In Touch (Play On #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

And it worked. It was daunting. He had stood in front of the almighty All Black team before, and there had been some serious passion, energy, and power radiating off them.
    But this?
    Every passing minute in this club seemed a bigger, fatter joke.
    The team looked to him for some sort of reaction. What did he do in return? High-five them all? Pat their bums, which American sportsmen seemed so fond of? He only nodded. “Thanks, lads.”
    He felt Coach’s stare on him and turned. Hard to read, Coach—the shaggy beard hiding his expression. He spoke to the team. “Thanks, boys.” They resettled into their seats, some throwing glances at Padraig, and none in a friendly manner. “Next business…” Coach began. “As you are all aware, the World Cup is next year.” Murmurs started between pairs of mates that Coach subdued with a raise of his hand. “We’ve been waiting to hear when the scouts are coming around to view the team in action, and we got a confirmation letter today.” He glanced down at the sheet. “Looks like they won’t give us a definite date, just that it will be one of our home matches at the end of this year.”
    There were loud groans, and then one of the players piped up. “At least it’s a home game. We’ll have some advantage.”
    “Not much,” scoffed Del.
    “Settle down,” Coach said as the banter reached a feverish pitch. The noise continued, so Coach backed up and pounded on the white board.
    As it quieted, Rory leaned into Padraig and whispered, “It’s not like any of us have a chance. Don’t know what they’re getting so excited about.” Padraig couldn’t agree more. Who in this motley crew would be called to represent their international team? Not one of them.
    “The only players not eligible for selection are Del and Rory. Mr. O’Neale is lucky enough to carry an American passport.”
    All eyes turned to Padraig again. Feck. The possibility hadn’t even occurred to him. No way could he play for any team but Ireland, even if that wasn’t going to happen. And then play against his old teammates? What honor was in that? He bowed his head with the thought and had nothing to say.
    Coach saved him by continuing, “So let’s drive it hard the next couple of weeks, get us up to where we want to be. Anything that we had put on the backburner to address later, we’re gonna work on now. I’ll break you into special units to work on strengths and weaknesses.”
    “Excuse me, Scotch?” A lad with coifed hair raised his hand as if he was in school. “I don’t think I can make it to most games in November ’cause I gotta pull extra shifts at my job to save more money for Christmas.”
    Coach held up two hands in front of him. “We’ll talk about that later, Austin, see what we can do to help. Any other questions?”
    Silence prevailed. A few stared out into space, as if lost in the dream. Only Padraig, and he was sure Rory and Del, were itching to get onto the pitch. Get out of that room and do something. Get moving. It was the longest Padraig had gone without training in years, and it looked like he was going to have to do most of it himself.
    “So that leads me to the last bit of business. She should be here any minute.” Coach glanced up at the clock. “Since we are trying to give this club and you lads the best chance of success, management have decided to introduce a specialist for the team.” He cleared his throat and rushed, “And she’s volunteered her time.”
    Just then a soft knock occurred on the back door that led to the pitch. Without waiting for an answer, the brunette from Thursday walked in. Today, she wore black leggings with a funky pattern at the bottom, an oversize white collared shirt, and a fedora.
    “This is Gillian Sommersby, and now the Blues physical therapist.”
    She passed a quick look over the men, resting at last on Padraig at the end of the row. A moment of recognition tweaked in her smile.
    “She’s all right,” whispered Rory when