More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Seven

Come Wednesday, I was so relieved that most of the squad would be back at training that I didn't even mind the rain that was falling as I arrived at Cobham. Those from the England camp would be back, as well as Annika, Fran and some of the other European players. Olly and the South Americans would only be around for training the following day again. 

I spotted Kyle's car in the lot as I arrived and sure enough, he was waiting in the canteen with some tea as I arrived. It wasn't unusual for us to be among the first to arrive, given that Kyle and I tended to be early to almost everything. In fact, when I'd first arrived at Chelsea, Kyle was one of my first proper friends because of that reason. We always found ourselves basically alone before every session and meeting, and after all the time we spent chatting, a solid friendship started to form. When he wasn't selected for the World Cup, I'd almost been as gutted as he was. 

Kyle's face lit up as I entered the cafeteria. He was up and bounding over to hug me in no time, and I laughed as he spun me around. 

"Hey, you champ!" I cheered as he set me down. I took his shoulders and shook him dramatically. "You flipping beast, Kyle! I'm so proud of you." 

In our second qualifying game, we'd beaten Kosovo five-three, thanks to a first international hat trick from Kyle. He'd played probably the best game of his career, getting an assist under his belt too, and I'd been bursting with pride as I watched at home. 

With an embarrassed smile, he chuckled and thanked me. Quickly, though, he was asking about how my "time-off" was; his humble nature often left him out of the spotlight, but I wasn't having any of this morning. 

"My time off was boring as hell, what do you think?" Hitting him on the arm, I brought up his game again. "Tell me about the game!" 

It took a bit more encouragement, but I managed to get Kyle gushing eventually. I'd never seen him look so proud of himself, and my chest was warm with pride for my friend, who deserved some recognition for a change. 

Our team had a bad habit of overlooking Kyle, which was strange considering he was our current top goal scorer. The way we played meant that Kyle wasn't our only high scoring player, but the work he did by opening up spaces and holding up the play was so tactically important when he wasn't scoring goals, too. It felt like, because he was expected to score, no one really paid him much attention when he continually did. 

"Oh, my God, you're never going to guess who I met after the game," he suddenly cried out, his eyes glinting mischievously. 

"I'm pretty sure I can guess, because I met her, too." I grinned at the disappointment that took over Kyle's face, and then the confusion. 

"How the hell did you meet her? I only saw her because of the dinner we had afterwards." 

"Yeah, well, I was also confused," I mumbled. 

In great detail, I explained the run-in I'd had with Liv Prescott. Kyle listened keenly, and when I was midway through the story Fran arrived. I'd greeted her just as enthusiastically as I had Kyle, also congratulating her on Belgium's two wins. When Liv's name was mentioned, she was as rapt as Kyle had been and demanded I start the story again. 

"So, that was kind of strange," I finished. Kyle and Fran shared an unimpressed look, and I had to appreciate the way Fran rolled her eyes. 

"Yeah, well, she's awful," Kyle piped in. I shouldn't have been so happy to hear him say that, but the words overjoyed me. 

"Look how happy she is," Fran laughed, pointing at me. Worried at the expression that must have been on my face, I simply shrugged. "Hey, I'm here for it, don't worry." Turning to Kyle, her eyes widened expectantly. "Tell us why she's so bad."