I WENT TO BED TOO STRESSED and tired to even think properly, which meant I hadn't turned my alarm off. The repetitive, blaring alarm tore me from my dream. Even though I rarely had dreams I wanted to remain in (typically they included public criticism given to me by Trent or my brother, or being unable to reach my dad no matter what I did), but I my bed was preferable to actually having to live my real life.

It was 7:00 when I woke up. Unable to fall back asleep, I decided to just head to my usual coffee shop. The outfit I was wearing was certainly not one I wanted a lot of people to see me in, consisting of a very old Richmond sweatshirt and a leggings. I said a small prayer that the shop wouldn't be that busy and pulled on a jacket before I began the short walk.

I still had absolutely no clue what to write for Trent. It was like I was in a cartoon and just ran into one of the walls that's painted like a tunnel. My brain was giving nothing that would actually stand out. I briefly considered maybe a recap of the season so far and my predictions for it, but that seemed stupid. Maybe an analysis of a players career so far? But who would I write about?

These thoughts continued to rush in and out of my head as I placed an order with the barista, ordering my usual one and than Lily and Jess's favorites. I stood off on the side and waited for the drinks to be done, saying a silent thanks that it wasn't all that busy.

"Sabrina!" A voice I immediately recognized as Colin's broke me away from my thoughts.

I looked up and saw his eyebrows raise slightly. I guess my darks circles were worse than I thought.

"I say this as a concerned friend," Colin said carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly on my face. "You look like pure shit. Are you okay?"

I was unsure when we had passed 'acquaintance' and entered 'friend' territory, but I didn't really mind. Colin was a nice guy, and being friend with a player on my favorite soccer team didn't seem like too bad a deal.

"I'm fine. Been better, but fine," I told him. It was a lie I had been repeating since last night. Maybe if I told myself it enough, I would begin to believe my career wasn't going to end before it really even starts.

Colin raised an eyebrow like he didn't fully believe me, but he was kind enough to not push any further on the topic.

I suddenly remembered my grandpa and I's many conversations about Richmond recently. They had a game tonight, and it wouldn't hurt to give him some motivation.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked. "As a friend."

Colin smiled slightly before he responded. "Go on."

"When are you guys going to win a fucking game? Four losses? In a row? I know you all can do better than that."

Colin made a noise that was a mix of an exhale and a laugh, but there wasn't much actual humor in it. "Yeah, it's been a bit rough lately. Some people have been a bit rough," he added the last part quietly, but I caught it. My eyebrows furrowed for a second. What could he mean?

The barista called my name and I picked up my drink carrier with three cups in it from the counter. "Well, I'll be watching tonight. I know you can pull it together." I paused and my mind flashed to the pub after every loss so far. "Please do pull it together. I don't think the boys at the pub can handle another loss."

"Do you want tickets?" Colin asked as casually as if asking about the weather. "I could set some aside for you."

"Yes!" I answered immediately before my brain could even catch up with my mouth. Of course I wanted tickets! I've only been to a couple Richmond games, and two of them were with Grandpa and Dad when I was a kid.

That's when I remembered my three coffee cups and my girls day with Jess and Lily. "Shit, wait. Ugh," I groaned, thinking for a moment. I shouldn't take the tickets without asking them first. Colin gave me a look that was mixed with confusion and bemusement. "I want the tickets, obviously, but I have this thing with my roommates... could I get back to you?"

"Yeah, of course. You could bring your roommates, too," Colin added. "Isaac's been going on and on 'bout Lily since they ran into each other again at the charity event."

I rolled my eyes in a loving manner. Of course Lily had forgotten to mention that. "I'll let you know as soon as I ask them."

He put his number in my phone and we waved goodbye. I sped walked as fast as I possibly could back to the apartment. The need to convince my roommates to go to a Richmond game and the subsequent burst of excitement carried me there at a much faster pace than normal.

"Coffee!" I called as I bumped the door open with my hip. Lily perked you from where she sat slumped on the couch. A few moments later, Jess stalked out of her bedroom with a sleepy yawn.

