Page 17 of Pitch Prince

“Hi Callum, it’s Wesley.”

Wesley? Peterson?Why was the Welsh Head Coach calling me? I had no Welsh ancestors, and I didn’t think anyone would think they could tempt me to play for the Welsh team even if I had. I was Scottish through and through.

“Hi Wesley, what can I do for you?” I asked as diplomatically as possible.

“See, I’ve been selected as Lions Head Coach this year. How does Captain sound to you?”

What the hell? Captain? Of the British Lions?

The lions tour only ever came around once every four years, and to be chosen for it was the highest honour. The best players from the British nations and Ireland were all desperate to be picked. I’d been on two tours before, but I could never have expected I’d get picked to be captain. Especially when the Head Coach had so many connections to the Welsh team.

“Callum? Are you there?”

“I am…are you sure?” I couldn’t believe it. I breathed out, not realising I’d completely stopped breathing for a second.

“Of course I’m fucking sure, did you think I dialled the wrong number?” Wesley’s forthright reputation was known worldwide, and I chuckled.

“Not at all. I’d love to. I do have something to tell you though, in case it changes your decision.”

“If you’ve broken your leg in three places you can fuck off.” Wesley’s voice down the phone was a warning.

“No…I’m going to retire once the tour is done. I don’t want you taking me as captain if you think it’s going to launch the next few years of my career. If that’s alright with you, I’ll be honoured.”

“Well lad, let’s make this a farewell tour for you to remember.” I could almost hear Wesley’s smile down the phone. It was almost enough to make me forget all the crap I would have to do first.

9

Chapter Nine - Rhys

I sat with Finn and my mother in the living room of the little flat. It was early May and the patio doors had been flung open. There was a bottle of champagne sitting unopened on the table and we had turned to the sports news.

When I’d asked Finn if he would be watching the Lions selection on the news with his friends or at the local rugby club, he had given a little shrug and saiddunnowith the saddest face in the world. And I realised that the biggest party animal on the Wales squad had no-one to go to when he needed to share a quiet moment. And I realised that perhaps the reason he had gravitated towards me in the first place, the reason he threw so many wild parties, was because he felt alone.

“Can’t wait to see your name come up on that screen,” I said to him. He just shrugged, but I could see that excitable energy rolling under his skin. I was as thrilled as he was just to watch. I knew the chances of me being picked were slim to none, but I was excited for my friend. And my mum had come along ‘just in case’ I was selected.

“Are you excited boys?” she asked. She was more amped up than the two of us and had downed two glasses or white wine in the twenty minutes since we had turned the news on.

My phone buzzed in my pocket just as Mu got up to get another glass.

Callum: Are you watching the Lions selection on TV?

Rhys: Yup. Think you’ll still get picked, old man? They might choose you for your ancient wisdom.

Callum: I like your odds ;).

And there it was. A stupid emoji of a winking face that made my heart flutter a little bit. Callum and I had been texting for months, usually daily, just with compliments for the way the other had played or to mention something going on in the rugby world. When the news had broken of his and Sarah’s split, I had sent him a commiserating text. But something in the way we were constantly in contact felt different to me.

You’re mooning over a straight man who’s just divorced his wife, my brain supplied helpfully. I tamped it down and did my best not to think about it until Finn ruined it all of two seconds later.

“Still texting Callum, then?” he asked.

I moved my phone away so that he couldn’t see the screen. “Is that any of your business?”

“No need to get offended, boyo. I’m just saying, you’re pretty glued to the old man. He’s like the Mr Miyagi to your Danny LaRusso.”

“Yeah, he is. And you’re the Lurch to my Gomez.”

Before Finn could shoot back we were interrupted by my mum’s squeal of “ooh, it’s starting!” and we turned straight to the TV to watch.

---