It was 4.30ish, Friday afternoon, on a south London college playing fields. The rain was slashing down, and fifteen college boys are finishing their football practice. Stray balls were being rounded up, and the group was gathering around the teacher taking the session, Miss Beckett.
'Alright boys,' she had to raise her voice to make herself heard. 'Five laps, then inside. Last one back has to do five more.'
There was a groan from the group. They' had their kick about, and they all just wanted to get back inside, in the warm and dry. They all trudged off, in a large group, almost huddling together for warmth.
Miss Beckett shook her head, and at the end of the first lap yelled, 'Do you all want extra laps? Pick up the pace!'
This was her first teaching job. She was 24, and fresh out of university. There weren't any male P.E. Teachers at this school, so she had volunteered to be the football coach. She enjoyed the game, and she enjoyed the company of these fit young men.
The group sped up, only marginally, but soon they were spread out. Miss Beckett was surprised to see Dave Anderson hanging towards the back. He was by no means the fittest boy on the squad, but usually made up for it in enthusiasm, and sheer willpower kept him up with the big boys.
Dave was feeling his hamstring. He'd felt a strain in it about fifteen minutes earlier, but was hoping to run it off, but it was still aching. Still, all he had to do he reasoned, was stay ahead of the last kid out here, and he could get himself indoors.
It occurred to Miss Beckett, as the boys passed her to start their final lap, that she had a pretty good job. She got to watch these seventeen and eighteen year old boys run around in their shorts every week, and the college issue white shorts they were all forced to wear left little to the imagination. But that didn't stop her imagination wandering.
Dave was still struggling as he passed Miss Beckett for the penultimate time. He glanced all over his shoulder, and saw he was four or five paces ahead of Alan, the teams Goalkeeper. He was a bit chubby, and was probably favourite to finish last anyway, he usually did. Dave turned back, got his head down and started thinking about the warm fluffy towel waiting for him in his locker, in the warm dry locker room.
He entered the home straight, and took another glance behind him. Alan had closed the gap. He was still a couple of paces behind, but he looked determined to catch up. Dave tried to kick for home, but a bolt of pain shot up the back of his thigh, and he grimaced, but kept going. Everyone else had finished now, and were heading back to the locker room, faster than they had been running on their laps, laughing and jostling with each other. Dave grimaced about ten yards from Miss Beckett, when he felt something clip his heel. Normally, it would have just knocked him off balance and he would have stumbled across the line. But not today. He stumbled, and put all of his weight, off balance, onto his aching hamstring, and landed face first in the mud. He rolled over twice, and looked up to see Alan pass Miss Beckett, and jog off towards the buildings at the edge of the field.
Dave looked at Miss Beckett, imploring her wordlessly not to make him do more laps. But he was to be unlucky. He complained that he had hurt his hamstring, that he'd been tripped, but she wasn't having any of it.
'Come on. Five more.'
He limped off. He barely made it round half a lap, and he just started walking. It took him ten minutes to do four laps, at which point Miss Beckett had clearly had enough and ushered him inside. They walked in silence back to the gym block, and it stopped raining just before they got inside.
'Typical.' Miss Beckett said as she held the door for Dave to hobble through. He ignored her and headed for the boy's locker room. He had to pass the girls room, and heard laughter from inside. Miss Beckett followed the noise into the girls' locker room and disappeared from view.
The boys had all left by the time Dave got inside. Only the familiar stale smell remained. Normally after a session like that Dave would just change and head home, to shower there, but today he was caked in mud from his tumble in the dirt, and was soaked through, so he decided to hit the showers here. He peeled off his sticky shirt, and threw it into his gym bag, followed by his socks and shorts. They had all been white when he put them on, but were now various shades of brown. He peeled off his Y-fronts, and tossed them in the bag. He reached up, and pulled his fluffy white towel out of his locker, and turned around.
Miss Beckett knocked on the door, to the boys locker room, and without waiting for an answer, opened the door. Dave froze.
'I'm sorry Dave, but the cleaners need to clean up in here. You can use the teacher's shower, but we kinda need you out now.'
Miss Beckett hid it well, but she could not believe her eyes. This eighteen year old kid was standing, balls out in front of her, towel over his shoulder.
She gathered herself again and said, 'Come on, grab your stuff and come with me.
