Page 126 of Contested

It rolled across the oval in waves, louder near the boundary, heavier when the chants caught properly and whole sections of supporters found the same rhythm at once. The sound seemed to hit him from every direction, pressing against the side of his head, his chest, the back of his neck. It had only grown worse as the time until the first bounce crept closer.

He blinked hard and focused on the ground.

The grass was still damp from the early morning shower that had passed through Bendigo, and the sky above looked as if it hadn’t decided whether it was finished yet. Low grey clouds sat over the stadium, thin enough in places for weak light to break through but heavy around the edges. The oval had taken the weather badly. Dark patches sat through the centre square, and when Marcos shifted his boots, the ground gave slightly beneath his studs.

He drew a breath in and rolled his shoulders.

Sleep hadn’t come to him at all in the night. His mind had kept circling the same thoughts, refusing to let him drift into anything that would have helped prepare him for the game.

He had tried to shake through all of it across the morning, trying to focus on Jacob’s pre-game speech and what plays they were going to aim for early in the quarter.

None of it really stuck.

Marcos glanced over at Parker, who stood near the right wing of the field, his opponent already shoving him with his shoulder, waiting for the first siren to sound. Parker shoved back harder, then rolled his neck and shouted something Marcos couldn’t make out over the crowd.

Marcos’ eyes moved past him and found the stands. Mustangs maroon and gold mixed with Bandits brown, red, and white, the colours breaking around each other in messy patches. A few signs had been lifted near the fence. A kid in Bendigo colours bounced on the spot while an older man beside him yelled with both hands around his mouth. Chants aimed at both teams rained down onto the field, but Marcos couldn’t separate any of them. They blurred together before they reached him.

Sebastian stood a few metres away, eyes set toward the end of the field, probably planning what his first move would be once he got the ball. He looked settled. Ready for the game to begin. One hand flexed once by his side, then stopped. His gaze did not move toward the crowd, or the Bendigo players, or Marcos. He kept his attention downfield.

Marcos grinned at the seriousness that had settled on Sebastian’s face.

“Kinda sad,” the Bandits’ ruck started, drawing Marcos’ attention to him. “First year out of the Bandits, and we’re the ones to keep you out of the top eight.”

Marcos stared at Laurence, eyes narrowing. He had been ruck-rover when Marcos played for the Bandits, always close enough to the centre work to have an opinion, and always too happy to throw it at anyone who would listen. He was shorter than Marcos and slimmer through the body, with hair shaved to the skin and a thick beard to make up for it.

“Kinda sad you needed me to leave to get ruck.” Marcos smirked. “Couldn’t beat a rookie out, huh?”

Laurence sneered, gaze flicking to Sebastian. “I see you and Slits over there have kissed and made up. Super chummy in that promo.”

Marcos’ fists clenched. “Better watch your fucking mouth.”

“Hit a nerve?”

“Yeah.” Marcos jaw flexed. “And if you hit it again, I’m gonna play your heart like a fucking accordion.”

Laurence’s eyes flashed as the siren sounded and the umpire stepped forward.

The ball went up, and Marcos’ focus sharpened into the upward line of it.

Everything narrowed at the bounce. Crowd gone. Noise gone. Marcos launched hard, knee rising as Laurence came in too close beneath him, trying to take space before Marcos had fully left the ground. Contact landed heavy through Laurence’s side, enough to shift him off balance, but Marcos still got his hand to the ball.

He palmed it into open space for Sebastian to chase.

Laurence hit the ground first, stumbling as he came down. Marcos landed next, boots planting firmly into the damp turf before he stepped around him and followed the ball.

Sebastian was already moving. He cut across the centre square, took the ball cleanly off the bounce, and got a kick away before Bendigo’s Rover could close the gap. The ball drove forward, skidding lower than it should have when it landed near the fifty-metre arc. Andrew led hard, bodying his defender out by half a step, and brought it to ground when the mark didn’t stick.

The Mustangs surged after it.

Marcos kept running, watching the contest fold around the ball. The first kick didn’t come off cleanly. The second was smothered. The ball spilled toward the boundary before Darcy got a boot to it under pressure, snapping it toward the goal from the wrong angle.

It went through for a behind.

The Bendigo supporters near that pocket jeered, loud and immediate. Mustangs fans answered with claps and a few shouts of encouragement, but Marcos had already turned back toward the centre of the field, breathing through the first hit of exertion.

Players spread out on the field, and the ball came back into play from the goal square, Bendigo dashing quickly down the far side. Their half-back took the kick short, then received the handball back and drove it long toward the wing. Parker went up hard, got bumped under it, and the ball spilled behind him. Bendigo gathered, swung inside, then lost it when Harry came across from half-back and cut the kick off with both hands.

The Mustangs’ crowd rose to their feet.