by C. J. Lau
Chapter 17
Round 6: Bathurst.
Cat isn’t the person to sit still during a hockey match. After a few minutes she’s on her feet, close to the sideline, shouting encouragement. By now I am much less a bundle of nerves, but my preference is still to sit on the bench, analyse the action, and listen to the chatter of my reserves to get a feel for things.
And yet, I still can’t shake the notes. GET OUT OF TOWN, the third one. Well here I am, a long way from home, for a purpose. And every intention of returning a winner.
Sam plays the game of her life as our opponents struggle to find their feet. For 20 minutes we bully them, tackling hard when needed, attacking at will through retreating defence. Sam sets up Debbie for the first goal before scoring two of her own. Nancy chiming in with a goal from a Penalty corner to make it four.
“Wow, Sam’s on fire,” I hear them say. “Yeah, giving up the Captaincy was a great move.”
And I can’t hide my smile, hearing, “Maggie knows what she’s doing.” Even when our opponents finally get into the match with a Penalty corner goal.
Sam’s scrambling now, double-teamed.
“Move!” I stand up, shouting at her. “Attack to create space!” Point to the top of the shooting circle.
But some wayward shooting and three brilliant saves keeps Bathurst in it. An infuriated Cat pulling me aside. “I want words with the attack at half-time.” Her hand sweeping the field. “They’re getting too fancy.”
“Go easy, Cat,” I warn. “This isn’t an elite match.”
She doesn’t hear me, something on the field catching her attention. “Oh, come on, how is that a corner?” Carol awarding Bathurst another Penalty corner.
I can’t help but laugh at the scene. Cat continuing to argue until Carol points, orders her to sit down.
Cat plonks herself on a seat beside me, complaining. “She’s not my friend right now.”
“I’m glad she takes her job seriously,” I say between giggles. “You’ll make up afterwards.”
But despite my laughter, I wish Solo and I could’ve settled our differences as easy as Carol and Cat. If only our love had been as strong as their friendship.
I startle Cat by reaching for her, grateful she’s here to squeeze back.
“Last play before half-time,” Carol gets in position. Her shout bringing me back to my purpose here.
I watch intently, Brooke joining Felicity, Vivienne, and Sarah in goals with Christina to defend.
Our opponents play the ball in. Four defenders sprinting out to cover the angles. Ball going to the girl who scored the first goal, winding up to shoot. “Too much power, too much power. Don’t forget to aim,” I mutter to myself, as the ball leaves her stick.
“Look out Brooke!” Cat shouts, on her feet again.
I’ve been there before, playing for Wollongong Uni, putting too much focus on hitting the ball hard, and not enough on aiming it. Normally the ball ends up miles wide, and this one’s going into the crowd, except first—
I watch in horror. No time for Brooke to avoid the missile. Just turn from it, protecting herself. The ball cannoning into her knee. The look of shock on her face sends me onto the field. Running. So close I see her knee twist awkwardly on landing, then give way completely. Leaving behind a collapsed, screaming pile of agony.
I make it by Brooke’s side.
Carol blows half-time, runs in to join us.
Looking down at Brooke’s leg, confirming my worst fears of damage. An angry lump where the ball impacted. Her hands grabbing the inside of her leg and kneecap.
I push my own panic away. “Brooke, it’s Maggie,” I try again, louder, “Brooke? Look at me! You’re going to be fine.”
I know I’m lying. She’ll survive, yes, but her season? I dare not consider it.
Carol helps me carry her off the field. A hush falling over the festival as Brooke’s screams slowly fade.
A look back to the field shows me the crestfallen face of the Bathurst girl who fired that wayward shot. I’ll need to console her later. Not her fault. But right now I have bigger concerns.
My look of worry is mirrored by Nancy’s mum. Standing, ushering us to a vacant chair. Only once Brooke is safely in her hands do I see Cat. A horrified look on her face, clutching at her own knee.
With Brooke in safe hands I walk to Cat. “You alright?”
