Substitute

SUBSTITUTE "Why do you do it?" her friends asked and, leaning at the front rail of the stand, Hazel asked herself the same question. The rain dripped slowly down the back of her neck, there was precious little feeling below her knees and her stomach growled severely, a reminder that she had not had time to eat since last night. A rugby match on a November Saturday when she could be at home, reading by the fire with a nice pot of...."Tea?" a deep voice in front of her made Hazel jump. She took the plastic cup of hot coloured water and sipped it carefully, last time a desperate gulp had brought a burnt mouth and instant regrets. The man who had brought the restoration of some warmth to her frozen extremities smiled at her but made no attempt to return to the replacements bench. "Do you come to all the home matches?" he asked "I've seen you standing here freezing the last six weeks at least." "I'm what you might call a dedicated fan" Hazel replied "Or possibly a nutcase - my girlfriends all think so anyway" "My last girlfriend wouldn't come to matches at all" he said "She didn't see the point when I spent all afternoon sitting on a bench and didn't even play. Are you a fan? Or are you a girlfriend?" Hazel hesitated before making herself look even more ridiculous. "I'm not anyone's girlfriend." she said and turned away from him to watch again. No-one's girlfriend.... the phrase repeated itself in her head. Why did she suffer to try and get the attention of a man who was obviously not interested in her and who looked....like Adonis himself from the Greek legend. The man spoke again. "I don't know why I bother with this." he said "I'd much rather be sitting by a log fire with a glass of mulled wine or two.." "Or three.." agreed Hazel. She tugged at the hood of her parka and a stream of water cascaded into her cup of tea. "Blast!!" she exclaimed. "Shall I get you another cup?" he asked and Hazel shook her head. "I don't blame you, it is rather plastic-tasting, isn't it?" Just as Hazel was about to agree, the full-time whistle went and the players began to stream towards where Hazel stood at the side of the players entrance. "James!" she called waving a soggy programme "James! Would you sign this for me? Please James? I haven't missed a match all season.... I'm a great fan of yours...." The muscular figure strode past, ignoring her, and his black hair shone with the rain and the floodlights. She was close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder but the moment passed. The crowd began to disperse and Hazel stood there clutching her wet programme in one hand and a rapidly cooling cup of tea in the other and stared at the rain-drenched pitch. It would never happen, someone like him would never be interested in someone like her. The, with a twinge of irritation, she noticed that her tea-bearing friend was still there. "Why don't we go and get that mulled wine?" he asked, "Give me half an hour and I'll look almost respectable" "Why not?" Hazel answered after a little hesitation, what had she got to lose? They arranged to meet in an hour and she trudged back home to change and dry out. Hazel harboured secret thoughts of meeting her hero at a club dinner, and being so glamorous and attractive he would dance with no-one else. Maybe this chap would be her entry ticket to an introduction to her hero. The man who had occupied her dreams, waking and sleeping, for months. Six weeks passed and Hazel and her attentive substitute had been out for a drink after most matches. He was called Pete, had fair hair and grey-blue eyes which crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was tall, well-built, fun to be with and fairly good-looking but he wasn't James and he didn't make Hazel weak with desire like James did. To be fair, she thought, he didn't get to run around the field in shorts and look like the team saviour every week. Nor did he have that special "Don't touch me I'm a demi-god!" aura about him. Pete got to sit on a damp bench in a tracksuit and drink polystyrene tea. It simply boiled down to the fact that Pete was a friend and James was an idol. Then Pete asked Hazel to go to the Club Christmas Dinner with him. This was what she had waited for...... several hours at the hairdressers and beauticians, several days trawling the shops for clothes and shoes and on the night, Hazel was sure she had never looked better. "Wow!" was all the comment Pete made as he took in her blue sequined dress, high heels and varnished nails. Her hair shone under the street-lights and her make-up was natural but enhancing. All those years studying magazine makeovers had paid off. This was HER NIGHT! The music and smoke was like a wall after the fresh night air and squeezing through the throng of people towards the bar, Hazel almost lost Pete in the crowd until she felt a warm hand grip hers and tow her along like a dinghy following a ship. Finally they reached the bar and Hazel dropped Pete's hand. After all, should James be looking her way, she didn't want him to get the wrong idea! The evening wore on, drink followed drink and Hazel danced occasionally with a few other girls and once with Pete but her eyes constantly scanned the faces for one special face, sculpted cheekbones and full sensuous lips....she could almost feel him near. Then a touch on her shoulder made her turn, and she was almost into his arms. HIS arms!!! God, she could just about die happy now, except he was leading her to the dance floor and sweeping her into a slow smooth embrace which passed for a dance. Hazel let his words wash over her, she couldn't take her eyes off his mouth and finally she closed her eyes and put her lips to his. .................the smell of onions assailed her, even over the scent of his aftershave, which was strong enough anyway, onions, whisky and beer and suddenly the idea of being kissed by James-the-Hero wasn't so appealing after all. Hazel's stomach lurched and she felt the effects of several double bacardi and cokes hit her all at once. She stumbled back from James' arms and mumbled something about feeling peculiar. James's voice came to her from a distance, through a fog.. "Shall we drink champagne at dawn together, you and I? I could show you my lakeside cabin..." "Oh shut up!" Hazel hissed at him "Can't you see the very mention of drink makes me feel worse?" "Don't you want to drink champagne with me?" her erstwhile hero asked, "I thought you were my biggest fan.." Hazel caught sight of Pete standing by the door. He looked concerned and uncertain at the same time. He smiled at her tentatively, beckoning. The cool night air beckoned too, and she turned back to James-the-Hero. "No thanks," she said "I prefer polystyrene tea." And she pushed her way towards the door and the man who was no longer a substitute in her eyes.