In The Square (Sideline Secrets #1)

1. Tate

TATE

Today is the day. Months of hard work, years of training and preparing have finally come to a head.

“Alright, boys,” Coach Graham calls the locker room to attention.

The voices around me fall silent as we all sit down and face our Coaches in the centre of the room.

I glance around, taking in the stoic faces of my teammates, my brothers in football.

The Orlo Outlaws. We are a new team that was only formed two years ago—and for our second season, we are making history tonight.

It’s a heady feeling for a bloke finishing up his rookie season.

“Win or lose today, you’ve earned this,” Coach Graham says, making eye contact with each and every one of us as he looks around the room.

He is our head Coach and has been there for me since the moment I was drafted before the start of this season.

“Every single one of you has played hard and fought for your place on this team and in this game. I don’t need to tell you what’s on the line tonight.

You’re all smart boys and know. Some of you have been here before with other teams, you know how to handle the pressure and can get through it.

And for some of you, this is your first A Grade Premiership, look to your teammates.

Take it all in. At the end of the day, this is a match like any other, and we’ve got a job to do.

You’ve got this. We’re the Outlaws!” Coach calls, and we chant with him.

“OUT! LAWS! OUT! LAWS!”

“They’ll try to break us,” Coach Graham continues, “They think that because we’re the new kids on the block that we don’t know how to handle it.

But they don’t have our fight. They don’t know our plays, and they don’t know how much each and every one of you was picked and curated for this team. For this moment.”

You could hear a pin drop in this room with how quiet the team is, completely captivated by our coach. The tension and anxiety in the room is so thick I can almost touch it. There is nothing any of us want more than to win this game tonight.

Coach Graham continues, “I want you to go out there and give the game your all. Leave it all on the field. When the final siren sounds, that’s when we will memorialise our name in this premiership as Winners,” Coach Graham’s deep voice bounces around the room, resonating with each of us.

Assistant Coach Anderson next to him, pipes up, “When you hit that field, remember you are not chasing this anymore, not proving that you have a right to be here. You have done that all season. Tonight, you are claiming what is already yours. Let the roar of the crowd fuel you. It might not be a home game for us tonight, but we still have a fuck ton of support out there—and in here too,” he says, gesturing around the room.

“One of the best things about this game is that it’s a team sport.

We lift each other up, we all give it our best, and we—as a team—will bring this game home for the club. ”

“OUT—what?” Jonesy, our team captain, calls now that the Coaches have wrapped up their speeches. It’s a corny as fuck cheer, but it never fails to hype the guys up and get us all in the zone for a game.

“LAWS!” We chant.

“OUT-what?”

“LAWS!”

“OUT-WHAT?”

“LAWS!!!!”

An alarm chimes, alerting the locker room that it’s time for us to get our arses on the field.

Tension flows through the room, and I can feel the adrenaline pulsing through me.

Joining the line of teammates, I start to head out of the room when Coach Anderson steps in front of me.

He is the Backline Defence Coach, and while I don’t work much with him directly as a Full Forward, he has been a huge support to me this season, talking me through the stress and pressure of playing professionally, and I’d like to think that he has become a mate of sorts.

He is twenty-two to my nineteen, and we are both the youngest people in the room.

I was the only rookie this year, with the rest of the twenty-two-man roster being made up of experienced players.

Anderson was a professional player up until he suffered a career ending injury a few years ago.

Since I started with the team, he has been offering me advice based on his experience, and he has been invaluable to me personally.

Without him, I doubt I would’ve got through the nerves of playing professionally and kept my head on my shoulders, let alone help the team make it all the way to the premiership.

“You deserve to be out there,” he says quietly so I am the only one who can hear him, his storm grey eyes locked with mine.

“I never got to this point myself, but I can get an idea of all the thoughts running through that pretty head of yours,” he jokes, and I crack a smile.

“You’re one of the best players on this team, one of the best this game has seen in a few years, don’t let the pressure of the game get to you. ”

“Thanks mate,” I chuckle, patting him on the shoulder. “Your faith in me is overwhelming.”