"You're chipper this morning," Lily said.

"Very chipper for a girl who got wine drunk and ate questionable noodles on the floor last night," Jess agreed, his voice still having that morning rasp to it.

I placed the coffee on the table and took off my jacket before explaining my interaction with Colin. I made sure to include the detail about Isaac, since that would definitely help my case. Lily was a sucker for that kind of stuff, and Jess would want to go just to see it play out.

"I told him I had to ask you guys first, but I think it's be very fun," I concluded, sipping my coffee slowly. "And I'm very stressed right now and seeing my favorite team play might spark some inspiration for me." A small smirk appeared on my lips since I knew I had convinced them.

"In what world would I say no to free tickets?" Jess asked, cracking her knuckles. "And I need to see this Isaac guy try to flirt with Lily."

I laughed slightly at her describing Isaac like that. 'Some guy' being AFC Richmond's center back. Lily's face flushed slightly at the idea. Clearly they'd hit it off a lot more at the charity event.

"Oh, shoot," Lily said suddenly. "I don't have anything to wear!"

"Oh right. Neither do I," Jess agreed. They both turned to me at the same time, quivering their lips like four year olds begging their parents for a new toy.

"Alright, you can borrow my stuff," I sighed, though I really didn't mind. We all shared enough clothes that you really couldn't tell whose was whose.

☕︎︎☕︎︎☕︎

"Did you get my package?" Mom asked when I called her later that afternoon.

I was laying on the couch, my feet tucked under Jess as she was sending out and reading emails. My feet always got cold, and she was always warm. It was a flawless system.

"Uhm," I thought out loud. Vaguely, I remembered a package coming from Mom, but I did not remember opening it. "Yeah, yeah I got it."

Better to lie than to hurt her feeling. She already complained about not seeing me enough (or ever, for that matter), so lying was the much easier alternative.

"Good! I wasn't sure which one to get you since I know you already have a bunch," she continued. What was in this package? "But Liam helped me narrow it down to the best player on the team. I'm sure even if you already have his jersey, you wouldn't mind another."

Liam being mentioned made me involuntarily exhale. Knowing he had helped Mom pick out a present was like getting confirmation that he was still alive, still my brother. He never responded to my messages, not since I moved at least. My chest felt heavy before I continued.

"I'll wear it tonight," I said, grateful that she had told me what it was without me having to talk my way around it. "Alright, I should get going. Have to get ready."

"Right, right," Mom said, but her voice was coated in what I knew was disappointment. "You ladies have fun! Maybe we'll see you on TV!"

"Right, maybe. Love you."

"Love you, Rina."

I hung up and pushed my head back into the pillows under my head. We really did have to get ready, but I had mainly hung up because I couldn't stand to talk about or to anyone for any longer. I felt like if I did, my insides would explode.

"Sab!" Lily called from my bedroom. "Is... Obisanya any good?"

She was looking through my jerseys to find a good one. I could hear her riffling through my closet. "Yeah, he's pretty solid. Needs to work on his on-field confidence but-"

"Didn't ask for an analysis, just a yes or no!"

"Why don't you wear my McAdoo jersey?"

"Fuck you!"

Jess laughed lightly. "Do you even have a McAdoo jersey?"

"No," I said, the tightness in my chest decreasing as me talked more.

Eventually, Jess went and grabbed a jersey as well (Roy Kent) and we all started to get ready. As they both went to their separate rooms to get makeup on or do their hair, I dug around my room to find the package Mom sent.

I found it stuffed under my desk. It had been opened at some point, but I couldn't remember which player was on the jersey. I reopened it and tore through the packaging. When I saw the jersey itself my chest tightened up again. It was number 9, and I knew if I flipped to the back the word 'TARTT' would be printed right above his number.

I looked up toward the sky. "You're really funny," I sarcastically told the universe.

There was no way I was wearing that. I'd wear my Hughes jersey, or one of the old ones with the 2009 team players. Surely Mom wouldn't be able to tell the difference. And then my phone vibrated, and if I listened hard enough I could faintly hear the universe laughing at me.

