Page 4 of Not Falling for the Forward
“Jesus. Emily, are you okay?” A male voice asks, and I’m roughly moved out of the way by a middle-aged bald man. They’re all wearing the same luminous green uniforms with ‘First Aid’ written on the back so at least they should know what they’re doing.
“I’m so, so, so, so sorry!” I repeat to anyone that will listen, but everyone’s attention is on the now rousing Emily.
“Dude, it was an accident,” I hear from behind me. I recognise the voice as my Team Captain, William, but I’m not listening to him right now. I just need to know this girl is going to be okay.
“Fuuuuuck, that hurt,” Emily groans as she tries to sit up. She sounds like she has a raging cold, probably from all the blood blocking her nose.
All the blood that I caused.
Shit. I run my hand over the back of my neck. I’m such a dick.
The older woman holds up a single finger, “Now, now, there is no need for that language, missy.” I can’t help but smirk at Emily being scolded for swearing, something I get called out for multiple times a day.
The woman puts pressure on Emily’s shoulder when she attempts to get up, “Stay exactly where you are whilst I check you for a spinal injury.” She starts to run her hands over the back of Emily's shoulders and neck.
I shake my head in disbelief as I realise what the lady has just said. Holy shit, a spinal injury! I hit her face not her back. Can that cause a spinal injury? What if she hit her head? Christ, she’s going to be disabled for the rest of her life because I can’t aim for shit.
There is a hard tug on the sleeve of my shirt and William’s voice brings me back from my spiral, “She’s in good hands, Jack, give them some privacy.” I turn and give him an exasperated look only to see half of my team and coaches gathered around the scene.Ahhh fab. Quite a crowd here to witness my almost murder and subsequent breakdown. Seems like leaving the country is out of the question, maybe if the judge sees how remorseful I am I will get less time.
I turn my focus again on the older lady, “Can I do anything to help?” I ask desperate to assist. The older woman turns to look at me with a stern expression. “I think you’ve done enough here Mr Cartwright. Thank you very much. We’ve got it, have a good game.” It’s hard not to flinch at the tone as she turns her attention back to Emily, thoroughly dismissing me.
“Come on man, it’s time for briefing anyway.” William tugs on my arm again and I allow his firm grip to lead me away from the scene of my crime.
Back in the changing rooms, I am sat in my usual place on the bench between William and Kieran, our keeper. My knee bounces up and down nervously as if there’s some stored-up energy I need to release. I haven’t listened to a word our manager has been saying. I can only think about Emily, on the floor, bleeding and groaning in pain.
I did that to her.
Why on earth was she standing behind the bloody goal during warm up staring at her phone, anyway?
Okay, Jack. Way to blame the victim. Maybe I shouldn’t have been practicing my left foot striking whilst there were people around, I know I’m shit with it after the accident.I had seen Emily stood there before I almost killed her. She had a big high-vis coat on, kind of hard to miss. Although, not my intended target, a florescent jacket does make for a very visible one.
Now I am thinking about it, I have seen her quite a few times over the past two seasons. She’s been hard to not see. She always has a big infectious smile on her face and is laughing and joking with her colleagues. You can literally hear her laugh from across the field before the crowds come in. More often than I would like to admit, I’ve caught myself looking around for the freckled face that I know the cackle has come from.
Thatvery pretty, freckled face.
It’s also been hard not to notice how well her work pants fit around her shapely arse and how good her thick chestnut ponytail would look wrapped around my wrist. Those, not so innocent, observations may be the real reason I always find myself looking over to the first aid post to see if she is on duty.She is hot, and I’m a man with eyes. Sue me.
Today, when I’d seen her standing behind the goal, she looked more subdued than I have ever seen her before. She didn’t have that delightful smile on her face, if anything she looked like she had seen a ghost and her gut reaction was to throw up on it.
Her arse did still look amazing in those pants though.
Shit, I probably shouldn’t be objectifying the woman that I almost killed. Potentially did kill. Doesn’t head trauma get you later on?
I’ve never felt bad for having indecent thoughts about beautiful women before. Then again, I’ve never almost killed someone beforeeither, so there's lots of new feelings happening today. My therapist is going to be rolling in it trying to help me decipher these.
“You good? You look distracted.” Williams concerned gaze lands on me, startling me out of my self-reflection.
“Yeah, just getting my head around the set-up,” I lie, nodding at the board in front of us as if I have any idea what the manager is talking about right now. I just go on and score goals, that usually keeps him happy.
“Good, head down mate, okay? This could be the season we get promoted.” He claps my shoulder and returns to listen to the rest of the brief. William is a good captain, always calm and collected. I normally wouldn’t get on with someone as type-A as him, everything planned and in its place at the right time. He’s the total opposite of me, but he made an effort to get to know me when I first joined the team. He did this with each of us individually and it has given him an unparalleled skill in knowing when one of us isn’t playing at our top game. Like now, he can tell I’m distracted and beating myself up about Emily so he’ll probably check on me twenty-five more times before the game starts. He wants us all on our best game that way we can get towards the top of the table and maybe get promoted.
Yeah, the team I play for now is desperate to get promoted. The cash injection it would give the club would help sign better players or pay these guys better. It could fix up the West stand for the fans or just encourage more fans to come and watch.
This team is a far cry from my last, we couldn’t get promoted any further, I was at the top of my game in the Premier League.The wage I made per week was more than I now make in a year. Brands were begging for advertising space, and we sold out almost every game.
But that’s the problem with being at the top. When you fall, it's a really, fucking long way down.
Chapter two
