More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Five

Before my injury, it was almost guaranteed that my name would be in the starting team just about every week.  Emil, who played as the left centre back, and I started building a really good relationship on the field and towards the latter parts of my previous season we became a force to be reckoned with.  And then, when I started connecting with Mason, too, there wasn't much of a reason for Frank to leave me out.

For this reason, I struggled to think of the last time I started on the bench for a Premier League game.  As a way to distract myself from the pre-match activities taking place on the pitch, I cast my mind back to the last season I had actually played.  There was a game against Huddersfield towards the end of March that I remembered coming on for, or maybe it was our last away game against West Ham in April that I hadn't started.  Either way, it felt like years ago that I'd last been sitting in the dug out.

Jealousy stung in my chest as I watched the game progress.  It didn't help my spirits that wind kept on sweeping rain through the stadium, chilling me to the bone despite the jacket and tracksuit pants I wore.  Half time came and went, with us one up as the team wandered off.  I longed to be in the changing room with the starting players, but instead I kicked a ball around with Valentina and did some stretches lead by our fitness coach.

Fifty minutes in and Jody sent me, Daniel, Val and Juan to warm up along the side of the pitch.  Hope warmed my chilled body as I jogged up and down, and excitement bubbled through me as I returned to the dug out feeling rejuvenated.

However, my spirits dwindled when Frank called on Daniel for Kyle after sixty-five minutes.  Kyle lumbered off, smiling at the goal he'd scored to get us two-nil up.  He sat in front of me, turning around to accept my high-five and congratulations.

Ten minutes later Mason was taken off for Val, diminishing my hopes of getting onto the pitch even more.  Mason wasn't having his best game: a tight midfield and crowded defence left him with not enough space to create chances in the way he normally did.  He still came off graciously, clapping to the fans as he ambled towards the sideline.

Calls of well done and good job sounded for Mase from the bench as he took the jacket Jody handed him. Frank pulled him aside and whispered something to him, which resulted in a strange reaction from Mason.  Shaking his head, he pulled the jacket on and headed towards the chairs.  Looking up, he met my eyes and accepted my smile with a small nod.  His gaze shifted to my side.

"Hey, Spence, move up?" he called, motioning to Spencer, who was sitting on my right.

The Scotsman moved over and Mason collapsed into the seat next to me with a huff.  He kept his gaze ahead, his face set in a frown, as he downed a bottle of orange sports drink.  Something was clearly wrong, but I didn't want to press him while he was in this kind of mood.

No longer than three minutes after Mason came off, Annika went down clutching her ankle.  My mood plummeted when Frank motioned to Juan to get ready.  I sunk down in my chair, trying to hide my obvious disappointment.  It was then that I felt Mason nudge me in the side with his elbow.

"You good?" he asked quietly, still looking ruffled.

I nodded but didn't say anything.  Annika was limping off in the far corner, and Juan was busy with his shin pads still.  I watched resentfully as he did some tuck jumps and then sprinted onto the field, getting his first touch half a minute later.

"I'm sorry, Hart."  I looked to Mason in surprise.  He met my eyes, his oddly sombre.  "Sorry you didn't get a run.  I know you really wanted to."

I shrugged my one shoulder, biting back fresh regret.  "I knew I probably wasn't going to."

"It still sucks, though."