Summary: John plays hockey, when he's not socializing. Yes, you read that right. John.
Words: 477
For: JanetM74 - who custom requested John + hockey
The stakes were high, as the USA hadn't had a team representing them for the men's field hockey event in years. They'd sent referees and umpires for the past few summer Olympics, but this was the first year in decades they actually had a team. A team Competing. It was kind of a big deal.
"Tracy!"
"Yes, Coach, coming!" John turned back to the trio of players he'd met from the Belgian team while studying at Cambridge in England and against whom he was about to play as part of the Olympic tournament. Switching back to German, he finalized their plans and then said, "Viel Glück!"
Coach stamped his foot impatiently on the turf while the agile man that called himself their striker finished up his conversation with the opposing team, even though the idea of quiet John Tracy talking voluntarily with people intrigued him. Must be the Olympic air.
He'd never be seen in front of a camera, but among "his people" John opened up. John's forte was his family, his team, and other academics. And apparently Belgian field hockey players. He cocked an eyebrow at John as he approached, his cleats bounding across the field.
"Sorry Coach! The fellas are friends from my studies overseas." He didn't add that they were reminiscing over their favorite pub at the heart of Brussels and that the three boys were responsible for his first drink – and subsequent hangover. Whatever the outcome of today's events, the four of them had just made plans for the evening to find a quiet local tavern in the Olympic host city and recreate the night away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi and pressures of entertaining.
Hob-nobbing. Absolute worst.
A beer with his friends after a day of healthy competition would be perfect. Through his freckles, his cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment - it was 2:00 in the afternoon! It wasn't time to be thinking about celebrations quite yet. He needed to get his head back in the game.
"Just get back to the team, Tracy."
"Of course, Coach." He took a sip from his water bottle on his way back, then took the white towel from around the back of his neck and squeezed a bit more water out from his drink into it before putting the towel back in place.
Their uniform consisted of navy shorts with their numbers printed on the bottom of the left side. Their shirts were sleeveless, white, and with USA printed across the chest. The letters were filled with the pattern of the stars and stripes to represent their country.
"Abandoning us for the Europeans, John?"
"Of course not, Sam," John grinned back at their goalie. "Just practicing my German."
Sam shook his head, smiling back; he knew well John didn't need to practice. He spent half of their games cursing in every language known to man.
"Here." He tossed the redhead his stick. "It's time to go win."
