League Of His Own Ch 01

A/N -- Hello! And now for something completely different... Nah, not really. At most, I probably check reality at the door regarding a few things but some aspects of the relationships take a more modern view on the world of dating, for example.

I've read one or two comments for other stories (not mine) saying the story was simply wish fulfilment on behalf of the author. More than one young Australian male wanted to play cricket in the Ashes against the Poms (England). Growing up in Sydney, it was either dreaming of hitting a century in the cricket for Australia, or scoring the winning try for your favourite team in the yearly NRL Grand Final.

Most other stories I've written, the MC is generally a decent or at least a somewhat sympathetic character that some readers could even identify with. In this story... Hmmm, you might not like him as much, though I hope you'll still cheer for him in the end. But, to be honest, the reason this story is being posted in this category is he's going to be intimate with some family members.

To explain one further thing for those who won't really know what the hell I'm talking about before the start:

The sport of rugby league. A popular winter sport played in Australia (primary New South Wales and Queensland), parts of New Zealand, England (primarily the M62 corridor, Merseyside in the west to Humberside in the east) and parts of south-western France (Catalan area, Toulouse, Perpignan). Rugby league differs from rugby union in certain aspects, from the number of players on the field, the way scrums are completed, and the general rules. I won't go into too many technical details though.

One last thing:

This story is dedicated to former rugby league player Rob Burrow. Standing only five-five, weighing in at 65-70kg and playing at half-back, he played in the English Super League for the Leeds Rhinos between 2001-17, playing 493 games, winning 8 Super League Titles, 2 Challenge Cups, and 2 Harry Sunderland Trophy's (Man of the Match/MVP in the Grand Final). In late 2019, it was revealed he had been diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease, of which there is no cure and little treatment available. As of early 2022, Rob is confined to a wheelchair, having lost all motor function and the ability to speak. It is an incredibly sad story but the rugby league community in England has come together to raise money for his established charity to hopefully find a cure.

All characters involved in sexual scenarios are 18+.

All reviewing / editing completed by the author. Any issues with grammar are my own. My spelling is generally okay as Microsoft Word will catch any glaring errors. But I won't claim any story I upload is perfect. I'm only human! (Captcha tells me every time.)

Anyway, hope you enjoy. Comments and feedback appreciated as always.

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Sitting in front of the assembled media as a somewhat shy and naïve eighteen-year-old isn't how I expected life to turn out when I'd dreamed of playing professional sport growing up. Thousands of kids would have dreams of scoring the winning runs in an Ashes test against England, or scoring the winning try for their favourite team in an NRL (National Rugby League) Grand Final, or kicking the winning goal for the Sydney Swans in Australian Rules football, particularly when playing any team from Melbourne.

Ah, the old Sydney versus Melbourne rivalry. Not sure if we hate them or Queenslanders more...

Anyway, why was I sat in front of the media? I was about to sign my first professional contract as a rugby league player. I would be signing for what the media considers the worst team in the national competition, the West Sydney Rangers. They'd won only half a dozen games over the past three seasons, but I was signing for them as their current half-back had one more season before retirement, and I was being recruited to lead a new generation of players after he departed. As I was only just eighteen and hadn't completed high school, I would be signing a part-time contract, for the first season, and would be still be attending high school to complete my studies. Trying to mix professional sport and my studies would be difficult, but it was something my mother, representing me legally, and my agent, who my mother had selected on my behalf, insisted I do.

I actually agreed with them. Most professional rugby league players retired by their mid-thirties due to the strain on their bodies. With increasing professionalism, there was a rise in demands on the human body, and with that came more injuries are bodies were pushed to the limit. While those at the top were handsomely rewarded with almost million dollar contracts, the majority made enough to live comfortably, but gone were the days where it was more semi-professional and most players had full-time jobs. I wanted to complete my studies and have something to carry me onwards after my career finished. And it was always possible I'd wash out after only a couple of seasons if I simply wasn't considered good enough.

Some players would move into the media. Others would move into coaching. A select few would move into administration of the game as a whole, or at one of the clubs that made up the competition. But the majority would retire then have to find some way to provide for their families for another thirty or so years until they were of actual retirement age. Quite a few rugby league players are, to be honest, considered utter meatheads. When you listen to a lot of them, and read what they get up to sometimes, it's hard to disagree that a lot of them are missing a few brain cells, but they're also human beings, just like everyone else, and they had skills and gifts that allowed them to play professional sport. I planned on attending university when my career was over and finding a second career. If it was in five years or fifteen, it didn't matter.

The coach of the team I'd be joining was currently talking about me to the assembled media. I had played rugby league since I was around five years old, either for my local league club, Northern Meadows RLFC, and also played for Northern Meadows High School in the state competition. At sixteen, I'd represented my state in the youth State of Origin series, though only as the back-up to the number one pick, but missed selection as an Australian schoolboy to tour England.

My position was half-back. I stood at five-nine, weighed about seventy-five kilos. Sounds a little overweight but my body fat was low, muscle density being high. I couldn't be too heavy as I relied on athleticism and speed in my position, in addition to positioning and the marshalling of my players. One of the most important facets of my game, and the part I spent a lot of time developing, was in kicking. I was also the goalkicker for conversions and penalty goals, and was handy at kicking field-goals too. While my teammates at school would head off home immediately once training finished, I'd spend another hour putting the ball through the posts, continuously working on my accuracy. My percentages had improved with every season since taking upon the role.

