8
It has been four weeks since Claire touched down in New Zealand and now, the first match of the season is an away game.
This meant early alarms and organized chaos.
By six a.m., The Crusaders were already at the airport – duffel bags piled high, trainers slung over shoulders, and the faint smell of muscle rub and hot coffee mingling in the air.
The support staff, Claire included, moved like clockwork with check-in lists, medical kits, clearances for equipment. Professional rugby didn’t just travel light – it traveled with half a hospital and a full gym.
The chartered flight to Sydney was just under three hours. She has never been to Australia but was happy to get the opportunity under any pretense. Players dozed off, watched game footage, or joked across the aisles.
Jack, naturally, held court in the rows behind her, charming a few flight attendants and needling his teammates with that easy, wide grin that seemed to get him out of trouble more often than it should.
Noah, sat near the front – headphones on, reviewing plays, quiet and unbothered by the noise behind him.
Claire found herself in the middle row next to Tania who flipped through the match-day schedule on her tablet, coffee and phone both in one hand.
This was Claire’s first international match with the team, well this was Claire’s first rugby match ever, and though the routine was familiar from her American Football days, it was different somehow.
As she looked around at the men on this plane, Claire realized that these weren’t just professional athletes, who often get traded from team to team and never get the opportunity to know each other.
These men were together for the long haul, friends, and comfortable in each other's presence.
Tania nudged Claire playfully, holding up her phone with the team’s social feed open.
“Look who’s trending again,” she teased, tapping a clip of Jack doing stretches on the turf.
The comments below were a flurry of admiration for his athleticism and intensity.
Tania scrolled again to the next picture.
Claire studied Jack’s focused expression on the field.
It was so different from the easygoing, affable Jack she knew of so far.
And yet, seeing that fierce dedication made something flicker inside her, beneath his easy charm, Jack was searching for something more, just like she was.
The plane leveled out somewhere over the Tasman Sea, the noise of the engines blending with the quiet murmur of conversation and laughter. Toby had pulled up footage from last season’s semifinal on a tablet – Jack’s score in overtime that made the highlight reels for weeks.
“Doc, you’ve gotta see this,” Toby said, leaning over the aisle. “Our boy here thinks he’s cinematic.”
Jack grinned and tilted the screen toward her. “See that form? Clinical precision.”
Claire smiled politely, the same expression she used when a patient cracked a joke mid-stitch. “Looks more like chaos to me.”
The guys around her chuckled. Even Noah looked up briefly from his tablet, one earbud still in. His eyes flicked to her, curious, maybe even amused.
“Oh, Doc, you are in for a treat,” Toby said, “That chaos won us the game.”
Jack leaned back in his seat, unbothered. “Chaos gets results sometimes, and hey I got an endorsement deal after that.”
“Endorsement for what company?” she asked politely, intrigued.
“An energy gel company,” he proudly responded.
“Oh wow, that's really cool.”
“This year feels different though, I might need a good luck charm.” He rubs Liam’s head with comradery who pushed his hand away.
“You say that every fuckin’ year, Skiddie!” yelled Miko. “You always still get hurt, you’re a fuckin’ trainwreck.”
“He’s a trainwreck on fire,” Kelsey added.
Jack let out a low chuckle, like he enjoyed the challenge. “Guess I’ll have to make sure you’re ready to heal me, Doctor.”
Her cheeks warmed despite herself. She didn’t look up, but she felt Noah’s glare from the front row. It wasn’t teasing like Jack’s, just steady. Assessing. Like he was seeing something the others missed.
Tania chuckled a little. “Don’t mind him,” she said referring to Jack, “Skiddie likes to tease people when he’s stressed out.”
“I forgot to ask,” Claire was curious. “Why Skiddie?”.
The players around her laughed hysterically, as if there was an inside joke that Claire had to be there for.
“Long story,” Tania said with a laugh. “Something about dropping more than the ball his first season.”
“FIRST OFF,” yelled Jack with a laugh, “it was a long time ago and I had a protein shake before–”
He was cut off by Tania. “– AND WE STILL REMEMBER!” She laughed, leaning back.
“It was either Skidmark or Plop,” Liam interjected with a laugh.
Noah stands up and makes his way a row down. “He’s called Skid because he shit his pants when going for a try…” he said dryly while walking to the back of the plane.
