‘Sounds good.’ I try to give Jordan a dramatic wiggle of my eyebrows to convey my thoughts, but my goggles do me no favours. I probably look like I’m having five different kinds of facial spasms.

Colt blows the whistle, and Jordan flicks the ball my way as I run past the goal. I cradle it in the net of my stick, spin back, and – without looking – fling it towards the net. It’s a frustrating attempt, and one I’m not at all proud of when the ball clears the goal, just barely brushing the side of the net.

‘Shit!’ I groan, crosse raised. ‘Dude, how do you expect me to make this? That shot’s my weakest point!’

I’m about ready to stalk towards Colt, who’s readying his composure for the storm, when someone else’s damn voice saves him.

‘Whoa, what’s this?’

What the hell?

An unfamiliar guy jogs towards us from the right entrance to the field, from the fence. Is this CJ Bradley, part two? I wonder what estranged Oklahoman son has returned to cause us misery this time.

But as he draws near, I realize he is very much not one of ours. However, he’s not unfamiliar, either, and I share a look of recognition with my team. Distracted from our trouble in paradise, heads turn towards the newcomer with wide eyes. He’s not in a Woodchucks jersey, but for anyone who keeps up with the MLL, it’s evident this is none other than Bradley’s right-hand man, Rodney Wilson.

Rod Wilson grins, definitely not reading the room, as his deep brown eyes crinkle in the corners and he runs a hand through his unruly black waves of hair. He looks older than Colt, although I know from stats that they’re only about a year apart in age. People like to say it’s probably the shadow of a beard, something the clean-shaven Colt’s never dared to attempt, or the fact that Rod became a (now single) dad at eighteen, at which point Colt probably still needed someone to strap up his shoulder pads for him. ‘Won’t you say hey, Coltie?’

The tension in Colt’s body immediately leaves it as he cracks a smile. ‘Hey.’

Our entire team watches in shock as the guys embrace so enthusiastically you could hear the back thumps from a field over. Jordan’s jaw is literally on the floor. Oh, my idol, her eyes scream.

Once they’ve got over their reunion, Colt introduces Rod. ‘This is Rodney Wilson, my pillar on and off the field. You’ve probably seen him in games, but I’m excited and pretty surprised you get to meet him in person … Bro, when did you even fly in?’