Clem cupped her hands together in front of her face, puffed a couple of warm breaths onto her chilled fingers. She’d spent some time planning tonight’s training session, coming up with a theme and downloading targeted exercises from her favourite coaching sites. She’d also practised how she would deliver the news.
The last of the players were coming out of the sheds, forming a loose cluster in front of her, jostling each other and laughing.
‘Come on, hurry up, before we all freeze,’ she yelled.
Her stomach tensed. She needed to keep this short, get training started before the boys could start feeling sorry for themselves.
‘Okay. We’ve got the Eels on Saturday, and we know they’re going to be tough. Physical as ever around the mids and a well-organised defensive zone at the kick-ins. We can match them physically, but the key to breaking through that zone is the second phase after Devo’s kick in—that’s what the focus is tonight.’
She had directed their thoughts to the game. Now to slip in the bad news.
‘Before we get started, I’ve got something to tell you—Clancy won’t be seeing out the season. Needs to be with his family.’
Stunned looks. An indignant murmuring.
‘What the fuck? We’re that close to finals!’ said the captain, Sellingham.
‘We all have to make hard choices sometimes. Clancy’s got a baby coming. There’s nothing more important than that.’
‘Oh, come on, Jonesy, he’s our best player! Surely his wife can look after herself?’
What could she say? She’d felt exactly the same. ‘Look, I don’t like it any more than you do, but you have to respect a man’s decisions, right. None of us really knows the situation Clance is in. You think it’s been easy for him?’ A few heads dropped. ‘No, that’s right, it would have been bloody agonising. The guy loves his footy.’
A muttering from the back of the group, she just caught the end of it, something like drinking goon with the rest of ’em.
‘Hey! Cut that shit out,’ she snapped, her eyes flashing darkly across the huddle. ‘Next man to make a stupid comment like that’s doing five extra laps around the oval.’ She let the words sink in for a second before resuming. ‘Now, I’m bringing Richie Jones up from the reserves.’ Richie grinned, the blokes around him slapping his back. ‘And Maggot, you’re going into the midfield to take Clancy’s place. We’ll talk about roles in a bit more detail later. Now, off you go, two laps, light jog, and back here for stretches.’
A few of the more enthusiastic in the group set off, the rest following. There was none of the usual chatter and a heaviness in the thunder of their boots as they jogged across the ground. When they’d completed their laps she kept them moving briskly through the stretches and then straight into a series of sprints followed by a complex kicking drill. Keeping their minds focused on the now and away from what lay ahead on the weekend was the only way she could think to help them through.
As soon as she’d left training that evening the encounter with Melissa flooded back, the syllables hammering inside her head, ‘What-biz-ness-you-got-here-in-Kat-ing-a?’
She’d been unhurt in the accident but everything was on edge, her jaw clamped and neck muscles wound tight, a thumping headache the result. Now, driving up the winding stretch of Makepeace Road through the state forest, she felt a tight little knot of anger forming at the top of her neck. Clancy quits on some false pretext and Melissa accuses her of white bias. It was all so ridiculous.
The thick-forested slopes loomed overhead as she swung the Commodore around the familiar corners. The half-hour drive from town was a pleasant buffer between civilisation and seclusion, and she particularly loved this stretch of dense bush—bracken and white-flowering tea-tree crowding together in the elbow of each bend, jostling for light, stately gums towering above. But tonight, she just couldn’t enjoy it.
She pulled up at the front of the cottage and looked out over the valley, still seated in the car. The full moon cast a beautiful creamy light over the paddocks, and Pocket barked his impatient welcome from the backyard. She felt resentful.
Damn Clancy Kennedy. Damn the whole bloody thing.