T
he widescreen TV played the Footy Show where the expert panel of ex-players commented on the week’s past games and the upcoming weekend events. Watching from their matching reclining chairs, were Sam and Nick. Their team-mate, Mills, habitually chewed his fingernails in Ward’s chair, while Ward lay in a sea of cushions on the lounge room floor.
‘Coach.’ The men sang in unison as Mitchell walked through the open front door.
‘How are you, Ward?’ Mitchell asked, staring down at Ward.
‘Great, Coach.’ Ward got off the floor easier and quicker as the day progressed. Even though Zara had told him to take it slow, he was ready to run.
Mitchell stepped back, wiped a palm over his mouth as he eyeballed the standing Ward. ‘No neck brace?’
‘Only if I need it.’
‘No pain?’
‘Nope.’
‘Heard it was some horse doctor? The physio told me you’d had some miraculous recovery, and the boys said the same this morning at training.’
‘Sorry Coach, I know it wasn’t Club approved, but my sister and mum forced me to—’
Mitchell held up his hand to silence Ward. ‘What did she do?’
‘Reiki.’ Ward shrugged with a grin. ‘Don’t ask me the details, all I know it’s this massage thing.’
‘That puts Ward to sleep every time,’ said Sam, with Nick making snoring sounds from their chairs.
‘At least you’re getting sleep.’ With hands on hips, Mitchell squinted as he scanned over Ward’s physique. ‘The Physio reckons they don’t need to do any more house visits.’
‘Is that a good thing, Coach?’
‘He reckons you’re well on the way to recovery.’ Mitchell stroked his chin and asked, ‘So, what’s this, ah, horsewoman—’
‘Her name is Zara, Coach.’ Ward had already copped the banter from the boys telling him they’ll get him a saddle, with Mills neighing like a horse while riding the broom. Today he could laugh with them. Yesterday he would’ve punched them for that crap.
‘Zara who?’ Mitchell asked.
‘Um, just Zara?’ Ward was known by his surname, and he only had the surname of the surgeon willing to cut him up. How stupid was he to not know Zara’s full name?
Mitchell crossed arms over his chest. ‘So, what is this Zara’s recommendation for a recovery plan?’
‘Zara’s coming back tomorrow, I’ll ask her then.’
‘You’ve got the specialist’s appointment on Monday, right?’
‘Yep. But I’m not having surgery. There’s no need for it when I’m pain-free with full movement back. Swear it, Coach.’
‘I’d rather wait for the specialist’s professional opinion. As much as I’d love to put you back out there, I won’t risk it if your body’s not ready. Do you understand?’
‘Sure, Coach.’ Nope, Ward was going to tell that specialist to cancel any surgery.
‘Good.’ Mitchell shooed Mills off the recliner, took a seat as he asked Ward, ‘What did this Zara do? And how did you get onto her? Does this woman have any formal qualifications? Where’s her practice?’
Ward felt like a replaying podcast having explained it to the physio, then to the boys, then to Mills, and now the coach—who needed to be convinced most of all—because Mitchell was God in Ward’s world. ‘Zara’s qualified, she did her training overseas and is known as a Reiki Master. She’s trained for humans but prefers to treat racehorses at the racetrack. And before you say anything, it worked.’
‘I see.’ Mitchell raised his eyebrows like it was nonsense.
‘Ward doesn’t need surgery, Coach,’ said Mills as his heel tapped between fingernail bites.
Mitchell’s frown deepened. ‘Are you a Neurosurgeon too, Mills?’
‘No, Coach,’ mumbled Mills, slinking back into the massive man-couch.
‘Coach, I didn’t believe in this crap either, and the only reason this was allowed to happen was my mum and sister blindsided me. But I’m living proof it worked. I had all this achy tingling sensation in my fingers and toes when I fell asleep last night. Then, when I woke up this morning it was gone.’
‘How are the muscles?’
‘Bit stiff. The physio’s given me stretching exercises that help, and I’m well on my way to recovery.’
‘Can’t deny what I’m seeing, but…’
‘Coach, Reiki’s on the net, we checked it out this afternoon.’ Ward still felt guilty for ever thinking bad of Zara.
Nick stopped rocking his chair and leaned toward Mitchell, to explain. ‘Reiki’s been around forever. It’s a common practice to aide horses with their recovery for racing.’
‘Hey Coach,’ said Sam, with a hand in the air. ‘We all checked out the many testimonies about this stuff.’
‘I asked the physio about it, and he said it’s a great form of massage, if you can find a decent practitioner.’ And Ward had found her, with mismatched socks and butterscotch hair.
‘You know,’ Mills said while pausing from his usual nail-chewing, ‘ we’re talking big bickies for those donkeys to run around in circles, so she must be alright to work regularly down the racetrack.’
‘All right.’ Mitchell flung up from his seat and stood in front of Ward. ‘I’ve seen enough, but I’m still not entirely sure about this stuff either. We’re playing away and won’t be back until Sunday, so rest-up, then come and see me after your specialist’s appointment on Monday. Until then, please, don’t do anything silly.’
Damn it. Ward hated being left behind while the team flew out for Saturday night’s game. ‘Yes, Coach.’
‘Nick, make sure Ward attends and doesn’t kill Sheldon at the hospital.’
‘Yes, Coach,’ replied Nick, mid-chair rock.
‘Have a good weekend, Ward. I’ll catch the rest of you at the airport.’ Mitchell gave the men a nod and headed for the front door with Ward following him outside.
‘Thanks for checking up on me, Coach.’ Ward waved, delighted he had full arm movement, until Mitchell’s car was out of sight. He closed the door, locked it so his sister couldn’t barge in and resumed his position on the carpet. ‘Coach thinks it’s crap.’
‘Hey, I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it for myself,’ said Mills, raking fingers through his black mullet.
Ward sank into his nest of cushions on the floor and admitted, ‘I didn’t believe in any of this stuff either, until—oh no, I’m gonna be stuck home alone this weekend.’ Ward groaned, hiding his face in his palms.
‘Sucker. Can’t run and hide when Tina knows. Look out, mung-bean stew,’ teased Nick, and they all gagged at the thought.