Chapter Six

Dani Rojas was seated on Alex's exam table. The young man was practically vibrating with excitement. Alex found his positivity and eagerness intoxicating. She only hoped that Roy wouldn't eat him alive. Or worse, Jamie Tartt.

"I think we could do with taping you up for training today and see how you feel once you've finished. If you're feeling good this week, I think we could go without, given you continue with the exercises we talked about."

"Si, of course," Dani smiled and looked down at the knee he and Alex had spent a good portion of his morning discussing. He had worked diligently at the exercises she had walked him through, clearly committed to whatever it took to get back out on the pitch again.

"Good... Let's get you taped up and we can get you out there with the rest of the team, yeah?" Dani nodded enthusiastically at her as she reached for the kinesiology tape. She rolled her chair over in front of the exam table and took a seat, holding Dani's foot in stable in her lap. He watched as she started to tape up his knee, creating supports.

"Thank you very much." Alex smiled at his warm politeness. The energy he exuded was that of a very grateful puppy.

"Of course," Alex nodded. She placed the remaining pieces in silence, smoothing each piece into its exact place. "Alright. There you are. Let's get you out there."

Dani leapt from the table excitedly and followed Alex out of her office and down the hall towards the pitch.

As Alex followed behind Dani, she began to hear him mutter under his breath, tapping his toes rhythmically on the concrete floor. As they got closer and closer to the pitch, his volume started to increase as well as his energy.

"Na na na na, Dani Rojas! Dani Rojas! Dani Rojas!" Dani took off past the coaches standing on the sidelines and into the field. He galloped in a circle like a show pony and darted over toward Lasso, Beard, and Nate.

"Hello, Coaches!" He reached out and shook each of their hands with enthusiasm, "thank you for the opportunity."

"You are a spirited fella, Dani," Ted observed. Alex chuckled. Dani may be the only one whose sunny optimism rivaled that of Richmond's head coach. "Go on out there and get the striker spot for us, okay?"

"Yes!" Dani's feet had not stopped moving. "Just like back in Guadalajara. You say it, I do it, Coach! Football is life!" Dani took off to greet his new teammates. Most of which greeted him with confused smiles at the very least.

"How's he looking, Alex?" Ted asked.

"Should be good to go. He knows what he needs to do to keep himself stable for the season." Alex watched as Dani continued to slap hands with his teammates, "and he's certainly excited to do it."

"I like him," Nate spoke in awe.

"Jamie doesn't." Beard responded, as Jamie winced away from two very enthusiastic high fives.

"What's he doing over there?" Alex asked. Despite Jamie being sidelined for the end of the last match, she wasn't expecting him to take a spot there during training.

"Injured," Nate scoffed. The tone he offered let Alex know that the injury was nothing Alex needed to worry herself with. Only his ego had been bruised.

Taking off down the pitch, Dani began to show off his skills. He swiftly and artfully dodged his opponents, racing down the pitch toward the goal. He crossed over to Sam as he switched past defense, making his way toward the goal. Sam passed back to him, Dani high kicked the ball directly into the corner of the goal, scoring. The entire team was quick to react, everyone circling around Dani. Sam took him up into his arms to celebrate. The only one left staring was Jamie, who looked as if he had a gut full of spoiled milk.

Rebecca was leaned over the tabloid on her desk, her head in her hands. The pit that had settled in her stomach after her conversation with Keeley only seemed to multiply as time passed. All of her phone calls had gone to voicemail, her email inbox glared a double digit number she hadn't the energy to even pay mind to.

In the months since her separation from Rupert, she had found herself exhausted, run down, and infuriated. If it wasn't Rupert, it was his young and beautiful arm candy, if it wasn't the girlfriend, it was the media, and even if they all had let her be, her own thoughts were enough to keep her up at night, staring at the ceiling as if it had a single answer to her problems. No matter what schemes she cooked up, it seemed Rupert was always going to come out looking like a prince while she was considered nothing more than "Old Rebecca."

She had not heard Alex come in, but she nearly leapt from her seat when she cleared her throat. Apologizing profusely, Alex offered to leave her, recognizing something in her face that Rebecca worked hard to avoid anyone catching onto.

"No, no, sit." Rebecca gestured hospitably at the seats before her desk. The smile on her face felt like it was made of paper mache, tight and ill-fitting.

"Are you sure?" Rebecca found herself annoyed that she had been caught with her guard down.

"Please. I asked you to come," she assured her politely.

"Thanks," she sat down in the chair in front of her. Rebecca envied her youth. The minimal lines on her face, the tightness of the skin on her neck and hands. Rebecca looked down at her own, frustratedly flexing her knuckles as she recognized the fingers of her mother. "You wanted to see me?" Alex spoke up, causing Rebecca to realize that an unsettling silence had lingered a bit too long between them.