Mom

[4:15 PM]

Mom:
Send me a pic of you girls
together!

Hope you like the jersey. 9
is my lucky number 😄🎉

I typed out a quick response, assuring her that I'd send a picture and that of course I loved the jersey. Looked like I'd be putting up with what I had. I'd be wearing a jacket most of the time anyway. It's always cold enough for a jacket in England, especially at a soccer game.

I reluctantly put the jersey on and smoothed it out in my mirror. If it was anyone else's number plastered across my back, I would've thought I looked good in the jersey. But it was his, so I pushed those thoughts out of my brain. I finished getting ready, grabbing a Richmond scarf and my black jacket to finish it all off.

"You guys ready?" I asked out to the hallway as I quickly pulled a Richmond beanie on.

"Yeah!" Lily responded, her muffled and focused voice making it clear she was putting on makeup while answering.

"I've been waiting on you lot," Jess said, appearing in my doorway.

I rolled my eyes lovingly. She always got ready the fastest. "Did you get us an Uber?"

She nodded and checked her phone. "Should be here in five."

☕︎︎☕︎︎☕︎

Colin

[5:20 PM]

Sabrina:
We're outside the stadium

Where should I picked up
the tickets?

Colin:
Ticket booth far right
Under the name Drink Girl

Sabrina:
😐

Colin;
I'll make sure to wave to
you lot

Isaac will too, but mainly to
Lily

Sabrina:
She's reading this over my
shoulder and blushing very
bad right now

Please win so I don't go home
pissed off

☕︎︎☕︎︎☕︎

"Jesus," I muttered, triple checking our tickets. We were right next to the tunnel leading the the locker room, and about five rows away from the field. They were good seats.

"We sure this Colin guy doesn't think you're fit or something? 'Cause Christ," Jess laughed.

"Yeah! Feel like I could get hit by the ball," Lily agreed, tucking a loose hair back behind her ear.

I rolled my eyes. "No, he doesn't. We're just friends."

I didn't know why, but I knew that was true. None of the conversations I've had with Colin had seemed like he had even the remotest of interest in me. Normally, talking to a guy felt like talking to a brick wall that really liked to look down my shirt. It wasn't like that with Colin, which I was grateful for. It would suck if multiple people on my favorite team were douches.

"Hm," Jess hummed, seeming unconvinced.

I ignored her and readjusted my jacket. Although it was mainly covered up, wearing Tartt's jersey gave me every form of the heebie-jeebies possible. Like ants were crawling over my skin, or electricity was flowing through my veins where ever the jersey touched my skin.

"Still can't believe you're wearing your sworn enemy's jersey," Lily teased when she noticed my fidgeting. "It's like Juliet wearing Romeos house colors."

"It's nothing like that, since I'm not a twelve year old girl who's going to fall helplessly in love with a guy I've known for two hours and then kill myself," I retorted.

"I love when your English minor comes out."

I did best to explain Richmond's current standing (not very good) before the players came out onto the field. I cheered loudly when the team came running out of the tunnel. It felt vaguely like being an American football game again, but American football was not remotely as interesting as this. I caught Colin's eye and cheered even louder, making him laugh as he ran by.

"I saw Isaac. Do you think he saw me?" Lily asked, her hands suddenly finding their way to her hair.

"Of course he saw you," Jess replied. "He's probably out there on the field talking to his mates like 'Oi, that girls proper fit, isn't she? I'd love to score that goal.'"

A few moments pass before I see Tartt jog out of the tunnel. My friends conversation gets muffled as I zero in on him. Of course he wouldn't come out with the rest of his team. He always loved the attention. King Jamie Tartt. Savior of mankind with his excellent goal scoring abilities and confusing asshole personality.

The game started, and almost immediately my hopes for a game where we actually won were crushed. Within the first two minutes, the other teams striker managed a breakaway down into the our defensive zone. He made a flawless pass over to a midfielder and sunk it straight into the net.

"Oh, come on Richmond!" I yelled as if anyone on the field could actually hear me.