She nods, grimacing. “Poor girl.”
The rest of the girls come to the sideline. We’re leading 4-1, and I wish the game could end now.
“There’s not much we can do until we get back home,” Nancy’s mum says to Brooke. “It’s going to swell up, but don’t worry, you will be fine. I’ll put some ice on it. We’ll give you something for the pain.”
Cat walks into the forming huddle of girls, smart enough to know the mood has changed. Replacing the lecture about being too fancy with encouragement, and a reminder to keep focused on what they can control. “Keep it up, girls. I have a surprise for you if you win.”
I’m too close to tears for words. Speaking briefly, my voice grim and forced. “Stay focused.”
Then I hand it over to Nancy. Who acts without hesitation, calling the most senior 11 players onto the field for the second half. The same starting 11 who’d taken the field against Cootamundra, when this journey began.
Great plan, Nancy. I admire. Fall back on experienced heads when circumstances leave us rattled. The first-game Captain with the hardest job in the world right now.
The second half is dour. And we’re a major reason for that. Listless. Moving the ball around, defending when we need to. Saved by the fact our opponents are equally stunned, the enthusiasm and momentum they built leading up to half-time gone.
Cat sits close to Brooke all half, pointing out her own knee injury, trying to encourage her.
“We’re going to make a head start on the bus,” Cat says in my ear, and I know it’s because these two injured warriors want somewhere private to weep.
All I can offer is a nod, wishing for something to add, but words fail me. Six rounds in and I still get lost for words too easily for my liking.
So I focus on the match. Surely a win will ease the pain? Grow my confidence even more.
Bathurst are rewarded for a period of sustained effort with a goal in the closing stages. But full time blows with us victorious 4 – 2. A dominant victory and a devastating loss all at once.
I make sure to shake everyone’s hand, reassure the crestfallen Bathurst striker that Brooke will be fine. ”Accidents happen,” I mouth, and “It wasn’t your fault.”
Then, finally, we pull out and head home.
I’ve never been gladder to leave a place in my entire life. Our driver then delivering more bad news. For our own safety we’ll be taking the main highway home instead of the narrow country road that had taken us here. This will add an hour to the trip.
Kathy’s words scroll across my mind. “Every team needs luck,” she’d said, face turning grim in a more sombre aspect of the master class. “Regardless of how good they are.” Then turning to the photo of the victorious ’96 team. Cat and I featuring prominently. “But the champion teams find a way, even when luck is against them.”
Brooke, now an unexpected focal point of our playing style, is badly hurt. Team plans so carefully made, now obsolete with one wayward shot.
Kathy never told me how Champion teams win without luck. I ponder, tuning out of the girls’ chatter. Bathurst disappearing for the sight of open countryside. Maybe some things can’t be taught.
The girls agree unanimously on a food stop in Cowra. And the local McDonalds staff hardly hide their surprise as our smelly, hungry group storm through their doors. Mobile reception for the first time in an hour giving me the opportunity to call Brooke’s parents, who react frantically.
“It’s going to be okay. We stabilised her and she’s able to put some weight on it again,” I reassure them, “just take her to the hospital tomorrow since it will be late by the time
we get back.” We say goodbye and hang up.
I sit down next to Brooke, picking at her burger with a brave face on. Cat’s walking stick leaning by her side.
“Are you hanging in, Champ?”
“It’s starting to throb,” Brooke replies, cracks appearing in her resolve. “I heard it go pop before I twisted it again when I landed.”
On replaying the scene in my head, my appetite disappears too.
Words finally come. “It’s going to be okay. We’re almost home. I spoke to your parents. They’ll take you to get checked out. Hang in there.”
“It’s so unfair, Coach. My season’s over. Just as I’m starting to make an impact!” A tear rolls down her cheek.
I remember these feelings well. Another terrible scene flashing back. Ian’s call. “Maggie, Cat’s been in a terrible accident.” Hopelessness making everything feel hollow.
