Page 15 of Game on, Love
I spent whatever time I could reviewing gameplays, my old ones and other matches. Picking up things I had done wrong, and things I could develop for my own game.
That was until last year.
“So, you took matters into your own hands?” The edge in my voice was gone, but the frustration still rolled off me.
Sean shifted in his chair, choosing his words carefully. “It wasn’t just about getting him involved, Ollie. It was about giving you the breathing space.”
“What?”
“Don’t get me wrong here because I get It. But you’ve been off your game ever since the Ashes squad last year. That experience should have been a stepping stone, but then came the injury, and then… everything else." He paused. "But you’ve got to be honest with yourself, mate. That injury wasn’t enough to keep you out as long as it did."
“I am fine.” I gritted out, knowing exactly what he was getting at.
I had been part of the Performance Programme last year, called up to gain experience with the Ashes squad, but I hadn’t been in the playing XI. It was all part of my development, or so they said. Then the injury happened, and I missed everything that came afterwards. Series after series slipped by as I spent time with my dad, sidelined both by injury and circumstance.
“Are you, though? You—”
“I am in the best shape I’ve ever been, and yes, my recovery time was a while, and the start of the championship was rocky, but it’s a team sport, Sean. But it doesn’t matter because we won, and I’m at the start of my career, not someone outside looking in, trying to get a footing back in the sport. I made a call that felt right to me, and I don’t regret any of it.”
He nodded, though his eyes stayed serious. “I know, but you are not just another player in the mix, Ollie. And sure, you’re ready physically. But It’s not about just your body. It’s your head. Your focus.”
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration simmering. “What do you think I’ve been doing, Sean? Sitting around twiddling my thumbs?”
“You’ve been avoiding,” He interrupted, blunt as always. “And don’t act like you haven’t. You’ve convinced yourself that taking a step forward in your career means taking a step away from your dad, and the guilt has been getting to you. That’s why I wanted you to hear from him. I knew you’d be pissed, but you’restill on the selectors’ radar, and they want to do a trial run.” Everything inside me stilled. “Sure, should I have spoken to you first? Yes, but this could be your last shot, and if your head isn’t in the right place for this one, it won’t matter how fit you are or who you are.”
The words hit harder than I wanted them to.
"You’ve got a little over a month, Ollie," Sean continued, his tone more measured now. "Take your break and get back into training. Get your head right and show the selectors what you can do. They haven’t written you off yet. But this is it. If you blow this, there’s no guarantee they’ll keep waiting for you."
I clenched my jaw, staring down at the table. He was right. There was no more room for excuses.
Sean pushed his cup aside and looked at me earnestly. "I’ve been with you since the start, mate. You know I’ve always got your back. But this? This is your shot. Your dad pulled some strings, and I know you hate that, but… if you don’t make the most of this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your career."
"I know," I muttered. "I know this is it."
Sean nodded, relief flickering across his face. "Good. So, what’s the plan?"
I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. "Train. Focus. And… fix whatever’s going on in my head."
He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Right then. I’ll leave you to your brooding. I would suggest you make the most of it today and then get your game face on. I want to see you back in that England kit where you belong.”
I gave a reluctant nod, my chest feeling a little lighter now that the tension was starting to fade.
For the first time in months, it felt like I could see a way forward. The thought of pulling on the England jersey—being part of the team again—should have been enough to drive me,but now that Sean had gone around me and involved Dad in this, I no longer had an excuse to stay where I was.
Momentarily, I wondered if this was something deeper than the guilt that loomed in my chest every time Mum called. Maybe I had been using it to hide behind it… though what exactly ‘it’ was? I wasn’t quite sure either.
With a sigh, I got up. There was a lot I needed to figure out in the next few weeks, but one thing was clear: I needed to stop getting in my own way, and that meant no distractions.
Because, ready or not, my second chance was coming. And I couldn’t afford to blow it.
THE HOUSE WAS QUIETwhen I got back, and for a second, I wasn’t sure if I needed to call for backup or not. The past 24 hours had been so chaotic that what used to be normal for us now felt almost like a stranger to me.
I walked into the living room and found her curled up on the couch with her laptop open and a black notebook resting beside her. She wore a hoodie far too big for her, probably another one of Vedant’s that she had borrowed, and a pair of yoga pants; one of her cats was draped lazily on her lap, while the other was at the other end of the room.
For a moment, I watched her—she scrunched up her nose, her eyebrows frowning as she involuntarily leaned forward towards the screen. Her full focus was on her work, and if I knew better, I would turn around and walk back up to my room without bothering her. But each time I was around her, I felt this pull inside me.
It was magnetic, and it was strange. The only other time I had felt this way was when I stepped on the pitch. With each step, a part of me felt relieved that I was listening to what wascalling me. To experience that with a person was exhilarating in ways I had never imagined before.