“No way!” yelled Claire busted out. It was a story she hadn’t seen coming, and it made her actually laugh aloud. She had a sneaking feeling that Noah, wherever he was headed, was smirking to himself. One day, she thought she’d like to catch him smiling for real.
The rest of the flight flew by in a blur of laughter and stories. Claire picked up on the teams inside jokes, their histories woven into each nickname. Before she knew it the plane was descending with Sydney waiting below and her first rugby match about to begin.
Customs came to look at passports and documents before the team deboarded, and Claire met an agent at the front to claim her medical supplies. She presented the list, checked twice, of everything on board.
The air outside the Sydney Airport hit heavier than Auckland’s – humid, tinged with jet fuel and something faintly floral.
Spring is setting in, flowers are blooming, the smell of rain in the air.
Claire felt it stick to her skin as she followed the players through the arrivals hall, the rhythmic sound of rolling kit bags echoing against tiled floors, out to the bus pickup.
“Welcome to enemy territory,” Kelsey muttered behind her. It drew a few tired laughs.
Tania was already in logistical mode, tablet in hand. “Listen up, team – hotel’s forty minutes out, quick turnaround when we get there. Briefing in the conference room fifteen minutes after check-in. Don’t unpack your lives.”
Noah walked a few paces ahead leading the team to the buses, headphones on, shoulders squared despite the travel fatigue, his team duffel slung over one arm.
He didn’t need to raise his voice to hold attention; players unconsciously matched his stride. Claire caught a glimpse of him in the reflection of the bus window as they boarded – eyes fixed on her, unreadable, face in a neutral expression.
The ride was filled with low grumbling of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter, the soft opening of aluminum water bottle lids and a lot of jokes coming from the team.
By the time they arrived at the hotel, the team’s energy had begun to revive.
The lobby buzzed with polished efficiency – sleek white marble, the scent of citrus and coffee.
Players grabbed room keys, and in what felt like seconds, the same group that had looked half-asleep in arrivals now filed into a conference room off the main corridor, transformed by routine and discipline.
The meeting room smelled faintly of outdoors and travel sweat. A projector whirred quietly at the front, displaying the opposition’s logo – Sydney Hawks – in sharp green against a yellow background. Bottles of electrolyte water and sliced fruit sat untouched at the back.
“Right, phones on silent, lads,” said the head coach, clapping his hands once. “Let’s get to it.”
Players took out their phones to check the volume. Coach Reynolds paced slowly in front of the screen as the first slide flicked up:
Game Plan: Saturday 14:00, Moore Park Stadium. Forecast: 27°C, humid. Expect heat, fast tempo.
“They like to play quick ball,” he said. “Their wingers stay wide and their ten loves a cheeky offload. Don’t get caught admiring it – cut off their width, slow their tempo, make them grind for every meter.”
Jack sat toward the front, one knee bouncing restlessly. “Their fullback’s still out, right?”
“Correct,” said the analyst, a lean man in glasses. “They’ve called up a rookie – McCarthy. Big engine, but poor under the high ball.”
That earned a murmur of satisfaction from the forwards.
Noah leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Keep pressure on the breakdown. Stay connected through the line. No loose heads in the scrums – they’ll try to bait us into penalties.”
Claire was lost but couldn’t help watching him when he spoke; the calm authority, the quiet command of it. His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of earned respect. Even Jack – half grin, half swagger – nodded in acknowledgment.
The video clips rolled next. There were scrums, lineouts, the Hawks’ last year match against a South African team.
The screen filled with motion and grunts, the violent choreography of bodies in collision.
They went over some other logistics, some key set plays, defensive shape, counterattack plan.
It all went over Claire’s head. She understood none of it but was fascinated by the comradery.
Tania stepped in next, her voice brisk. “Daily schedules can be found on this table. Team dinner at six tonight. Training at 9AM tomorrow, light session to shake off travel legs. Be there at 8:30 team! Curfew is 9PM! 9PM!. And yes,” she added with a look that drew a few laughs, “I’ll be checking rooms.”
Jack leaned toward Miko and muttered something that made the winger smirk.
Claire wondered what was said.
When the lights came up again, the coach exhaled. “That’s it for now. Stay sharp. This team feeds off emotion – so don’t give them any.”
Tania closed her folder with a snap. “Hydrate, stretch, rest. No one disappears.”