The Ongoing Reformation of Micah Johnson

by Sean Kennedy

And Micah knew. He always knew. “My temper.”

  “You got it.”

  “I’ve seen other captains who have tempers.”

  “Yours is all-consuming, Micah. You let it take you over, and it causes you to make mistakes on the field. A captain can’t work that way.”

  “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

  “If that’s what you think, then there’s nothing I can do to help you. And you know what, Micah? I’m sick of having to fight you every day. You do something, we argue, you make promises, you break them, we argue. It’s endless.”

  When Micah didn’t answer, Dec walked away.

  Micah wanted to run after him and apologise, but he couldn’t. He just stood and watched him go.

  MICAH HADN’T even reached the building when he heard his name called out again. Was everybody in the fucking camp gunning for him right now?

  “What?” he demanded as he turned around, almost smashing his head into Kyle’s.

  “Watch it!” Kyle said.

  “You’re the one who ran into me.”

  “I didn’t think you were going to stop like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you were about to immediately take me out.”

  “I thought you were someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “Boyd.”

  “I thought maybe you would say Declan Tyler. That conversation looked pretty intense.”

  “He was just telling me what all my faults are.”

  “And he’s let you go already? I would think that convo would take another hour.”

  “Oh, fuck off.”

  But Kyle followed him. “Okay, you’re a little tetchy.”

  “A little?”

  “I take it this is about the captaincy?”

  Micah stopped and stared at him. “How do you know everything?”

  “Like I said before, I work here, and the coaches don’t notice me.”

  “And what have you heard?”

  “That this would probably be your reaction.”

  “Why?” Micah spat. “Because, as Dec said, I’ve got a temper?”

  “Kind of proving their point. They’re not wrong, are they?”

  Micah had had enough. “Can’t you leave me alone?”

  “Then stop talking to me.”

  “I will.”

  “You’re still here.”

  “I’m going.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  Micah was ready to start yelling, and he was just as surprised when a laugh escaped him.

  Kyle grinned. “See? You can work on your temper. That’s what the coaches want to see.”

  “Well, it’s too late for that now.”

  “You’ve still got a day left, and a whole other camp. That’s enough time.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “That’s bullshit. You can work on it, but you either don’t want to or think you really shouldn’t have to. Which one is it?”

  “I just don’t see why it’s seen as my overwhelming characteristic.”

  “Because that’s what people see.”

  “You don’t,” Micah pointed out.

  “Because for some strange reason you let me in.”

  “I don’t know why. I’ve known you two days.”

  Kyle thumped his chest exaggeratedly. “It’s because you’ve got the hots for me.”

  Micah laughed again. “Fuck off.”

  “I can’t help it if it’s the truth.”

  “You really are full of yourself.”

  “Pot, kettle. Listen, do you really think you should have been captain?”

  “Yes!”

  “Really?”

  “I’d be better than Boyd Davies!”

  Kyle shrugged. “He’s a piece of shit as a human being in our eyes, but he’ll be a good captain.”

  “Unless you’re gay.”

  “The sad thing is, I know that fucking football on the field is more important to him in the moment. He’ll still pass to you if it gets a goal. He’ll still want you in play.”

  “How fucking progressive.”

  “Believe me, I’m not saying it’s right. Because he’d make your life a misery off the field.”

  “And that’s not good for team morale either.”

  “I agree with you on that. But the sad thing is, that’s the state of the world at the moment. Straight people don’t see homophobia as that bad because it doesn’t affect them personally. They think we should just shake it off. But when you have a chip on your shoulder—”

  “I can’t believe you’re blaming the victim.”

  “You don’t think I have to put up with this shit too? Baseball isn’t exactly a refuge for the gay, either. But you have to play the game just as well as they do, Micah. You have to work within the system.”

  “And dismantle it from within? Yeah, that’s worked so well in the past.”

  “What else can you do? Run Davies down in the dead of night to take him out of contention? There’ll be somebody else to take his place, and they could be worse. And you still won’t be captain. You go running and screaming, with a chip on your shoulder—”

  “The size of Uluru,” Micah murmured, remembering Simon saying the exact same thing to him months ago.

  “What?”

  “Dec’s partner said that to me once.”

  “I’d have gone with the moon, but Uluru is still pretty bloody big.”

  “Yeah,” Micah agreed. “It is. I’m just sick of everything having to be such a fucking battle.”

  Kyle nodded. “Then you’ve got to stop making it harder for yourself too.”

  “I know.”

  “But sometimes you’re right.”

  “Thank you,” Micah said. “That was all I needed to hear.”

  “Really?”

  “Everyone tells me I’m wrong so often, it’s nice to hear occasionally.”

  “You are such a drama queen.”

  Micah felt the old flare rise within him again, but he bit down on his tongue to quell it. He could actually taste blood. Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with it either.

  “Maybe I am,” he said, finally.

