Chapter Text
When Ted had first heard the expression “It’s the hope that kills you”, he’d thought it was just about the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Sometimes hope is all you have to believe in.
The moment the ball hit the back of Richmond’s net for the second time, (thanks to Jamie Tartt finally following Ted’s own advice and choosing his team over glory) (which isn’t that just perfect timing universe, honestly), the expression had started to make a little more sense. Not that Ted would be admitting that to anyone anytime soon. No sir. But man it stung.
They’d come so close, to have it snatched away on the heels of victory (well, technically on the heels of a tie, but now was not the time to focus on that either) just seemed too cruel. And now he had to face a locker room full of dejected players, his players, and find a way to help them through this moment. Somehow.
That damned hope had to be hiding somewhere still, right?
Ted took a longer route to the locker room than necessary, making a point of finding the Manchester City coaching staff (Pep wasn’t there, but that was okay - this was not the time to be starstruck) to congratulate them on their win. They won the whole damn thing didn’t they, and one thing Ted would not be is a sore loser. His boys worked hard this season, and dang this hurt, and sure, maybe he was delaying the moment he had to look into those crushed faces and convince them that there was still hope. But he would do it, because there was hope, always. There had to be.
So Ted was walking through the away section of Nelson road when the text popped up on his phone. Another adorable robot from Henry, calling him a great coach, even after tonight. A sad smile crossed his face as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. There’s still a little hope alright.
Passing the away treatment room, he was shocked to see none other than Jamie Tartt, he of that extra pass that sealed Richmond’s fate, sitting alone. And, for some reason, looking so sad. Huh.
Well, Ted wasn’t happy with how things left off between them. Sure, Jamie had been just about the most difficult athlete Ted had ever worked with, but that last night it was so clear he was trying. And Ted had been proud, and hopeful, and gosh darn it Ted does not quit on things; even prickly peacocks like Jamie Tartt. He can’t change the past, but he can take a moment to congratulate the player, and maybe to see what was causing such a sombre expression on his usually overly confident face.
As he reached for the door, Ted realised he was wrong. Jamie was not alone in that room. Not at all.
Both Ted and Jamie jump when the cleat hits the wall next to Jamie’s head, as the other man in the room makes his presence known for the first time, to Ted at least, with a yell. Jamie seemed to curl in on himself more as the man came closer, stepping right into his space, with a pointed finger in his face.
Rooted to the spot, Ted just stares as the man snarls “You! Do you really think I wanna come all the way down to London to watch my son pass the ball?!” And oh. Oh no. His son? This is Jamie’s father? This man, roughly shoving Jamie’s head to the side as he rants at him, is Jamie’s father.
The man, Jamie’s father, stalks out of Ted’s sight again, but this time Jamie looks up and sees Ted standing there. Watching. His expression isn’t just sad, Ted realises. It’s resigned, like he expected this from his father. Like he’s been in this position before. Like it’s normal.
Jamie’s not looking at Ted for help or for reassurance. It’s that same damn expression on his face, like this misery is commonplace, and Ted wants nothing more than to make it go away. To have not seen this. For this to not be happening.
“You could have scored the winner. You’re better than that Jamie. Fuck!” the boy’s father yells and… this is his father.
Abruptly Ted breaks eye contact, turning away from the treatment room, away from Jamie, away from that angry, snarling father and his hands are tingling and his ears are ringing and he has to get away. He can’t deal with this. He just wants Henry, wants to hold him and make sure he knows how loved he is, even though his father is an ocean away.
Ted is halfway to the Coach’s Office before he feels his breath slow down and his hands stop shaking. He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.
But Jamie.
The guilt comes quick and fast. Ted just stood there, stood and watched and did nothing. Then he walked away. Left him there. Coach of the year.
Except… he isn’t Jamie’s coach, not anymore. Ted can’t deny that part of him wants to run back to that room and do something, do anything. But even as he thinks it, reality rushes back in. What can Ted do? Jamie is an adult. Jamie has his own coach he can go to to talk about this. Like when he opened up about his father at the sacrifice and Ted made a mental note to check in about that with him the next day and then BAM the kid was gone. There was nothing that could be done to change that. But… Jamie had seemed his usual cocky self any time he popped up in an interview, and he was shining on the pitch any chance he got. And… isn’t it true what they say… Some people are spurred onto greatness by tough fathers. Right?
Jamie is an adult, a professional footballer; even if he did look like a kid sitting there. Alone. Hurting.
Heck, even if Ted had stormed in there to intervene, to ask why a father would treat their child like that, to demand why anyone would be angry after their son assisted in a match winning performance, to stop that ugly scene from unfolding… in the long run, what good would it have done? Jamie would be back in Manchester in a matter of hours and once again out of Ted’s reach. All Ted would have done is make the man angrier, and it would be Jamie who suffered from that.
There really was nothing he could have done.
***
“There is something worse out there than being sad, and that is being alone and being sad.” Ted speaks these words to his team, feeling the hope in his chest as he looks at each and every one of their faces. But his mind is flashing back to another young man, who he left alone and sad not that long ago and the guilt rises again. But he can’t think about that now.
He’s able to focus on the team, on his speech, on these players in front of him that he believes in with all his heart, until he’s sitting at his desk in the Coach’s Office with Beard.
Sure, Ted bursting into the treatment room and giving Jamie’s father a piece of his mind wouldn’t have helped the kid. But… he could have waited outside, down the hall, for a moment to grab him alone. To tell him he was proud of him for making that pass. For remembering to turn that me into an us. Maybe he still has time to do that now-
A glance at his watch tells him that no, he does not have time. He’s expected for a post game press conference any minute… dang it! As if that wasn’t going to be miserable enough already.
Quickly, Ted grabs some paper off his desk, scrawling Way to make that extra pass. Ted
Succinct, to the point; clearly stating that he was proud of the young man for his actions. That Jamie’s father was wrong. It’s not much, but it’s all he has time for right now.
Jumping up, he slips the paper into an envelope and turns to Beard, who is sitting and watching him curiously.
“Coach, I’m gonna need you to run by the Man City bus before they scoot off. Deliver this to one Jamie Tartt. I’d do it, but I’m needed in the press room pronto.”
Beard takes the envelope, one eyebrow rising slightly in question as he stands up.
“I’ll explain later. Oh, wait-” Ted interrupts himself as he gets an idea, yanking his drawer open. The little bag of green army men is right there, and he reaches in to grab one. He remembers Jamie watching as he tried to give Sam one on his birthday; hopes he’ll remember the significance of the gesture, even if he’d had nothing but attitude in response to the whole situation on the day.
The first one Ted pulls out is holding a rifle of some kind, and he hesitates a second, before putting it back. Searches around until he finds one he likes. Sure these are all army men, but he doesn’t want to give Jamie a particularly violent looking one. No more angry men for Jamie today, no sir.
He finds one he likes; hand up, eyes in binoculars. A little army man looking out for his team. Perfect.
Ted adds it to the envelope before ushering a bewildered looking Beard (sure, most people would think he was wearing his usual expression, but Ted knows better) on his way. Beard shakes his head, muttering, “I can’t wait to hear what this is all about”.
As Ted follows him out of the office, heading in the opposite direction, he can’t help but think that Beard is not going to be happy when he does explain. Not one bit.
The guilty feeling in Ted’s gut hasn’t gone away, not completely. He can still see Jamie sitting there alone and sad and… The note will help. The note and the army man will make sure Jamie knows he did the right thing, that he is on the right path. That Ted believes in him.
Even if, dang it, he really wants to go back in time and give that sad young man sitting in the treatment room a hug, and promise him that he’s going to be alright.