Chapter Text
This was an important match, simply put. Richmond were facing off against West Ham for the second time that season, and the two teams were battling for fourth place. The fourth place that decided if they were getting champions league football or not. It was a complex match, with layers deeper than the football itself. It had history, even if that history was a mere 3 years old. Trent, sitting with glass to his left side and Keeley Jones to his right, itched for a notebook and pen. His brain was dissecting each play, figuring out who to frame as David and who was Goliath in the match up, for his imaginary article. He missed this, the thrill of watching a game not just for pleasure but for the creation of a narrative, a story. This hunger for knowledge and truth was, after all, what drew him to journalism in the first place.
He glanced at Keeley beside him, who was yelling and cheering at each of Richmond's triumphs and failures. She watched like a fan, passion and all. She had a stake in this outcome between being head of PR and Jaime and Roy. Trent wasn't sure how the dynamic between Jaime and Roy and Keeley had resolved, though it was obvious from one look at the way she treated the two men that she still held a lot of love for them.
Trent didn't watch like Keeley though, he watched like a journalist. He watched objectively, quitely, and outlined the bare bones for an article in his mind with each passing minute.
His mind had wandered to how one might title this match; a match that was still nill nill 37 minutes in. Neither team was more dominant than the other. They each had their moments. His eyes zeroed in on a building attack, and he saw Collin coming forward. Colin, who had pushed far more forward than any defender had a right to be in any other tactic other than total football, got fouled in the box. As soon as he went down, Trent froze.
"Ref that is blatant! Have you even got eyes!" Keeley yelled, gesticulating wildly. Trent blinked slowly.
"Fuck," he cursed under his breath.
Keeley turned to him, eyebrows raised, "I'm sure he's fine, Trent, Collin's a strong one."
"I-i," Trent glanced at the opposition's box. Collin was still on the floor. The team had gathered around him, and McAdoo gestured to Ted for the medical team. "Right." One word was all Trent could muster. He unclenched his fist that he did not realized was clenched until that moment. He thought, "Collin will be absolutely fine."
"That fucking bastard," Rebecca said quitely to him and Keeley. She, unlike Keeley, did not risk being called out as an overly emotional owner in yet another misogynistic press article. She had her reputation to think of in front of this large group of executives from the club, despite how flawed the whole thing was.
"It was clearly bloody intentional," Trent nodded, outraged at the rather violent attempt to stop a Richmond goal. "But that's how West Ham play us: dirty."
Rebecca paused before responding, not quite sure what to do with Trent's enthusiasm about the foul. "Right, too right. Fucking Rupert." Trent nodded along with Keeley. Trent felt his heart beating against his chest when they bought out that orange stretcher. In a logical part of his brain that he could not reach, he had the statistic of players not walking off the pitch to being long term injured. It wasn't near 100%.
He felt his breath pass his lips more frequently than it was before. He ran a hand through his hair, and he found that it got a little stuck due to the clam on his hands.
"I wonder who Lasso is going to sub in?" He heard a person in the box next to them inquire. He was wearing a full suit and blazer.
Time had moved on without him. Collin disappeared into the tunnel, and Ted and Beard were consulting with a clipboard between them.
"Surely he'll put on Winchester." He heard Keeley whisper to Rebecca.
"He hasn't been in training this week, Keels. Sprained ankle." Rebecca supplied, worry leaking off her words.
"Fuck sake."
Total football is hard to play without complete chemistry throughout the team. A week of not practicing with the squad could be catastrophic. Coach Lasso was faced with a problem that had little to no solutions.
That's what Trent would have written if he was still a journalist. That's what he would have scribbled down in a little match day notebook. The header would have been Richmond vs. West Ham. A notes section with important information would be at the top half of the page. Then he would document important notes, minute by minute. He would jot a little '41 by that particular comment.
"This decision is going to stress Ted out even more than he already is," Trent said to Keeley.
Keeley opened her mouth to respond before closing it. She was silent for an instant. "Yes, but they know this team better than anyone in this world," her tone was even and certain. "Aside from you, of course." With a little chuckle, Keeley turned back to the pitch. There was the announcement that Colin had been taken off in favor of Tommy. Keeley called it. Rebecca and Keeley shared a look of confirmation before clapping on the number four defensive player.