I can’t lie and tell Brooke everything will be fine. False hope, in my mind, is worse than no hope at all. The hospital will confirm the severity and prognosis tomorrow.
Cat seems to sense my thoughts. Stops giggling with Nancy and Sarah to step over to Brooke’s table. Seeing Cat walking normally reminds me what help I can be. No need for me to keep my teacher-student distance, hundreds of kilometres from the school, sitting in a McDonalds on a Saturday afternoon.
I can be a friend, just like I am to Cat. I decide.
“Let’s consider what I know about knee injuries,” I say to Brooke, busying herself, drying tears with a napkin. “The ball hit the outside of your knee, pushing your knee joint inwards.” My voice calming as the PE teacher takes over. “Assume nothing’s broken. At worst, you’re looking at a medial tear. That’s what? Six to eight weeks?” I stop for a moment. Know I’ve made a lot of assumptions. “There’s a chance you can still be part of things! Provided you stick with whatever recovery plan they put in for you, and it isn’t an ACL.”
The Anterior Cruciate Ligament, ACL, means a long term knee injury. Bringing it up probably a mistake, but an intact ACL is the only hope she has of playing again this year. The absolute worst case scenario; that she’s broken her leg around the knee, means surgery and a cast. Not worth bringing up.
“It’s not your ACL,” Cat chips in. “I’ve seen team-mates do their ACL and you have not done yours.” She lowers herself next to Brooke. “Probably a medial, or maybe a small fracture in there. September State 8’s is a definite possibility. Plus, while you recover, you might get a hot guy physio running his hands down your leg.”
Brooke laughs at the sexy face Cat pulls, rubbing her own leg. Soon the whole table is laughing.
“Okay, girls. Let’s go!”
“Thanks, Cat,” I say to her as we board. “By the way, whose ACL did you see?”
“No one, but I saw what you were doing and I know she can’t have done her knee that badly,” she answers. “Just trying to cheer her up.”
“Thanks. By the way,” I remind her. “The girls won and you promised a surprise.”
“Yes, I did.”
We pull back onto the highway heading south. Cat standing up with backpack in hand. The sun setting across her face makes her look angelic.
“Hey, Team, listen up!” Cat calls out, withdrawing a small case from her bag. “Before we stick the movie back on, there’s something I want to show you. I didn’t get this out in Bathurst, as nice as they were to me.” Cat grins, opening the case to reveal her gold medal. “But I want you all to see it.” A gasp from the girls as they stare.
“Let me pass this around so you can have a closer look. Keep in mind it’s valuable. Handle with caution. Insurance company spiel, blah blah blah.”
Cat hands it to Brooke first, who stares, awestruck, in wonder for a few seconds. “Try it on if you want,” Cat encourages her. Then it starts making its way around.
Carol stands, watching the medal like a hawk as it went from one girl to the next. And Cat’s words are pure escapism for me, with a different nervous energy building the closer I get to home.
“This is where it all started,” Cat began her story, swaying as the bus rolls on. “Road trips with team-mates like Carol, and Maggie—” My eyes go to Cat’s face, concern at her sudden stop. Her face hasn’t drooped like she’s lost her thread. Instead, she seems deep in reflection.
Something about her changes when she starts talking again. But I can’t put my finger on it. “You play so well together,” she nods at Sam, then Nancy. “It was wonderful to watch, I really believe this year you can go all the way.” The medal making its way through the girls’ hands. “I’ll be around for more games, plus the State 8’s, if Maggie lets me. Let’s bring the Championship trophy home.”
There’s no doubt I’ll be asking Mr Ripley to give Cat some official capacity here. And he’ll sign it off, just like he signed off Carol, because he wants to win as badly as I do.
But for now, my unofficial assistant looks spent, barely keeping her balance as the bus rides a bump in the highway. Her eyes not leaving the girls.
“Cat. Can you tell us about your accident?” Sarah asks.
Sam and Carol draw in their breath, Angela punching her sister’s arm. “Don’t be nosey!”