Being able to see the game happening right in front of me was providing me with things I hadn't picked up on before. Richmond was disorganized. They weren't playing together, just next to each other. If the defense had communicated or even just being paying closer attention to their teammates actions, neither that breakaway nor goal would've happened.

This repeated again four minutes later, a midfielder sinking yet another goal into the net. The unbiased journalist in me appreciated the beautiful goal, but the extremely biased and hate-filled Richmond fan in me let loose a series of curses.

"Wanker! Wanker! Wanker!" The crowd echoed, pointing towards where Ted stood on the side lines.

"Wanker! Wanker!" Jess and Lily joined in before I put out my hand in a silent way to tell them to not.

"Come on. We can curse him later," I said. No matter how little he knew about soccer, I couldn't bring myself to hate on Ted or his coaching abilities. He was too sweet a guy.

I scanned the field again and noticed our offense was even more detached than our defense. How were we meant to score anything when our entire team was playing individual games? This added fuel to my idea that the poor performance of Richmond this season was not entirely Ted's fault. The team themselves weren't playing like a team.

"Come on, Boys!" I yelled out again.

My words were in vain, since for the next twenty minutes it was a stalemate. At least our defense had seemed to wake up, but they still weren't making any connecting passes up to midfield. As much as I couldn't stand the guy, I knew they needed to figure out a way to get the ball to Tartt.

If he could pull his head out of his own ass, that was.

As if my prayers were being answered from above, movement began moving out of our half and towards midfield. A pass was made from someone to someone else who I couldn't recognize in the blur of players. It was intercepted briefly before Tartt came flying out of no where, intercepting it once again and taking off down to the net.

He weaved in-and-out of player, Obisanya following out wide to his right. He could easily pass it over to Sam. I prayer silently that whatever happened the ball just went in the damn net.

Tartt ignored the option of a pass and continued barreling into the box, sending it flying into the upper right corner of the net. The stands erupted in cheers as players celebrated.

I found myself cheering despite myself. Yeah, the guy was an annoying asshole, but he also was a hell of a player. I'd be stupid (and, frankly, not a very good sports journalist) to not see that. The guy was a prick, but he was unstoppable on the pitch.

"Jamie Tartt, do-do-do-do! Jamie Tartt, do-do-do-do," the crowd echoed, jumping up and down in the stands. I joined in on the jumping but drew the line on the chant.

"Why didn't he pass to that other guy? Obisanya?" Lily asked over the yelling. "I thought you said he was good."

"He is!" I replied, raising my voice but still getting drown out by the surrounding crowd. "Guess Tartt just wanted the goal."

It only added more evidence to my slowly forming idea. One of Richmonds biggest problems was their teamwork, or the lack of it.

The thought brewed in the back of my mind as I watched Tartt point repeatedly to himself in the middle of the field, soaking in the crowds cheers. Egotistical prick. My momentary begrudging respect for him was gone as quickly as it came.

The game continued, with Richmond gaining more confidence after Tartt's goal actually put them in the game. There was a few close calls and a couple more shots on goal, but the half continued on with a score of 2-1.

"Come on," I muttered, watching Obisanya make his way up the pitch once again.

"YEAH! GO OBISANYA!" Lily yelled out, seemingly growing very attached to the guy whose jersey she wore.

As I laughed at her yells, one of the other teams defenders dove straight into Sam, sending him straight down to the ground. "Ref!" I yelled out, along with the rest of the fans in attendance.

The referee  held up a yellow card, which seemed a like an east punishment given the circumstance. Sam had yet to get up, still in a fetal position on the ground.

"Is he alright?" Jess asked.

I was about to respond when I watched as Tartt stepped over the clearly injuries Sam to take the free kick. No checking to see if he was alright, not even a brief glance down at him.

"That prick!" I exclaimed, earning questioning looks from the people around me. "The ref!" I quickly lied. Didn't need to get jumped by other Richmond fans for hating our star player.