Trent sat still. It wasn't long before the ref blew a long whistle sound, signaling half time. There was commotion around him, a normal proceeding after half time. His phone started to buzz, and he mindlessly picked it up.
"Trent Crimm speaking."
"Trent- I-"
"Ted?"
"Y-yes sir."
"I'm coming down, wait for me outside the medical rooms," He said quickly and authoritatively. Ted was suffering, Trent needed to help. Also, he secretly wanted to check on Collin, and the locale of just outside the medical rooms would aid him in his plan. He rushed out of the box, only quickly telling Rebecca and Keeley that he would be back before the second half after they sent him a questioning look regarding his hasty exit.
He ran down the steps, his loafers making light rapping sounds with each step. He let his mind wander as his feet carried him though the awfully familiar building.
He spotted Ted, seated on the bench, head in his hands.
"Ted," he said softly, sitting right close next to him. Ted's breathing was fast and uncontrollable. Trent expertly reached for his hand. "Breath with me, Ted, just breathe with me." He knew the comfort of his hand on Ted's would ground him. They had spoken about it. He needed to slow down his breathing before he could slow down his brain. Ted took one clean, long breath before it went back to being frantic. "Ted, love, you are doing so well. One more long breath with me." He squeezed Ted's hand, a reminder to start the longer breath. Two deep breaths in a row become three which become four. He had regained control.
"What if Tommy wasn't ready? This whole darn triangle game got Collin taken out, and if I put Tommy in too early his ankle might get reinjured, and, and we don't have the-the-"
"Depths," Trent provided.
"That darn word to have two of our top boys injured and-"
"Ted. You are catastrophizing. Talk me through this with your wise mind and your emotional mind." Trent threw in some therapy buzzwords for safety. They worked for him, and they worked for Ted.
"I made that choice, the choice to put Tommy on. He has to be okay."
"Why?"
"Because if he isn't, I put a win over the health of my player."
"You trust these boys?"
"Like they are my own."
"Then, Coach Lasso, trust that they trust you. Trust that they feel safe enough around you to say if they cannot play. Trust they wouldn't lie about their health, trust that you have told them winning and losing are just results, and you are not interested in results."
"They know that."
"Then Tommy wanted to play. Tommy can play."
"Shucks Trent, I feel all wrong about this."
"You know what Ted, Keeley told me that I am the one person that might know this team better than you or Beard or Roy. Keeley is one of the most intelligent people I know, but she was wrong about that one. No one knows these boys like you know these boys. The call you make, whether it works out or not, is a call made from the most informed person in the world. You gotta trust that, even if you gotta hear it from me rather than your own thoughts."
Ted took a moment. "You're right." Ted sighed, sitting up. "I got a team to coach."
"That you do, Coach Lasso." Ted stood up, turning towards the kit room. His eyes were soft yet determined. He knew what he was doing, Trent could tell from once glance at his eyes.
"Check on Collin for me? Tell him I'll come see him in a jiffy, and that I'm mighty sorry I couldn't check on him earlier?"
"Already planning on it, love. I'll text you with an update." Ted took a few more steps forward before turning on his heel. Trent's heart dropped for a moment.
"And Trent?" Trent nodded. "Thank you. I sure do love you." Trent just smiled at him, giving a quick nod.
"Love you, too."
Trent watched Ted walk down the hallway and disappear to the left. He even threw in a hop and a skip for good measure. Trent smiled at the display before brushing off his trousers and standing up. He took the first right, entering the medical room. Colin was seated on the right most blue chair. There was ice under his hamstring, and a bright, classic smile on his face.
"Trenty-boy!" Colin exclaimed. Trent gave his classic short wave. "Ain't you meant to be up in that fancy box of yours, laddie?"
Trent gave a quick swivel of his head, checking the room was empty. "The gaffer sent me in. He sends his condolences that he couldn't come in earlier. There were some- complications." Colin lowered his eyebrows in question. Trent sighed and took a seat on the edge of the blue medical bench. "He had a panic attack." (Trent only said it because Ted was in the other room informing the boys of what happened.)