"Sorry. Yes," she sat up straighter, clearing her throat as if it would also clear her mind. "I wanted to pick your brain a bit about some of the players of the team and get some of your observations."

"Oh. Sure," Alex sat back in her chair. Rebecca's eyes wandered over the room while she collected herself. She stretched her neck to relieve some tension.

"What are your feelings about Jamie Tartt's recent 'injury?'" Rebecca took off her glasses and looked at Alex knowingly.

Alex smiled and began to share both the clinical observations she had about Jamie's injuries, and the impact she had recognized his behavior having on the team. As she spoke, Rebecca nodded, barely following her narrative as her eyes began to lose focus, her mind following suit. She was unsure how many minutes had passed before Alex was speaking more pointedly at her, "are you alright?"

"Oh. I'm so sorry," she pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh. "It's just this bullshit article in the Sun…"

Alex smiled sympathetically. She had seen the article after running into Keeley in the halls downstairs. It was clear that what Rebecca had learned was getting to her far more than she would have expected. For a woman that exuded confidence, it was surprising to see through the cracks in her well-maintained facade.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Alex asked gently.

"I don't want to bother you with trivial things…"

"I don't think it's trivial. It's sensationalist and sexist, but definitely not trivial," Alex reassured.

That acknowledgement alone was enough for the flood gates to open. Rebecca found herself acknowledging things out loud she had not even thought of. Alex nodded along, offering empathetic responses occasionally, but mostly allowing the woman the opportunity to expel the frustration at the tabloids, her manipulative monster of an ex-husband, his newly established arm candy, and even herself.

"Ugh," Rebecca groaned, holding her head in her hands with a sigh. "Thank you so much for listening to me ramble on and on like an idiot. I cannot imagine how unprofessional and unhinged I look."

"You don't look either!" Alex assured, "please. We've all been through tough breakups, but it's not every day you have to watch your ex move on in the public eye. I couldn't do it. I think it would take a village to keep me from committing murder."

Rebecca laughed, "thank you."

"I appreciate you trusting me with all of this. I know you are a private person."

"Thank you for being trustworthy. I don't get to have girl-talk often at my current post," she gestured toward the pitch. "You and Keeley have been so helpful."

"Anytime. We've got to stick together."

On her way down toward her office, Alex ran into Leslie, who looked quite flustered as he made his way up the stairs with purpose etched in his face.

"Everything alright?"

"Yes. Yes!" The dawn of realization crept over him, "just looking for you. Could I have a moment?"

Alex smiled, "quite popular today." She spoke to herself and then to Leslie, "of course!"

"Great! So, Ted had this great idea…"

Everyone was crowded in the locker room. With the lights dim and everyone huddled close together, the room was barely recognizable. Alex took her place next to Ted near the door way.

"Gentlemen, I am by nature a believer. Ghosts, spirit guides, aliens, still, I cannot actually tell you what lives beyond our world and what doesn't," Ted began. "But I can tell you, with the exception of the wit and wisdom of Calvin and Hobbes, not much lasts forever." At that moment, Rebecca entered the room from behind . Ted acknowledges her with a nod, "Hey, boss. Glad you could join us."

Rebecca nodded back, "Hello, yeah." Alex was surprised that she had made it down for something like this. It seemed like something the very professional woman may excuse as trivial or superstitious.

"Roy, why don't you get things started for us," Ted invited, stepping back to fall in line with the rest of the team.

Roy stepped forward with a blanket in his hands, not quite making eye contact with anyone. "Ummm…I was nine, when I got scouted by Sunderland and I'd never left London before. My granddad drove me all the way there, and it was freezing and I was terrified." There was a murmur among the team, elbows were thrown, some chuckles were heard. "I was fucking nine, say something," Roy challenged and the room fell silent. "When I got there, he gave me this blanket. He said it was to keep me warm and to remind me of home. And that was the last time I saw him. 'Cause he passed away by the time I got home for Christmas." He let out a deep sigh. "That is why, uh, blankie means so much to me…"

"Did you just say 'blankie?'" Isaac questioned.

"No, I said blanket." Roy threw it into the barrel with none of the sentiment he had held it with just seconds before."Conversation over. Sam, go."

Sam stepped up with a picture frame in his hands, "this is a picture of the 1994 Nigerian team. I pledged I wouldn't take this down until I made the team myself…and I still intend to do that." With his killer Obisanya smile, he stepped back and received a clap on the shoulder of support from his teammates.

Richard stepped forward with a bottle, "this sand is from a beach in St. Barts. This is the first beach here I ever…" his voice began to break, "where I ever slept with a supermodel."

