Page 14 of Brat on the Ball

“Noted. Let’s go, Nath,” said Finn, reaching out his hand to pull his lover boy from the sofa. As the door closed behind them, I breathed a sigh of relief. I definitely needed to sleep. And then I would write my dissertation, so long as I could get that damn man out of my head for more than a minute. Because he was driving me to distraction more than anything else.

Chapter Eight - Ollie

I’d spent Sunday in a haze, lounging around in the hoodie of a man whose name I didn’t even know and sniffing the collar for his aftershave like he was some high school crush.

Walking into Cardiff’s training facility in Pontypridd on Monday was like having a bucket of cold sick thrown over that happy haze. No one would look me in the eye, and I knew it wasn’t because of the love bite - I’d taken care to hide that with a scarf. No, everyone was looking at me because I was introubleover what had happened on the weekend.

“Gaffer wants to see you,” said Sven as I passed him in the corridor.

“I know,” I muttered, making my way toward Tim’s office next to the changing rooms. I wasn’t ever as angry as I’d been on Saturday, and I felt completely deflated now. I’d really fucked up.

I knocked, and there was a long silence before Tim spoke. “Come in.”

I opened the door slowly, and it creaked. “Should get those hinges oiled,” I muttered to myself. Something my dad would say. I closed the door behind me, and it creaked even louder.

“Should oil those hinges,” Tim said, and I couldn’t help but smile a little bit. His face was stoic and unreadable, but that wasn’t unusual for him. “Sit down, Oliver.”

I sat down in the chair across from him. The whole office was decorated in navy blue, and he had a Cardiff City mouse mat and mug. The desk was the only thing that looked out of place, a big mahogany thing that made me feel like we were sitting at opposite ends of the room.

“You fucked up,” said Tim. He was quiet, and firm, and not half as angry as I thought he would seem. “And for the first time, I think you’ve really disappointed me. I’d like to know why.”

I felt my stomach drop out from under me. I’d have preferred it if he shouted at me. “I…” my heart was pounding. “I think I could have helped us draw that match. At the very least, got us a point. And Cory deliberately tried to take a shot that he knew he wouldn’t make.”

“So we have a prima donna on our hands. You’ve played with men like that before,” said Tim. “What’s so different this time?”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. Because I’d been annoyed at Cory, but hadn’t crossed a line until…

“Just annoyed, I guess,” I said.

“I don’t believe you.” Tim tapped one hand on the desk. “I spoke to Chen. And he told me…”

“What?” I asked.

“Cory’s choice of language might be what pushed you over the edge. I heard that he used a word I’d rather not have spoken in my changing rooms.”

Again, I felt my mouth open and close, like I was a goldfish desperate for air. “…It offended me, yeah.”

“And is there a reason for that?” Tim asked. He watched me intently, his eyes boring into my soul.

I didn’t know what to say. But it didn’t matter. Because Tim had seen through everything, and all I had been trying to hide. In the end, all it took was one word. “…yes.”

“OK. That’s all I need to know until you want to tell me more. OK?”

“Thank you,” I breathed.

“But we do need to talk about your behaviour. No matter what motivated it,” said Tim. “We pay you twenty thousand pounds a week to play, but also to attend post-match interviews, to promote our sponsors, to meet your fans. You not being there for any of that has ramifications for our contracts. So I’ll be fining you a week’s pay. Understood?”

“Understood…thank you.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I should have been disappointed to lose almost the equivalent of an annual average salary for most people, but I knew if Tim hadn’t known my situation, I’d have been liable for a worse punishment. And he knew. Well, ish. But it felt like I had nudged gently the closet door open.

“Just so you know, Cory lost a week’s pay, too. I don’t tolerate offensive language in my changing rooms. And if it happens again with anyone, I expect you to come to me first, before you blow your lid. Because if anyone is going to punch someone who says anything like that, it’ll be me.” Tim cracked a smile. “Go lace up your boots. It’s fitness for the day today. We have a match on Wednesday, which gives you a lovely weekend off afterward. And I expect you to score a goal against Leeds. Your style of play is exactly what they struggle to cope with.”

I groaned. Fitness was a bastard, but I knew we needed it after the match against Reading. I was quick in short bursts, but our stamina had failed us. Tim had turned back to his laptop, so I stood up. It was only when I had opened the door that he spoke again.

“Ollie. Just know I’m here whenever you need me, OK? I’m not just the team’s manager. I care about every single one of you.”

“Thanks, Tim. I really appreciate it,” I said.

The door next to Tim’s office led me to the changing rooms, so I headed in and got changed into my training kit and boots. A bag landed on the bench next to me, and I looked up at who had thrown it down. Cory was standing next to me, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

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