"Oh- yeah. For reals?"
"Yeah, kiddo." Trent couldn't hold back the pet name. Colin nodded in understanding. "But that's dealt with for the moment. You, however, are not."
"I'm fine, Trent." Trent sent him a look. "Stop fussing, lad. Doc said a few days of R n' D, and leg will be good."
"Are you in pain?"
"Nah, docs gave me some meds. Said I should take em for 24 hours or something. I'll play next week."
"I don't much care about that, but I'm glad to hear you are okay."
"Thanks for checking in. I mean that, I do." Trent nodded his head.
"Anytime, Colin. And I mean that. I'll report back to Ted?"
"Yeah, please." Trent nodded. Colin glanced at the small TV screen hanging in the corner. "You should get up there."
"Yes, yes I should. Michael will be looking after you?"
"God I 'ave got you worried, 'avent I?" Trent rolled his eyes, tilting his head for an answer. "Yes, texted the boyfriend, Trent. And before you ask, he knows me treatment plan."
"Good." Trent nodded to himself. "See you later, Colin."
"Laters, Trenty-boy."
–
The match went rather smoothly after that. Tommy cleared a goal off the line with a header, and an Oscar worthy dummy run from Jaime put Sam in for an easy, clean finish. The pull and tug between the two teams continued with what Trent could only describe as beautiful. Trent was still not entirely sure which team was David and which was Goliath.
"Yes Sam! Good lad!" Trent said, joining in with Keeleys supportive yelling.
"What a run!" Keeley yelled, raising her eyebrows seductively at Rebecca. Trent briefly wondered what that was about before focusing back on the match where O'brien punched away the incoming cross. He gave a shout of, "Good defense!"
He wasn't sure he was much interested in the complex dynamics of this clash anymore, rather he was taken with a want for Richmond to gain those all important three points. As the ref blew the final whistle, he stood and clapped alongside Rebecca and Keeley.
Rebecca hastily made for the door to thank everyone for coming and let everyone give her a congratulations. As he made to leave, Keeley pressed a light hand to his arm. She looked around the fully empty seats of the box. "How long ave you two been shagging then?"
Trent must have given her a bewildered look. "Ms. Jones, I find it rather offensive for you to imply the only two gay men on the team are dating."
She giggled, "Christ no! Not you and Colin, you numpty. You and Ted."
Trent gave her another bewildered look, "I can assure you, Ted and I are not-"
"I know he's bi, relax."
Trent looked at her skeptically this time, "How did you come across that particular piece of information?"
"We have a bi club: me, Ted, and some other lads from the club." Trent went back to looking bewildered.
"A bi club? A club of bisexuals? At Richmond?"
"Yep! We keep it lowkey for obvious reasons. It's a bit like that fight club, accept more talking about feelings and less physical violence fueled by toxic masculinity."
"I see."
"So, you and Ted?"
"Coming up to a year."
"Oh!" She squealed, "I knew something was up with that book and you two last season!" Trent smiled, supposing Keeley was right that they had been fairly obvious about their feelings, however unintentional. "Right, I got my two boys to check on. Catcha later, Trent."
"Always a pleasure, Keeley."
Coach Lasso found himself in a predicament during this all important match. Colin Hughes, central defender, found himself fouled in the box left with a game ending injury. Total football requires absolute balance to be successful, and Hughes is certainly critical to that balance. Tommy Winchester is the obvious substitute given their shared position, but there are reports that he had been out of training this week due to injury. He was included in the bench for this game, indicating that he is fit to play. Injuries require time, and that time was not awarded to Winchester. Coach Lasso played Winchester, leaving us to question if Winchester's injury was taken seriously enough by the Richmond coaches. In the 78th minute, Winchester cleared a likely to be goal off the touch line. Coach Lasso seemed to have made the right call with his substitute. Football enthusiasts and Richmond fans will be wondering: will Tommy Winchester suffer the consequences of this play time further into the season?
That's what he would have written if he were tasked with writing a traditional scathing piece about Richmond FC. Instead, he shot a text to his boyfriend congratulating him on the victory and a masterclass in management. He wasn't Trent Crimm, the independent, ruthless journalist. He was Trent Crimm, Richmond.