  “Thank fuck,” Kyle said. “I was starting to think again that you were entirely humourless.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Good. Now that you’re in a better mood, put on your big boy pants and go make up with Declan. Then you go out in that match and prove to those coaches you can be captain one day.”

  Micah resisted the urge to salute Kyle. Or kiss him. Both were pretty bad options right then.

  DEC WAS sitting out on the veranda, his feet resting on the railing and his hands occupied with his phone. The guys were getting ready on the oval—some were doing stretches and some jogging in order to warm up their limbs in the brisk morning air.

  “Writing your newsletter?” Micah asked from behind Dec.

  Dec actually jumped. “Fuck, Micah!”

  “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

  “No, I’m jumping for fun. Are you here to argue some more? Or are you just going to kill me now?”

  So Dec still wasn’t happy with him. And Micah probably wasn’t going to improve that anytime soon. “I just want to know one thing.”

  “I’ll try my best to answer you. But if it’s anything to do with geography, you have to consult Google.”

  “Remember what I said about Simon rubbing off on you?”

  “So you say, so you say.” Dec finished his text and set his phone to the side, giving Micah his undivided attention. “What is it you want to know?”

  “Did you support me when it came to choosing the captain’s list?”

  Dec sighed. “It had to be that question. Can I answer something else than that?”

  “No, I want to know. Did you?”

  “Sometimes you can’t be someone’s friend, even when they are your friend. You have to make a hard decision. You have to make the right decision. That’s what a captain has t
o do.”

  And Micah could see it in his eyes: the man Dec was on the field. Friendly Dec was gone, replaced with a cold logician with a steely gaze. Who did what was best for the team, regardless of individual feeling. Micah wasn’t sure if he respected him or hated him in that moment.

  “Well, you see, I wouldn’t know. I’m not a captain.”

  “Not right now you’re not.”

  “Because you chose a bigot over me.”

  “Actually, I didn’t,” Dec said. “I don’t think Boyd Davies should be captain either. But I was outvoted. I actually voted for your friend Jack.”

  “Jack?” Micah didn’t want to sound so shocked, but Jack hadn’t exactly expected himself to be captain material either.

  “Yes. He’s not the best player, granted. But the captain should never be chosen on the basis of who plays the best. They have to lead through example and be able to manage the team. I think Jack has those qualities, and he exemplifies what a captain is far better than you or Boyd at the minute.”

  Micah couldn’t disagree with that, really. And at least Dec hadn’t voted for Boyd. It meant he still had integrity, although it didn’t help either of them much.

  “Neither of you deserve to be captains for different reasons right now.”

  “But they still voted Boyd in and overruled on the fag.”

  “I can’t guess at their reasoning, except I know one thing. Boyd still thinks of the game. You don’t. You carry grudges. At the moment, Micah, I could see you going on the field and refusing to handball to Boyd when he has a clear shot at goal just because you dislike him. That’s not teamwork.”

  “Neither is harassing one of your teammates.”

  “No. But unfortunately he has enough going for him that I think he would still pass you the ball.”

  Fuck, it was exactly what Kyle had said to him, even if he was only repeating what he heard the coaches say. “Even if he’s a heinous human being?”

  “Yes. Even if he is a heinous human being.” Dec gave a small smile.

  “You talk to me like I’m Simon sometimes.”

  “Is that a bad thing? I’m just used to talking people down off the ledge.”

  “I’m not on the ledge.”

  “Micah, you have your toes curling over the precipice.”

  “Okay.”

  “Anyway, Simon does it for me too.”

  “Really? When are you ever on the ledge?”

  “A lot of the time. You think I like this bullshit any more than you do? You don’t think it was a punch in the gut to me when they chose Davies?” Dec glowered, and Micah could finally see that the obvious dismissal of Boyd’s homophobia burned him as well. “I’m still not going to say that I think you should have got it, because you’re not ready. But Davies isn’t ready either. Not until he can accept his teammates for who they are. Because divisions during the game will surface, no matter what. And a divided team will never win.”

  “So what are you saying I should do? I obviously can’t change Boyd’s mind about me.”

  “Maybe you can’t. Maybe you can. Maybe sometime in the future when he’s playing professionally, he’ll just have to suck it up. But you have to find a way to work with it right here, right now.”

  “That’s what I’m asking you.”

  “But maybe you have to discover that for yourself.”

  “Great. Thanks. You’re as helpful as a psychiatrist, just asking people how they feel and never giving any advice.”

  Dec’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it. “Okay. Point taken. It’s different for everyone, but you know what worked for me?”

  “Alcohol?”

  “Funny. Having good friends. Relying on them. Talking to them. And don’t give me that bullshit about how you don’t have any, Micah. You have more than you think, and now you’ve started letting them back into your life, you have far more than you had six months ago.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

  “And above all else—”

  “What?”

  “Be the best player you can be. Nothing pisses off your enemies more than you being better than them.”

