40
Stick It To 'Em!
Pulling the handbrake tight, Richie turned off the ignition and gazed out at the sight in front of her. The city council had done an astounding job in such a short space of time. Of course the rugby pitch had already been there, with the men's section of the sports club having already made use of it. But to have created two grass lacrosse pitches and one grass hockey pitch, just for today's fundraiser, was above and beyond the call of duty. And more remarkable still was the fact that the surface of all the pitches looked stunning. Grabbing her kit bag and sticks from the back seat, she locked her car and headed off through the throng of people towards the temporary portacabins that she knew to be the changing rooms. As she snaked in and out of the crowd, friends and acquaintances nodded and said hi to her; most she recognised, some she didn't. Following some bright yellow signs that said 'Lacrosse Ladies' Changing' eventually she walked up a set of steps and into the changing rooms, the last one of her team to turn up.
"Glad you could make it," commented one.
"Nice of you to join us," declared the next.
"What time do you call this?"
And so it went on. And do you know what? She loved every second of it. After all, that's part of what being in a team is all about.
Outside, the place was filling up. Cars were streaming in now, newcomers having to use the overflow car park. Families walked in on foot, all happy to pay the entrance fee, all supporting the efforts of everyone involved in the fundraising event.
No one could remember exactly whose idea it had been, given that it had occurred late on a Saturday evening around a table in a restaurant, smack bang in the middle of Salisbridge. Of course copious amounts of alcohol had been consumed as committee and club members from all sections had met up in what was almost their usual high spirited Saturday night, just not in the normal place, not after it had been destroyed so violently and abruptly by THAT bomb. Most could barely believe what had happened and were still in a constant state of confusion about why they and their clubhouse had been targeted. But given the events across the world, most counted themselves fortunate that people hadn't lost their lives on that fateful day. Salisbridge was most certainly in mourning for its clubhouse, but also for those around the world who had lost their lives in such tragic circumstances. So the idea had come about to hold an event that would raise some funds not only for the sports club, and for the teams' use of alternative facilities in the area to continue to play their selected sports, but also to go towards those who had lost loved ones and in particular their homes, in some of the hardest hit areas. A late night drunken idea had taken off immediately, with all parties agreeing on something they did best... play sport!
So here it was, the 'SUPER SPORT, SUPER DAY OUT!' Of course the council had chipped in, allowing the use of their sports fields on the other side of town from the giant crater that now filled the spot where their beloved clubhouse had stood. They'd even prepared four pitches (two lacrosse, one hockey, one rugby) working overtime to get them all ready, and to the highest possible standard. Temporary cabins had been loaned to them free of charge, along with many portable loos. Over the last couple of weeks, the local paper had been promoting it free of charge, along with nearly all the city's traders. And of course word of mouth about just how good it was going to be had spread like wildfire. Fairground attractions, stalls, shops, bands and entertainers had all pledged their time and abilities for free to such a good cause. Every player in each of the respective sports had spent weeks since the idea had first taken off collecting sponsorship, many individuals reaching totals of several thousands of pounds from the kind hearted people of the city, as well as their opponents pledging to do the same. At this very moment, the atmosphere was buzzing and felt more like a carnival then a sporting event.
Many thousands of people had crowded in, so much so that a whole new field had to be found for the stream of cars flooding back on to the main road, as far as the eye could see. Volunteers from the different sports sections manned the gate, all staggered at just how many people had turned up to see the three different sports, hockey, lacrosse and rugby, all played simultaneously on four different pitches.
As the ever increasing noise outside assaulted her ears, Richie's thoughts turned to her friends. Picturing Tank in one of the other changing rooms, quietly scheming about how his second team could beat the first team that they were playing against, she imagined him sitting calmly, back against the wall, clothes hung up perfectly on their assigned peg, even though it was only a friendly game, knowing him well enough to be sure beyond any doubt that he and his friends would want to put one over on the supposedly better team in, of course, a fair and controlled manner. She had no doubt that the adrenaline would be coursing through his veins now, in much the same way as it pumped furiously around her body right at this very moment. Undoubtedly Peter was already here, she assumed, but as a spectator only, as the hockey match was a mixed affair, with a team made up from the men's and the ladies' first XIs. Remembering that Peter had mentioned Tank would be bringing Flash along as well, she could only recall meeting him on a couple of occasions and didn't know him that well, but he seemed very nice, and as far as she was concerned... the more the merrier.
"Well?" asked the team captain.
The rugby player cancelled the call on his phone.
"He's not picking up. It just rings out, with no option to even leave a voice message."
"That's really odd," piped up someone else. "He's nearly always the first one here. I do hope nothing's happened to him."
Trying not to let his disappointment show too much, the captain was well aware of just how much more of a formidable team they were with Tank in their side, and knew exactly how much the hulking monster of a rugby player wanted to win this match. They'd talked about it only a few days ago, agreeing on a strategy and some very simple and straightforward plays. But for him not to turn up now was something of a letdown to say the least. His mind echoed the sentiments that his fellow player had just expressed... he hoped nothing bad had happened to him.
Janice snaked through the crowd, following them this way and that, almost carried on by a will other than her own. Sunglasses and a baseball cap provided her anonymity. For the last week or so, she'd been undecided on whether or not to attend. Even that morning, she still hadn't known. But in the end, the desire to be here had outweighed any doubts that she'd had. So here she was, mingling with all the other spectators, ready to watch all the fabulous sport on offer. At least, that's what she told herself. Inside though, she knew it was nothing to do with that. She needed to see him, even if it was from just a distance, and she knew that he'd be here. The team sheets with the names of the players competing today had been listed on the website for a week now, and two names stood out: Tank in the rugby match, and the one and only Richie Rump in the lacrosse match. If she hadn't known before that he'd be here, those two names only confirmed it.
With the matches not quite ready to start, she found herself beside the rugby pitch, right next to the second team warming up. Trying to look casual and not too interested, she attempted to see where Tank was, assuming that Peter wouldn't be that far away. Beside her, the team captain was talking to one of his players.
"Any sign of him?"
"No. None at all I'm afraid."
"Damn. I can't believe he's not here. It's so unlike him."
"Perhaps he's just stuck in the traffic."
"Unlikely. Tank's normally the first one here. If we've all made it and he hasn't, something somewhere is very, very wrong."