Page 70 of Playing the Field

I know.

I fucking know.

The players jog back to halfway for the restart, their body language tense, and frustrated.

I glance toward Carter. His expression is tight, focused—but there’s a flicker of doubt there too.

And I hate it.

This isn’t who we are. This isn’t how we play.

But right now?

We look like a team that doesn’t belong in the top half of the table.

A team that’s about to let second place slip away.

And that?

That is not going to happen.

I step toward the sideline, my voice sharp and commanding.

“Wake the fuck up, boys.”

Carter hears me. So does the rest of the team.

But the question is—will they respond?

Halftime couldn’t come fast enough.

The team jogs off the field, shoulders tense, heads low, frustration written across every damn face. Brandt follows behind, muttering a curse under his breath as we head toward the locker room.

I don’t say a word until we’re inside.

Until the door slams shut.

Until every single player is looking at me, their jerseys damp with sweat, their breathing heavy, waiting.

Then, I let loose.

“What the fuck was that?” My voice is sharp, cutting through the tense silence. “You want to let them run all over us? You want to hand them the fucking game?”

Carter rolls his shoulders, shaking his head. “We’re trying, Graham, but⁠—”

“No.” I cut him off. “Trying isn’t enough. You know that. We’re reacting instead of setting the pace. We’re letting them dictate everything.” I drag a hand down my face, exhaling sharply before turning to Brandt. “What do you see?”

Brandt leans forward, arms crossed. “We’re losing the breakdown battle. Slow to reset on defense. And we’re playing too deep in attack—our scrum-half isn’t challenging the defensive line, which means they aren’t committing enough bodies to the ruck.” He looks at Carter. “We need quicker ball. Shorter carries. Stop trying to outmuscle them and start playing smart rugby.”

Carter nods, his jaw tight. “Got it.”

I scan the room, my gaze locking on each player. “We’ve come too fucking far to let this slip now. This game is ours. But you need to believe that. You need to want it more than them.” I look to Zane, our fullback. “I need you sharper on the counterattack. If they kick to us, we punish them for it.”

He nods. “I’m on it.”

“Dominic.” My voice steadies. “Lead them. Get their heads back in the game.”

Carter exhales, nodding once before looking around at the rest of the team. “We wake up this half. We don’t let them walk over us again.”