  And Micah saw yet another flash of the player Declan Tyler used to be: the quiet achiever who dominated the field with a cool and casual levelheadedness that was sometimes mistaken for arrogance.

  Micah wanted to be just like that. But his greatest fear was that he was too volatile to ever achieve it.

  Dec yawned, his long arms stretched over his head. “I better call Simon again. He was on my back about having to sort things out with you. As if I wasn’t going to do it.”

  Simon was still being nice to Micah, even after all the grief he’d caused—and still continued to cause. He and Dec truly were gluttons for punishment. “Say hi to him for me.”

  “Will do.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  “Hey, Micah?”

  “What?”

  “Can I just give you one last bit of advice?”

  “For ever or just for today?”

  “Knowing you, probably just for this hour.”

  Micah sighed. “Is this about me always fighting with you?”

  Dec shook his head. “No, I’ve just come to expect that of you.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder, I promise. I don’t mean to fight with you all the time. It’s just….”

  “What?”

  “I really respect your opinion, and I don’t like you thinking badly of me.” It came out in a rush, and he saw Dec’s eyes widen at the honesty.

  “I don’t think badly of you, Micah. Honestly.” Dec tapped his phone against his palm. “Sometimes I don’t like what you do, and I wish you would do things differently instead of always doing the same bloody thing over and over again when you know it’s not going to make things better, but I don’t think badly of you.”

  “Oh.” Micah stood there, unable to move, just letting the warmth of Dec’s words ride over him. “Okay. So what were you going to say before? Hit me with your best shot.”

  Dec looked as if he thought he may have been pushing it a little, after this tender moment, but he did it regardless. “You say you know, but you have to understand that recruiters are ruthless. They want an all-rounder, and that’s somebody who can be a brilliant player and a good team player. They’re already talking about you, Micah.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “Nothing I haven’t already told you before. They know how good you are at the game. But they’re worried about your attitude. If anything stops you from being drafted, and I’m saying if because really, I don’t think you’re going to be overlooked, but if one thing stands in your way, that’s going to be it.”

  Micah felt the sting of angry tears, but he swallowed them down. “Okay. So tell me what to do.”

  “You know what to do. I’ve said it a million times.”

  “Don’t rise to the bait,” Micah said. It was oft-told but seldom regarded advice, and he didn’t have to think very hard to know this was the answer Dec wanted.

  “And what else?” Dec asked.

  “Show them I can be part of a team. Be the best.”

  “Let’s just work on the first part right now. That’s what they’re watching for.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, and Micah?”

  “What?”

  “I know you and Simon both love your sarcastic repartee with others, but when you go in for the psychological tests….”

  “What?”

  “Please pretend to be someone else.”

  This actually made Micah laugh. “That might be the best piece of advice you’ve ever given me.”

  “Just listen to it for once.”

  “Thanks, Dec.”

  “See you later.”

  As Micah walked off, he heard Dec on the phone. “Hey, babe. … Yes, I’ve spoken to him. … When am I ever not nice to him? … Okay, Simon….”

  Micah smiled and left Dec to his privacy.

  Cha
pter 13

  IT TURNED out he was late for warm-up, and Boyd wasn’t too happy with him—even more so than usual.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded as soon as Micah met up with them on the field. “You were meant to be here ten minutes ago.”

  All thoughts of being good were instantly dismissed. “What’s it to you?”

  “I’m the captain.” Boyd seemed to think that meant everything.

  “I didn’t need reminding. I also didn’t know cruise director was your job.”

  Boyd’s eyes narrowed. “Is that some sort of gay joke?”

  Micah was about to ask him how exactly he knew what cruising was, but Boyd continued without waiting for a response. Micah shrugged, deciding Boyd was probably the type who thought everything was some sort of aspersion on his sexuality.

  “It’s my job to make sure we’re doing what we’re told to do. And that involves being on the field when we’re meant to be.”

  “For someone who is so stuck on the rules, weren’t you the one who snuck in a bottle of Jack and had it after dinner the first night of camp?” Micah looked at the other boys for support. “How quickly they forget once they taste power.”

  There was no sign of support from the other boys crowded around them.

  “How would you even know that?” Boyd asked.

  “I know I’m not one of the popular kids, but I’m not blind.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If you were captain, you could try and bust my arse for that, but you’re not, are you?”

  Micah went for the obvious. “I could try to bust your arse, but I think you would enjoy it too much.”

  There were some snickers from the cheap seats, but Micah ignored them.

  “What the fuck are you saying?” A vein was throbbing on Boyd’s neck.

  Micah was amused more than anything.

  Jack jumped up from where he was squatting on the grass. “No need to make this any worse, guys.”

  Micah smiled at Boyd. “He’s right.”

  “Where were you?” Boyd asked again, slowly.

  “Seeing Declan. You can go and ask him if you like.”

  “That’s right. The batty boys gotta stick together.”

  Micah lunged forward but Jack caught him.

  Now it was Boyd who was grinning maliciously. “Everything all right, Johnson?”