I watched as Roy Kent pushed Tartt and seemed to tell him something while pointing at Sam, who was still on the ground. They were awfully close to each other and I could practically feel the tension from the stands. Tartt walked over to Sam, leaned down, and fucking rolled him. Like a ball.

"Jesus, yeah," Lily said. "That prick!"

Roy seemed to have similar thoughts, since he pushed immediately grabbed Tartt's shirt and went to punch him. Tartt was ready to fight back, but both their teammates and the referees were pulling them away.

It was in this moment something clicked in my brain. Richmond wasn't playing well because they weren't playing like a team. They were disconnected and constantly at each others throats like middle school boys in gym class. This out burst between Roy and Tartt was a prime example. As were all the times Tartt didn't pass, or the defense failed to communicate with the offense and vice virsa. They were all playing individual games.

A headline was clicking into place inside my head, along with the angle I would work throughout the piece. An article discussing the root of Richmond's many issues through examining Jamie Tartt and his playing habits.

I quickly wiped out my phone as Sam was being helped up by Roy and typed into my notes app: Jamie Tartt: Both Richmonds Problem and Solution.

☕︎︎☕︎︎☕︎

The game continued on. Tartt scored from the free kick awarded Richmond by Sam being tackled, tying the game. Ted pulled Tartt out for the last minute of the first half, which I respected from a coaching and personal perspective, but loathed from a fan one. Taking out your star player was fucking stupid, but understandable when he was as big a prick as Jamie Tartt.

When Tartt was walking to the locker room in a huff of aggravation and self pity, he looked up to the stands. We caught each others eyes and the sounds of the crowd dimmed in my ears like they always did whenever we made eye contact. I'd never disliked someone so strongly that looking at him actively weakened my senses, but there I was.

His face burned with an emotion I couldn't quite make out (anger? Dislike? Slight shame?), and he looked away before I could place it.

We scored once again in added time with a beautiful pass between Roy and Sam. All I could think as I celebrated with the crowd, though, was how I could use that goal in my article. Highlight how Roy made the pass not because he had to, but because he knew he could give the winning goal to his teammate who had been hurt earlier in the game. I would also be sure to note the distinct lack of Jamie Tartt on the pitch while this happened.

We stayed and cheered in the stands, the win feeling refreshing after the past four tragic losses. We were about to turn to follow the flowing crowd of fans leaving when Jess hit both Lily and my shoulders.

"Oi! Look," she pointed to the field where Colin waved us over with one arm and had his other arm around Isaac.

"Oooh," I teased, pushing Lily down the stairs to the front row. Colin and Isaac jogged over to meet us.

"Hi," Lily said to Isaac awkwardly. It was rare that she was awkward around a guy. She normally had control of a conversation and the guy wrapped around her finger.

"Hey," Isaac half grunted. Colin's subsequent eye roll made Jess and I laugh.

"Great job," I congratulated.

"Yeah, way to not lose," Jess agreed.

"Thank you, thank you," Colin smiled. "And the seats were good?"

"The seats were fucking fantastic!" I exclaimed before bringing my voice down slightly. "Really good."

He and I talked for a little bit more, discussing the game and what happened between Roy and Tartt, before Richard Montlaur came over and squeezed both Isaac and Colin's shoulders. He gestured with his head to the locker room, where the rest of the team was heading back to.

We said goodbye, (Lily and Isaac having a similar exchange as before) and headed our separate ways. Colin promised to fill me in in the Roy-Tartt beef at a later time, and I intended to hold him to it. I wouldn't be a journalist if I wasn't incredibly nosy.

"Did you hear the way he talked to me?" Lily asked, bouncing on her toes as we waited for the Uber.

"The grunts? Yes, we all heard the grunting," Jess teased.

"But the infliction. A guys infliction is very revealing about what he's trying to say."

"As are his grunts, apparently."

I tuned them out slightly and smiled softly to myself. My fingers itched for my laptops keyboard as I thought more about my article. I felt good about this one. This was it.

A/N:
This is not proofread (shocker, I know) because I'm honestly too lazy tonight but I wanted to get this out. Also, happy Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates!!

Very excited for the next few chapterssss