Chapter 7
Matchday ... Saints and Suns match day that was, and I was due at the media box for the Saints’ game at eleven o’clock. Sasha and I had organized to meet in the parking lot fifteen minutes earlier than usual to transfer the dress from her car to mine. I couldn’t wait to wear it; I was nervous just thinking about the night – nervous-crazy, excited that is. Plus, I was kind of hoping The Russian might find his way to the media box to say ‘hello’ today. That would mean he was thinking of me and I wasn’t just a bet he had lost, making him go to the Ball tonight.
I drove into the parking lot and saw Sasha there, waiting by her car. She always looked so eccentric – a classic car, a mod haircut, she was an original. She waved, opened her car boot and pulled out a long dress covered in a white plastic sheet ... at least I was hoping there was a dress in there. I pulled my car into the parking spot next to hers and turning it off, I leaped out; I couldn’t see the dress itself but I couldn’t wait to slip it on.
“Sorry, were you waiting long?” I asked.
“About a minute,” she assured me. “Ta da!”
I grinned at her as she carried the dress to my open back door.
“Sash, I can’t wait to wear it, what would I do without you? Thank you, thank you,” I gushed.
She grinned and we settled the dress across the seat.
“I’ve transferred the funds to your bank account,” I assured her.
She waved her hand. “All good. Now I want the scoop ... the least you can do is send me a photo of the two of you before you leave home and let me have the first tweet ... I am the Saints’ media officer after all, as well as the designer.”
“The least I can do,” I agreed, excited that she even wanted the shot. “I’ll have my flatmate Josh take the shot and send it to you straight away. Plus, I’ll promote your label, I promise. Thanks again Sash. If I can ever return a favor ...”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she said, then she narrowed her eyes. “There is one small thing, a favor sort of ...” she said.
“Sure, anything.”
She moved to her car, locked it and leaning on it, crossed her arms across her chest. “I want to know how The Russian gets to the coffee van before the rest of us. He always knows when it is coming and beats me every day in the office.”
I laughed. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, I bet he gets a text in advance from Wendy our coffee van lady, but they’re both saying nothing,” Sasha said.
“I’m onto it,” I said, assuring her that my investigation would be intense. “Just call me Scoop.”
“Thanks Scoop,” she grinned, and moved away from the car. “I’ll see you in the media box soon. I’ve got to go meet a journo in the training rooms.”
“Sure,” I said, giving her a wave as my phone rang. It was my boss asking if I’d do a few TV crosses as well as my newspaper and online pieces. Our sister company’s journo had called in sick. Yes! Well bad for them, but good for me. A few pieces-to-camera would be good to mention when I had my job interview tomorrow for the basketball commentator role. I raced up the stairs to the media box, and found Dave, an online reporter setting up. We made a bit of small talk as I set up my laptop and then I quickly freshened up my makeup and raced downstairs again to meet the television camera crew. They wanted the first piece to be a generic story before the game, then an update at half-time and a wrap at the end of the game. Easy.
I found the crew, we picked a location which showed the crowds pouring in behind me and the cameras rolled. I swear I must have done something good in the world, because Karma caught up with me. Just as I started to wind up, someone approached me—that was pretty normal, people always ran up to cameras and carried on—walking within a foot of me on his way to the training room was Captain Fantastic – Lucas Ainswright. The cameras caught him and he greeted me by name. Go my CV!
“The Saints Captain himself, Lucas Ainswright,” I said, grabbing him, talking to the camera. “How do you feel about today’s game Lucas?”
“We’re in good shape, we’ve got our Defender, Eddie Mosley back from injury, and our track record against the Chicago Cats is solid.”
“Thanks Captain,” I said, as he squeezed me on the shoulder and kept walking. “That’s the Saints Captain Lucas Ainswright. Today’s match starts at one p.m. and you can watch it right here on the Sports Channel.”
“And we’re out,” the cameraman said. “Nice one. Friends in high places, huh?”
I grinned. “All in the timing,” I said. I looked around, no sign of The Russian yet; I just needed to see him, a glimpse would do. I organized a time to meet the camera crew at half-time for a rundown on the match thus far and returned to the media box. Sasha was there when I got back, along with Dan from K-talk radio, and a few of the other online journos that I had seen at our Suns games but not met yet. We introduced each other. They asked me all the inevitable questions about my injury – if I was going to return, did I think the Suns would make it to the finals, blah, blah, blah.
I couldn’t focus; I just wanted The Russian to drop in. Or Nik to come up and see Sasha and maybe The Russian would come along with him. But in my heart of hearts I knew he wouldn’t come to the media box ... I wouldn’t either. If I was playing that day, I would be totally in the zone ... I wouldn’t allow any distractions, there was too much at stake. Damn him. But at least it would make tonight even more special ... I’d be dying to see him by the time he came to pick me up for the Ball, if I hadn’t died from withdrawal symptoms by then – I was so not dramatic at all.
My laptop was open, I had the Facebook and Twitter pages open for the media groups that I fed and I had the Suns Twitter page open so I could watch the results from my team as they came through ... well, I hoped the girls would win, it would make for a better night at the Ball. I looked at the clock – fifteen minutes until the match started so no hope of seeing The Russian now. Thank God Sasha wasn’t a girly-girl and didn’t ask me a whole lot of questions, I was already on that thin wedge of love, fear and loss. I was totally taken by The Russian and I knew I was up for the biggest fall if it wasn’t mutual ... and I was pretty sure it wasn’t.
*****
By half-time there was good news, great news and brilliant news. The good news – my beloved Suns were well in the lead and looked like they were going to bring the match home ... it relieved my guilt that I couldn’t be there, but also made me feel a little superfluous. Such is the life of a professional athlete I guess. I hated not being there but the team understood work was work and we weren’t paid the big salaries like the male sports stars, we had to take it when we could.
The great news was that the Saints were comfortably in front ... in soccer, a couple of goals was super comfortable, and the Chicago Cats were in bad form. I did look at other players besides The Russian, honest, but he was having a great game so I was forced to look at him a lot – just one of the things you had to endure as a sports journo. It also meant he would be on high tonight if they won ... a win-win all round.
The brilliant news—I know I saved the best for last—is that The Russian acknowledged me. It might not sound like much but it was huge ... really huge. At the end of half-time as the team went to their respective tunnels and training rooms, he glanced up at the media box. I swear he looked right at me, right through me and gave me just the hint of a smile. I almost forgot to tweet the halftime score I was so excited. Once I stopped blushing and my breathing returned to normal, I raced downstairs to meet the camera crew and do the half-time piece. The day was looking up – even in the middle of a high-pressure match, Alex was thinking of me. I would feed on that for hours until he arrived at my door that night in that mind-blowing tux and we would make some more unique memories.