“I know you’re joking to try to take the tension off, so I’ll allow it,” he laughs, clapping me back before allowing me to pass and join the rest of the team in the hallway.

Surprisingly, I don’t think I am as anxious as everyone else here, or as much as everyone thinks I am. I mean, sure, this is a high pressure environment. Last game of the season. Premiership match. And I’m one of the youngest players to get to this point over the last decade.

Ok, fuck. Maybe I am anxious.

Taking a deep breath, I let all thoughts leave my mind and run out onto the field—ready to take home the win.

I have been playing Aussie Rules footy basically since I could walk.

It’s one of the benefits of growing up a legacy.

I guess I should be grateful that I fell in love with the sport and was happy to spend all my time playing and following in Dad’s footsteps.

Speaking of Dad, I run my eyes over the stadium, trying to see if I can find him.

I’d offered him a space in the team’s family box tonight, like I do every game, and he turned down, like he always does.

Even though the Outlaws aren’t his team, he bought a season pass when I was drafted and prefers sitting amongst the crowd.

Although tonight he told me that he had a better seat secured, but wouldn’t tell me where he would be.

When I spot him, first row of seats, directly behind the sideline where Coach Graham and Coach Anderson are standing, I laugh out loud as I run over to him.

“I should’ve guessed you’d be down here,” I call out when I am standing in front of him. I reach over the barrier to pull him into a strong hug. “How’d you manage this seat?” I ask into his ear before pulling back.

“Please, I owned a field back in my day. I still have some connections,” he laughs. He cups my face, looking directly into my eyes. “I am so proud of you.”

Fuck.

“Come on, Dad, don’t make me cry before I get out there,” I joke.

He laughs, patting my cheek as he lets me go.

“You got this Tate, you are a better player than I ever was, and look at how far you got in your first season. You, my boy, have got this!”

I grin at him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before I climb back down and make my way to the sidelines.

Some men hate when we show affection for each other, but fuck that noise.

I want to be a role model to others, to showcase how you can be yourself and keep your beliefs and values while being in sports.

You’d think in this day and age that toxic masculinity wouldn’t still have a foothold, but unfortunately it still does.

My dad raised me with the ability to process and regulate my own emotions, thank you very much.

I’m sure there will be photos of that moment all over social media in seconds, and once upon a time it would have made me self-conscious.

These days, I recognise that it won’t be ‘normal’ until more people see it.

I have been graced with being a public figure, so I use that fame for good and show young boys what a real man can act like.

That we also have emotions, and are allowed to do things like hug our dads in public.

Waving to the crowd, I run out onto the field with my teammates, letting the energy pulsing through the stadium, I get into position—and when the ball bounces, I play the best game of my life.

The roar of the crowd fills my ears, drowning out the sound of the final siren—it’s the kind of sound that shakes the earth underneath me, echoing through my body and lighting me up inside.

My whole life has changed in seconds.

I did it. I won. The premier ship. I DID IT. Well, I mean, I guess we as a team did it. But me? ME! I scored the winning goal.

Holy shit.

Panting to catch my breath, I am tackled from all sides. Wrapped up in arms, so many that I don’t even know who is here. I spent the last four quarters out here, reeling that I was even on this field to begin with, and to stand here now… I can’t even comprehend it.

When I was drafted at the beginning of the season, I had hoped—dreamed—that I would one day be in a grand final. Yet, now here I stand, surrounded by the salty smell of sweat mixed with grass stains, a Premiership winner in my rookie season.

I can feel mud mixed with sweat drying on my face, but I can’t bring myself to care about it.

I hug my teammates—hug anyone who comes within arm’s distance of me, really—pulling them to my chest, needing to cement this moment in reality.

As confetti falls, sticking to sweaty skin as we make our way back to the sideline, our families flood the field, and I push through them searching for Dad.

I love my teammates, and that the fans are here to witness our win, but Dad is the person I need at my side in this moment.

Thankfully, I quickly see his head weaving his way towards me, and I run up to him.

“You bloody did it!” Dad yells in my ear, pulling me into a fierce hug when I reach him.