smile and nod—big ham, he was accustomed to being in the limelight—and he got a huge cheer and a lot more whistles.
I continued. “You know you are at a female Ball when the men get more whistles than the girls.” Everyone laughed again, I was on a roll thus far. I spoke of the season, the team, the pride in winning last year’s Best and Fairest, and thanked our sponsors and patrons present for all they did for keeping our team alive. I called on them again to help us this year. Then I introduced the coach to say a few words and waited while she came up to the stage. She was there in no time—it happens when your legs are that long—and we gave each other a hug as we passed on the stairs off the stage. The Russian rose and helped me down the stairs in my dress and high heels—so charming—and we sat and listened to the coach. She praised my efforts and contribution to the club over the years and I struggled not to cry, again. Then our M.C., Jenna, reminded everyone to bid on the silent auctions and dobbed me in again ... it felt like the Carla show, enough already!
“I’m excited to announce that the physio has given Carla the all-clear to play in our last match of the season before the finals, assuming we make the finals of course ...but let’s assume that’s a given,” Jenna said, and everyone gave me a roaring clap again. I felt tears welling in my eyes and I really didn’t want to cry, my mascara would run!
Jenna continued. “So this will be a special match, because Carla has also advised it will be her last match for the Suns and she will be retiring before the finals series.”
An audible moan rose from the crowd, which was kind of funny.
The Russian whispered in my ear. “You didn’t tell me that, congrats.”
I turned to smile at him. “Thanks ... one more game. Weird, huh?”
“For sure. But not if you’re busy and still involved in the sport, right?” he assured me.
“Right,” I nodded.
Jenna continued. “Given it is Carla’s swansong, one of the prizes in our silent auction is the ultimate home game experience – 10 VIP seats front row courtside at Carla’s last game, VIP catering before, during and after the match and an open bar of course. Plus, there are a dozen more great lots to bid on, so enjoy some dancing and bidding and we’ll be back here in thirty minutes for dessert and the auction results.”
The coach came over to my table to meet The Russian and then we had a quick chat; The Russian wasn’t short of company, everyone wanted to talk with him. When the coach left, I turned to face him and he gave me a smile that would melt any female with a pulse.
“Well done, Brooker,” he said.
“I’m so glad that’s over,” I sighed. “Dance?”
The dance floor was already full and I wanted to see The Russian’s moves.
“I’m waiting for the right song,” he said, “can’t just dance to anything.”
“Oh, of course,” I said.
“Come on,” he took my elbow and led me away from the table. “I’d better make a bid on the silent auction to help the club.”
“I think you’ve already done your bit for the club,” I teased him, “I know one Suns’ player who is pretty happy.”
“That so?” he teased and took my hand; I swear I was floating. He did this thing where he rubbed his thumb over my skin – I could barely concentrate it was so distracting.
I felt like every eye in the room was watching us, and as we arrived at the long table of auction items, The Russian put his arm around my waist and I was right up against him as we read the auction sheets.
“Got a dog?” I asked.
“My folks have ... Brodie is his name,” he said looking at the sheet I was pointing to.