Colin rested a comforting hand on his shoulder and coaxed him back from the barrel, "smile because it happened."

'Thanks," Richard said emotionally, dropping the now emptied bottle into the barrel.

"Sam and Richard coming from both ends of the spectrum I appreciate that," Ted acknowledged.

"A girl once said I looked like Clive Owen in these sunglasses." Nate began, holding them gently in his hands. He looked back at the team doubtfully, " I don't think I can do that."

Together, everyone encouraged him, which gave him what he needed to drop them in.

Rebecca folded a tabloid in her fingers as she stepped up.

"Is that today's paper?" Ted questioned.

Rebecca threw the paper into the barrel in response, "There's something in there about me as usual. And I'm trying not to care." She steeled herself as she spoke, "fuck the haters."

The room swelled with encouragement. Alex took Rebecca's cue and stepped forward.
"Uh…" Alex started with a tight-lipped smile. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small piece of paper. The folds were raised and worn, years of handling had faded the ink, frayed the edges, ghosts of fingerprints smeared and smudged its surface. She smoothed it to no avail as she cleared her throat, "I was twelve when my dad died. He and my mum had a really nasty divorce. He traveled a lot so any time I got to spend with him always felt like the most important days of my life. He and I really bonded over music. Even when I was small, he would let me stay up late and listen to his records. He drank whiskey, neat. I had tea." Roy shifted from one foot to the other.

"Anyway, for my twelfth birthday, he took me to Liverpool for a Beatles festival. All kinds of tribute bands and all that. When we got back at the end of the weekend, he dropped me off at my mum's with a promise that we'd make it a tradition. This is the ticket from the festival." Alex reached forward and dropped the ticket into the barrel.

When she had slipped it into her pocket early that day, she was not certain that when the time came, it would be something she could part with in such a final way. But standing there in the huddle, feeling the intimacy and security of this shared experience, it fluttered from her fingers with bittersweet ease. She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder gently. Ted had reached around her to reassure her. She smiled softly at him. Alex inhaled deeply and let out the breath slowly and she nodded in approval. Across the circle, she looked up to see that Roy had been watching her, his eyes narrowed in appraisal. When their eyes locked, his gaze softened into an expression she couldn't quite read.

"This is my cat's color," Higgins began. "She was a great companion for 20 years. I'm going to miss you, Cindy Clawford."

After Higgins, one by one, the rest of the team stepped forward with items that held sentimental value to them, sharing their stories and dropping them into the barrel. Alex was surprised as she watched each of the men vulnerably share something and sacrifice it in front of her.

When there was a lull in the volunteers, and it had seemed like the barrel had become quite full, Ted spoke up, "alright everybody go?"

"No, I wanna go." Jamie's voice called everyone's attention to the back of the room. His teammates parted to allow him to step up. He held a pair of football boots in his hand.

"These aren't my first boots or anything my mum gave it to me. She was the one who got me into football in the first place. Her and me dad split up when I was just a sexy little baby. She's the reason I work so hard. Just want to make her proud. She doesn't even care if I'm any good. Just wants me to be happy. Be a good lad." His tone shifted, "once I got good though, me old man starters showing up, didn't he?" There was something in Jamie's eyes that darkened when he spoke about his father. "Bragging to all of his mates everytime I scored a goal. Calling me "soft" if I didn't…dominate, you know. And i hated that. I actually fucking hated that. So, I made a vow to be so tough that he could never call me "soft" again." Alex felt that suddenly, some of the pieces to Jamie's damn near impossible personality started to come together. "I wonder if sometimes…I forget about making her proud. I don't think she would be lately." With that, he held up the boots as an acknowledgement to his words, and dropped them in. Jamie looked to Ted, the two shared a meaningful nod in silent agreement.

"Well, gentlemen. What do we say we burn this crap?" Ted said enthusiastically, striking a match.

"What do we say we do this part outside?" Beard quickly interrupted before the match was dropped.

"That's a good call," Ted blew out the match. "Can you boys grab this and help me get it out onto the pitch?" A few volunteers stepped forward.

"Your dad," Roy started, looking at his teammates that looked like a bunch of school boys around the burning barrel, taking pulls from the mezcal bottle. "Whiskey neat, eh?"

Alex smiled and pulled her jacket tighter around her form, "whiskey neat."

"Good taste."

"He was a good man. Not overly affectionate. But there was something about the way he looked at you when he spoke to you that let you know that your defenses weren't needed. He was stoic, but he was safe."

"Good man," Roy nodded, looking down at her. The two of them locked eyes. Roy acknowledged the layers to her statement wordlessly.

"The best," she agreed.