More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Twenty One

My alarm rang much too soon the next morning. I knew we still had to eat and get on a plane back to England, but the early start seemed unnecessary. Judging by the complaints heard at breakfast and on the bus ride to the airport, it was clear that the team shared my sentiments, too. 

The return to English soil was a sweet relief, and the arrival back at St George's even more so. Thankfully, we were only training later that afternoon, so there was time to relax a bit before we launched into prepping for our next game. I spent the time in the common room with three of the other girls playing some cards. 

Trudging back onto the pitch was harder than I thought it was going to be. My ego was still bruised from my performance the other day, and as a result my touches lacked confidence, my passing was under par and my morale was nowhere near where it should have been. I had wanted so badly to put the game behind me and move on, but it was proving to be tougher than I expected. Mason had tried several times to boost me up in the training, but even his good mood hadn't managed to lift my foul one. 

I tactically avoided the chatty teammates once we were finished and instead kept my head down on the way to the pool. When I felt a hand coming down on my shoulder, I expected it to be Mason or Kyle or someone else checking up on me. The last person I anticipated meeting the eyes of when I looked up was Gareth. 

"Hello, Rebecca," he greeted me, shooting me a comforting smile. I wanted to return it, but my stomach had instantly knotted, worried about why the coach would be confronting me. "Can we have a word?" 

Tears prickled the back on my throat, but I forced myself to nod. I cursed myself for being one of the first to leave the pitch, because now my teammates were all walking past me, eyeing Gareth and I out unashamedly. I swallowed back my pride and faced my coach, though, trying to ignore the prying eyes and ears. 

I had always respected Gareth as a coach. He was quieter than a lot of other coaches I'd had in the past, so I knew that whenever he did have something to say, it would be worth listening to – like right now. 

"I just wanted to check up on you, Beck," he started, his voice lowered. "You haven't been yourself today." 

I swallowed again, trying to arrange my thoughts. There were so many things that I could have said to him and could have asked him, yet I was at a loss for words. I opened my mouth, but closed it when nothing came out. A moment passed. I cleared my throat, opened my mouth again, but was interrupted before I could say anything. 

"I know it wasn't your best game yesterday, and that's okay." I met Gareth's sympathetic eyes, waiting for him to carry on speaking with my heart in my mouth. "I think we both know that yesterday wasn't a reflection of how you play." He paused for a moment. "Look, why don't you cool down and come find me in an hour or so and we can chat properly then." 

I nodded eagerly. "I'd like that, please." 

Gareth smiled, rested a comforting hand on my shoulder and then returned to the other coaches that were standing in the middle of the pitch. 

Some of the stragglers were on their way inside still, so I walked slowly behind them. Butterflies fluttered in my gut at the thought of talking to Gareth later, but I knew that offloading some of my woes to him would be worthwhile at the end of the day. I just needed to get the confidence to actually say what I wanted to.

***

I felt miles better the next morning than I had the previous day. The thought of training no longer intimidated me, but rather excited me. Gareth had inspired a newfound confidence in me that was familiar from the World Cup, and feeling it again was better than I could have appreciated.