Blowing his whistle because the scrum had broken up, the referee tried to find out what the problem was, but the man mountain was too far gone to be anything close to coherent. Players from both sides were mystified as to what had happened. Nobody had seen anything untoward; Tank had made sure of that with a sneaky, little known, distraction mantra from a small town in Southern Africa.
Looking on with satisfaction as the opponents' physio sprinted on to check out his injured player, Tank wasn't at all surprised to see the man take one look at the damaged hand, before leading him back off towards the changing rooms, mouthing the word "hospital" to the manager in the process. As the referee looked to restart the match, Tank could just make out the physio in the distance ask his player what on earth he'd done. Wrapping his arms around his teammate's shoulders, Tank sincerely hoped that the player in question had once and for all learnt his lesson.
* * *
Half an hour later it was all wrapped up. Richie's lacrosse team had handed out a crushing defeat, winning 14-0 in the end, the women delighted with their performance, their singing echoing throughout the changing rooms and across the pitches.
For Peter, the hockey hadn't been quite the success he'd hoped for, but the team had managed to fight their way back into the game and for a short time at the end, had looked better placed to go on and win it. But they finally had to settle for a share of the spoils at 1-1.
Despite Tank's run in with their opponents' best player and the confusion that ensued afterwards, Salisbridge were beaten 16-12, only the second time they'd lost all season, the players looking exhausted and demoralised as they trudged off towards the changing rooms and a well earned hot shower.
* * *
Being a Saturday afternoon in the league season for all the major winter sports, the bar area of the clubhouse was packed. Janice and three others were working non-stop to serve all the customers, standing two deep. As the lacrosse, hockey, rugby players and spectators all started to drift in, the bar became even busier along its entire fifty foot length. Drink after drink slid their way across the shiny wooden surface, most landing on mats, others being whisked away by a thirsty hand before making it that far. In proportion to the number of new arrivals, the noise rose, with all of the tables taken, a queue for food orders and even the smallest of spaces all but filled by either individuals or teams; in all it was noisy, rowdy, crowded, slightly claustrophobic... but WONDERFUL!. There was banter, chit chat, Mickey taking, tactical discussion, game dissections, as well as the usual life, work, and relationship talk. It was BRILLIANT, and something the three friends found magically intoxicating, and an integral part of their deep love for all three of their respective sports.
Currently Peter, his hockey team and their opponents all sat around a group of tables near the main entrance, sharing some well deserved food, a jug of beer and lively conversation.
In comparison, Tank and the rugby teams all stood around the furthest part of the bar, just outside the double doors to the stairwell that led to the first floor. They too were sharing a laugh, some food, and significantly more than one jug of beer.
Slap bang in the middle of the clubhouse, making as much noise as both the rugby and the hockey men put together, gathered the lacrosse ladies, who by now were well onto the drinking games, with plenty of clapping, singing, shouting, and of course... drinking. All except for Richie, who despite being their leader and chief cohort, stood well back from the circle of players, nursing an entire pint of lime and soda, the alea just visible through the delicate red top she was wearing. For her not to be joining in was very unusual indeed.
Through a crowd of sweaty, heaving bodies, Peter caught Janice's eye (not literally... no ball games in the clubhouse) just as she was filling up a large glass with ice and a light coloured soft drink. On noticing her man, the bubbly blonde winked, instantly melting the hockey playing dragon's heart, causing his knees to go weak and that giddy, excited feeling to start kicking about in his stomach. Holding up five fingers on her left hand, she mouthed the words, "Five minutes," halfway across the bar. He nodded in reply, smitten. With that, a large hand came down firmly in the middle part of his back, forcing him to spill a small part of his drink on the already stained and sticky carpet.
"Alright Pete?" asked the team captain, Andy.
"Ahhh... fine thanks," he replied.
"It's a hot one you've got there my friend," slurred the second team captain, motioning in Janice's direction, with his half finished pint of lager.
Feeling his temperature rapidly rising, Peter started to blush.
"It's alright me old mate," slurred Andy once again, this time wrapping his free arm around the young hockey playing dragon's shoulders. "I've known for a while there was something going on between the two of you, but don't worry," announced Andy, really loudly, raising his finger to his lips in an attempt to indicate quiet, following it with a long 'shuuuush,' sound, "I'm almost certainly the most discreet person I know and promise not to tell another soul." With that, he staggered off in the direction of another teammate, Peter relieved to see him go. But before he'd got two paces, he turned back towards the young dragon, a puzzled look etched across his face.
"Terrible thing about the sports club chairman, what with him losing it and all that."
Looking on quizzically, not at all sure what his captain was talking about, before he could ask for some details, Andy turned and continued on his drunken journey, leaving Peter shaking his head, once again wondering what the attraction of alcohol really was.
Mind focused on Janice and the last part of that very weird conversation with Andy, Peter scanned the busy bar, almost instantly finding Richie with his gaze. Watching her for a few seconds in awe of her sheer beauty and the radiance that she exuded, it struck him as odd that she was standing so far back from the rest of her team. Perhaps they'd lost, was his first thought. But that certainly didn't fit in with how the rest of the team were acting. Concern for his friend and an inquisitive nature got the better of him, so he snaked his way through the myriad of bodies, tables and chairs, through the ear splitting laughter and the noise of the football results on the giant television screens. Stalking up behind her, he gently put a soft hand on her exposed shoulder. Surprisingly, she nearly dropped her drink, something of a turnaround particularly given the normal course of events.
"Oh Pete, you startled me," she exclaimed, turning round.
"Sorry Rich. Not my intention."
"That's alright," she replied. "I was caught up in my own mind... daydreaming I suppose. So it serves me right."
Feeling a little awkward, he'd never heard his friend talk like this before. Deciding to change the subject, he turned to one he knew she'd be much happier talking about.
"How was your match today? Did you win?" he asked, having to raise his voice over the din the rest of the lacrosse team were making.
Without raising even a hint of a smile, something Peter found odd, Richie replied,
"It was okay. We won 14-0."
"Wow... 14-0! That's some score Rich. How many did you get? One, two?" he joked, trying to get a smile out of his friend.
"I think it was nine in the end," she ventured, glancing over his shoulder towards the main entrance.
"Nice!" he stated, impressed. Just about to ask, as a joke, if she'd been using her SPECIAL abilities, he followed her gaze across the crowded room to... Tim, her so called ex-boyfriend, who'd just walked through the main doors with the rest of his hockey team, having no doubt just returned from an away game.