Sarah shrinks back, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be, Sarah,” Cat smiles, takes another moment.
“I was involved in a serious helicopter accident in England at the beginning of the year.” It only takes one sentence for me to realise I’m not ready to hear this story. But I do my best to smile and encourage Cat as she recounts how the accident took the lives of Trisha and the pilot, leaving her in a coma.
She even finds words for her own despair. “There was one day when I gave up. I wanted to stop breathing and go the other way instead. My heart slowed down as much as I could make it.”
Unexpected tears fill my eyes. Remembering the phone call. Kathy’s advice to stay positive and focus on the Cowra match instead of flying over. Still Cat’s story continues.
“Then something happened… I heard my parents calling out, mum’s voice as clear as day. They said they still believed in me. That all was not lost. That I could come back to Goulburn and reclaim my former glory. But first I had to open my eyes.”
I picture Ian and Georgia. Beaten down and stressed by their daughter’s tragedy, but never losing hope. Is that the kind of Coach I need to be?
I drift back to Cat’s story, a small grimace forming on her face. “…It was awful pain, full of pins and needles and waves of stabbing from here.”
Cat pointing to her knee guard. The surgery scars still visible. Then reaching out for my hand. Taken through my tears.
“Then an angel flew over to help me. Thank you for everything, Maggie.”
A moment of silence lets the story sink in, accompanied by a few sobs from Carol, Sam, and Sarah. I want to hug Cat with every ounce of my strength. But her story’s not done. “My point was not to make Sam cry, as funny as that can be sometimes,” drawing a laugh from some of the others. “But I have been through my own disaster and survived to tell the story.”
She looks straight at Brooke as she says that part, before turning back to the group. “I have been where you are today. As a team you need to lift each other up. Your brain, your attitude, is going to be the most important battle to win from now on.” She points at her own head, and I know how fiercely her own battle is raging in there. “If your brain is in the right place then your body will follow. I love how every single one of you came up to Brooke today to check she was okay. That is what a team should look like, be it the Australian team or the under-12s. Be strong for each other and never give up. That’s what champions do. What I want you all to aspire to do.”
Has Cat just answered the question Kathy had not? Champion teams find a way to win when luck is against them, just by being strong for each other.
Is it that simple?
And was the secret to Coaching success winning my own battles first?
Applause from the bus brings my mind back
to the present. Cat sitting down next to me again. I get my hug in.
“You made me cry too,” I say. “That was amazing.”
“You’re welcome, Maggie. I owe you so much.” Cat hugs back.
The medal returned to her. No movie possibly able match the speech she delivered. But the comedy chosen will keep them entertained.
“How’s the job hunting going?” I ask. We’ve spoken precious little in the weeks since her return. My day job taking over, along with everything else.
“Found a job. A few jobs actually. I write a sport column for the local paper from next week, plus I’m working at the regional tourism office answering phones and stuff. They want me leading tours and giving talks.” She points at the scar on her face. “But I’m not sure this is going to let me do that with any confidence.”
I bring up my thoughts from the airport. “Have you thought about surgery? I’m sure they could do something.”
Cat nods. “I’m thinking it might be a good idea. Not sure where I would find the money though.”
I move closer to whisper. “Think about it. I’m sure they can work something out if money is the only issue.”
They really meaning the Keene’s, and other’s willing to bankroll Cat’s success, whatever it takes.
“No worries, Maggie. Thanks for inviting me, seeing the look in the girl’s eyes is the best thing. It’s going to be a long time before I play again.”
There’s just too much sadness in her voice. I need to say something. Pick the first thing that comes to mind. “Anytime, Cat. How’s the rehab going?”
“The physio has me jogging again. Only slowly on a treadmill, but she wants to look at my action to make sure I’m not overcompensating,” Cat replies. “It hurts like hell afterwards.”
“I’ll be strong for you, Cat.” I hug her again. “Hang in there.”
“Thanks, Maggie. You’re the best friend everyone wishes they had.”