More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Two

That was thirteen months ago.  The injury turned out to be much more serious than I'd initially thought: damage to my cruciate and medial ligaments left me in a worse state than I could have ever imagined.

I had surgery five days after the game, back home in London.  After that, the darkest seven months of my life followed.  I watched my teammates enjoy the rest of their summer holiday while I spent painful hours at Cobham each day trying to get back onto my feet. When pre-season started, I had to watch from the gym as the team began preparations for the season ahead, and as time went on and the league progressed, I had to wonder if I'd ever play Premier League football again.

However, with a team of the best physios, doctors, nutritionists and trainers, I slowly but surely improved.  Come February, I had started training with the under twenty-three side.  By March, I was coming off the bench for their games and, eventually, I was starting them.  It wasn't quite the same as playing for the first team, but it was something. Meetings with Frank and my recovery team concluded that I'd finish the season with them, and come back for pre-season with the first team.

Come the end of the season, I felt back to my full strength again and so ready to move back to my rightful place in the first team.  The summer came and went in a flash and as it did, my anticipation of starting proper training again grew exponentially.  By the time our first day of pre-season came I had never been so excited in my life.

Pre-season was successful, as was our pre-season tour.  I came off the bench in most games, and the training had me tired, but I was generally fine. But then came our last game of the tour, against Barcelona.  Frank had told me he'd use it as a test to see if I was back to my full ability, seeing as it was a friendly we could afford to lose.  I started, and twenty minutes later was carried off the pitch by our medics.

A hamstring injury put me out for a further three weeks.  It was a slap in the face, and I considered throwing in the towel and quitting my career then and there.  But, once again, I focused my efforts and energy into coming back as soon as possible, and the day had finally come.

Walking out to the pitches that morning, I thought that as long as I could play again at the end of it, I'd go through the whole process again.

I'd arrived at Cobham much earlier than I needed to that day.  I had a final appointment with Stuart, our club's head medic, just to hear for sure if I'd return to normal training, but I was there thirty minutes before that, even. I'd taken the time to wander around the pitches outside; the crisp, late August air clearing my head.  There had been a lot on my mind recently, things unrelated to my injury, and I'd hardly taken time out to process them.  The walk had done me well, clearly, because as soon as I entered Stuart's office, football was my sole focus again.

Frank Straus, our manager and former Chelsea legend, had met me in the office.  I had always suspected that the gaffer had a bit of a soft spot for me, and his presence in my appointment fortified that idea.  He was particularly chatty that morning as I went through the motions with Stu at my side.  I think he was almost more excited than I was upon seeing Stu's face light up in a smile when the test was complete.

As soon as I was cleared, I rushed back to the changing rooms to pull my boots on.  The rest of the team must have just gone out, because right before I entered the room, Diego came rushing past me, throwing an apology over his shoulder. Catching a glance of myself in the mirror, I wondered if the smile on my face was going to remain there for the whole day.

Once changed and ready, I practically skipped towards the pitches.  My teammates were out and clearly ready to start, but the coaching staff were still busy setting up beacons or chatting themselves.  The mood in the team had been great thanks to two wins from our first two matches of the season.  After a hard fought win against United on Sunday, it was clear that the coaches weren't concerned if we started training a bit later: I think they knew the team deserved a bit of slack, especially given that our opponents on the weekend were a dodgy-looking Southampton side.