On Saturday when Leon rocked up at the footy field for his first game, spectators were setting up folding chairs around the boundary fence so they could get a good view of the action. He sat in his car a few moments, psyching himself up. The big tattooed bald bloke—Toby—was walking across the oval with a woman, presumably his wife, while four kids gambolled around them like a small herd of goats. That nasty piece of work, Mooney, was there too, arguing with a thin blonde woman while two little girls watched on. The way the man stood over his wife, it was clear to Leon that the treatment he’d received from Mooney at training wasn’t out of the ordinary. The guy was a prick. Leon would do his best to avoid him; he wasn’t scared of the man, he simply didn’t want trouble.

Seeing Mooney’s behaviour bugged Leon so much, his nerves were replaced by fierce determination. But when he joined the team, the men stared at him blankly and he knew they didn’t want him there. For a microsecond he considered walking away, but he wouldn’t give up. This was his new beginning. No way was he going to quit. His dad would say, I told you so, and Leon wasn’t having that.

Warm-up was the ritual jog round the oval then some stretches and sprints. Robbo was a hard taskmaster. He yelled and clapped and hurled abuse, especially at Leon. But as Leon jogged laps with the men, he realised it was all show. Sounding tough was about impressing the spectators who were watching from the boundary. Wendy was there, leaning on the rail with Max and Suzie. The little girl was dragging her doll around and Max was glued to his phone. As the team jogged by, Max looked up and waved at Leon. ‘Rosie had her pups,’ he yelled. ‘I saw them being born.’

Leon gave him the thumbs up. ‘How many?’

‘Six. And she didn’t eat any.’ The kid hadn’t worked out that Rosie had always been a good mum. ‘Come and see them this afternoon,’ Max yelled.

‘Sure,’ Leon called back.