Leon sat slightly apart from the others. While the men bantered and talked big, he rubbed liniment into his thighs and calves where he still had a few tight spots from collisions with Mooney at training. He glanced up to find Robbo staring at him, and was surprised when the man nodded. This was the recognition Leon needed. Robbo might not say it in front of the team, but from that small gesture Leon knew the coach was glad to have him out there today. Leon would give all he could. The only problem was whether Mooney would pass the ball to him.

Robbo slipped into psych-up mode and started building the tension. His passion was contagious, and when he sent them jogging onto the oval to warm up, Leon was as fired up as the others, bursting into spontaneous grapevines and high kicks to loosen his hips and stretch his hamstrings. The crowd shouted encouragement and the team was jittery. Leon felt the collective edginess as they jostled and jibed and ragged one another, fizzing with nerves. Spirits were high.

But when Leon leaned over to stretch his calf, Mooney clamped his neck with a vice-like hand. ‘You’d better put that ball between the posts, Parkie, or I’ll tie you to that fucking big tree and set it alight.’

Leon was so hyped he felt like hitting out, but he shook loose and stared the blond man in the eye. ‘That tree has nothing to do with me. I’ve told you before.’

‘Have to take your word for it,’ Mooney sneered. ‘But I don’t have much confidence in your word.’

Toby shifted closer and Leon wondered if the two of them were going to lay into him right there on the field. But Toby broke into a grin. ‘Confidence, Mooney? That’s a big word. You been reading dictionaries?’

Mooney guffawed. ‘No, mate. Didn’t you know I’m full of vocabulary?’

Leon was grateful to Toby for defusing the situation, but Mooney wasn’t done yet.

He jabbed Leon in the chest with a finger. ‘Keep your fucken feet under you today, right, Parkie? Then we won’t have to work so hard.’

Leon glared at him. ‘We’re all going to have to work, mate.’

Mooney spat on the ground and leaned close. ‘Don’t call me mate. And just remember—it doesn’t matter how many goals you score, you’ll always be Parkie.’ He spat again, the mucus landing on Leon’s boot, and added, ‘You’re lucky the boys put up with you. You wouldn’t be here if I had my way.’