"What are we gonna do?"
"We'll just have to start the match without him and hope to hell that he turns up at some point."
With that, both players turned away and trotted over to the main group that were warming up.
'How odd,' thought Janice, 'Tank not turning up. That is unusual. I suppose I'd better check the lacrosse pitch to see if Richie's there.'
Shoving her way back through the crowd and away from the rugby pitch, the diminutive bar worker continued to look out for the love of her life.
Richie, by now fully kitted up, her stick in one hand, a ball in the other, led her team into the corridor, out through the main door into the blazing sunshine, down some rickety old steps and headed through the crowds straight towards the pitch. The last team member locked the changing room door. Adults clapped and children waved enthusiastically as the team wove through the crowds, a smile on everyone's face.
Almost ready to start, the teams for all three of the other matches had nearly finished warming up. The idea had been for all four games to kick off at the same time, allowing spectators to drift between matches and get a good look at all the sports and the teams involved. Given just how many people had turned up, the moving about bit might prove more than a little difficult.
Oddly, the ladies' lacrosse team opposition hadn't turned out on the pitch yet. Realising this, Richie asked one of her players to go and check if there was a problem. She knew that they were here, as they'd been in the adjacent changing room. After a few minutes, the messenger came sprinting back to inform her captain that one of the opposition's cars hadn't yet arrived, so they were currently four players short. Richie nodded, understanding that such things happened, with the high volume of traffic in and around where they were no doubt only compounding things.
"Go back and tell them we'll wait," she declared. "We're not in any hurry, and after all it's supposed to be more like an exhibition match, rather than anything too serious. I'm sure the crowd would much prefer to see us take on a full team, rather than one depleted through no fault of their own."
Richie informed the rest of the team and the officials about the slight delay as her teammate sprinted back towards the makeshift changing rooms to deliver the message.
Around them, whistles blew to signal the start of the other matches. As one, the lacrosse girls stopped, taking in the spectacle of all the sport on offer.
A bright, clean rugby ball spun high up in the air, over to their left. It was impossible to see which team had kicked it, let alone which player, with the scale of the crowds around the pitch. Looking on, Richie was sure that Tank would be having a great time, totally immersed in the fever pitch atmosphere of the game.
Off to the right, the men and women playing mixed hockey stood out in their bright orange and bright blue tops, respectively. Full pelt was the best description of the game from what little Richie could see, with both the men and women struggling to fully control the ball on the slightly more uneven surface than they were used to. Richie smiled at that. Peter had confided in her that he'd often wondered what it would have been like to play hockey on a grass pitch, as it had been all the time in the not so distant past. Sometimes he'd drive past a beautiful grass pitch at a school or something and be slightly envious of those playing on it. By the looks of things, playing on grass was a lot more random and a lot more dangerous than on Astroturf, something the Salisbridge men and ladies were just finding out, no matter how well cut it had been. Hoping that Peter was watching from somewhere amongst the crowd, drawing his own conclusions about the surface, she looked forward to catching up with him later.
Like giraffes in a zoo, giant lacrosse sticks rose into the air above the crowds on the men's pitch right next door, a tangled, corded head on the end instead of ears, eyes and a gargantuan tongue. Watching in fascination at the appearance of the long sticks, she knew there could be no more than four of them on the field of play at any one time, and that's how many she counted. It was a facet of the men's game that had always intrigued her. Of course, she'd had a go many a time and was constantly astounded at how far it was possible to throw the ball. Playing a match with one of those would be totally different from anything she was used to, but the possibilities of how to change the game tactically rolled round and round inside her mind. So many options.
A shout jolted her back to reality, just in time to see a bright orange ball heading for her face. Instinctively her lightning reactions took over, catching the ball in the head of her stick.
"SORRY!" came a shout from Ali, one of her teammates.
Smiling, with a flick of her wrist, she sent the ball hurtling back to where it had come from, with just a touch more speed.
With the sun bathing her limber body, surrounded by her friends, she continued to warm up, stretching her arms, legs, back and ankles before joining in with the other players, cradling the ball while all the time twisting and turning her stick, passing to her team mates before moving on towards goal. Emma and Joey, the two other forwards, were already there, firing shot after shot at the very agile Harriet, the Salisbridge goalie, looking menacing in her black as night helmet and facemask with matching gloves, throat and chest protector. Even her gum shield was black. All of that, combined with her oversized stick, made for something very intimidating. Richie scooped up one of the practice balls from the ground, turned her stick from side to side, weaving her body back and forth, all the time cradling the ball. Harriet watched intently, as did the other two forwards. With little drawback, Richie powered her shot forward. A few of the spectators let out a gasp, realising the speed of the shot. The first thing poor Harriet knew was the sound of the ball hitting the post and bouncing into the back of the netting. She gave Richie one of her looks (not that anyone would have been able to see with all that protection around her face) glad that the awe inspiring super striker was on her side.
After a few more minutes of warming up (well, mainly Harriet's back in Richie's case, from all the bending down and retrieving the ball from the back of her net) they were greeted by the sight of their opposition heading out towards the pitch, all twelve of them by the look of it.
'Hurray,' she thought, 'a few minutes' warm up for them and then we can get underway.'
As their smiling opposition jogged past them, eager to reach the other end of the pitch and warm up, one turned and looked menacingly in her direction, standing out like a black cloud in a clear blue sky on a summer's day, pretty much like this one. Recognition blossomed into life inside Richie's head, sending a cold chill down her spine and goose bumps up her arms.
'What the hell is she doing here?' was her only thought.
Unable to remember the woman's name, Richie always thought of her as either 'Attitude' or 'Hulk' given her muscular physique. (Richie always did this with her opponents. During warm up, which she regularly watched with intent, she normally picked out names for them all for her to apply during the match itself. Cocky, Hairy, Freckles, Ginger, Blondie, Big Gloves, Fancy Trainers... all those and more she'd used on more than one occasion.) Attitude/Hulk normally played for Bristol Fire Foxes, but for some reason had appeared today and seemed to be turning out for the Avalon Avengers, a very friendly up and coming team from Somerset. Richie's reaction to the player could be put down to their meetings over the course of several seasons, where there had been many run ins between the two of them, with the Salisbridge captain almost always coming out on top. But Richie considered this woman her nemesis, if indeed such a thing existed, particularly given the physicality of her game. She could remember coming off after games against her, literally covered in cuts and bruises, aching from head to toe, just from the beating she'd taken at the hands of this woman. Right now she hoped there'd be none of that, after all it was a friendly and all about raising money not just for the sports club, but also for the poor people who'd been affected by the devastating attacks across the world. Pushing it all out of her mind, she gathered the team and started giving them their customary talk, remembering to be clear about precisely what manner the game should be played in, given that it was in fact a friendly and that lots of spectators who'd never even seen the sport would be watching, with the aim being to show them everything good about the sport. Everyone agreed, and with a mighty cheer, left the aforementioned huddle to take up their positions on the field of play, with the Avalon Avengers doing exactly the same thing.