"So the plan is for Daniel to complete his studies," the coach explained to the assembled media, "He will train with Rangers two nights a week, his high school team once a week, but will be available if Rangers play on a Friday night, and weekend games won't be an issue as his Schoolboy Cup games are on Wednesday night. We are aware of his commitments to playing for Northern Meadows High School in the school state competition at the same time. Compensation in regards to any potential injuries has already been worked out." He turned to me. "Daniel, do you mind answering questions? They'll go easy on you."

I glanced at my mother first, then my agent. Both of them nodded. "Sure, I'll answer a few." I'd had a little media training but I knew that some sports journalists could be brutal at times. They'd dissect anything stated, trying to craft a story, even if it was complete bullshit.

"Daniel, you're joining what is considered the worst team in the NRL competition. Last season, Rangers won only one game all season, finishing with the wooden spoon. The season before, they won only three games, finishing joint bottom on the table. Your school career is exemplary. I'm left wondering why you'd choose to join Rangers when teams like the Roosters and Panthers were interested in your signature."

Clearing my throat, I managed a tight grin. "While it is true that West Sydney Rangers has struggled on the field in recent years, the chairmen and coach have put the pieces on the board to ensure that this club will be a success on and off the field, sooner rather than later. The training facilities are first class. I won't be the only player signing to lead this club to future success. It might not be this year or next. There is a long term vision for this club, and I'm excited about the future."

"Do you honestly believe Rangers are capable of winning the NRL title within the next five years?" another journalist asked.

"I would love to say anything is possible. Why not this year? All it takes is a little hard work, dedication, skill, and yes, some luck too. No-one thought Leicester City would win a Premier League title two years after promotion from the Championship. Why not Rangers winning the title after a couple of bad seasons?"

The press conference continued with the same sort of questions, wondering why a prospect like myself was joining the worst team. Thing is, if the NRL had a draft system like the AFL (Australian Football League), or like most American sports, there was a chance I'd have ended up at Rangers anyway. But I was offered a lot of money to sign a three-year deal as an eighteen-year-old with a guarantee to start the season once I graduated from high school. It was far too good an opportunity to turn down.

Returning to a smaller room once the question and answer session was finished, my agent and mother took copies of my contract, the club holding onto another. After a round of handshakes, I sat down with the coach again as he handed me a copy of my weekly itinerary, a dietary plan I needed to follow, and my training regime. He surprised me by adding something else.

"Look, I know a lot of the older guys in the team will probably give you all sorts of advice. Mine is to ensure you focus on your studies, Daniel. Billy is in his last season at half-back, and unless he's injured, there's a good chance he'll play most of the season. You'll get your chance in at least half a dozen games, as he's going to need rest, but this is a learning year for yourself. I take it your high school is going all out for state competition this year?"

"Yeah. Runner-up the past two seasons. It's win or bust this season. Half the team will be graduating at the end of the year, and the prospects coming through simply are not as good."

"I've got the school calendar here, so I knew when you'll be playing mid-week games. I've organised with the school that your training will only be with us, but you'll liaise with your school coach about other matters." He paused before asking, "Sure it's not going to be too much?"

"I'm young, fit and healthy, coach. I think the more time I spend on the field, the better. That'll keep me sharp. Sitting on the sidelines all year would be tough, unless you wanted to stick me in reserve grade."

"No, I think what we've organised will be best."

Shaking hands, he wished me good luck for my return to school, particularly as it would be my final year. I'd attend my first training session on the Tuesday afternoon, though the first trial match wouldn't be for another month. Pre-season was all about conditioning and developing on skills that would have gone slightly rusty during the off-season.

My agent took off in his sports car rather quickly leaving me alone with my mother. Turning towards her, she smiled before hugging me tightly. "I'm proud of you, Danny," she whispered.

"I'll admit I'm a little nervous."

"That's only natural. But this is what you've been working towards since your very first game at five years old. Ready to go home?"

"Yeah. I've got that party tonight that's being thrown for me. Mark and Chris will be picking me up later. Wouldn't mind getting out of this suit when we get home though." I hugged my mother again. "Thanks for all the help, Mum. It's appreciated."

"You're still my little boy, Danny."

As Mum drove us home, I glanced at her and grinned. Her name was Lauran Cole. She was forty-four years old and had been a single mother to three children since I was five years old. I had two older sisters, Kyla, who was twenty-two, and Aimee, who was twenty years old. My sisters also lived at home, Aimee still attending university, Kyla working full-time, but Mum insisted all her children could remain at home for as long as they wanted, even those who might soon be making even more money than herself in a year or two.

Dad had walked out on the family when I was five years old. He'd been having an affair with Mum's best friend and he chose her over us. They ended up moving across country to Perth, where Dad's parents and extended family lived. I'd seen him perhaps three times since the day he'd walked out, and hadn't made any attempt at keeping in contract with any of his children since I was around ten years old. That meant we also didn't see our other grandparents, aunts, uncles or cousins. I don't think any of us were particularly upset, as he eventually married and started a new family.

Since the day he'd walked out, Mum had raised her three children alone. Our surname, Cole, was her maiden name, able to change all of ours after making a request that was ignored by my father. Once enough time passed, she was allowed to change it. I knew my mother had dated from time to time, but there were no permanent relationships that we know about. No long term boyfriend and certainly no fiancé or potential step-father.

I did wonder if my mother was lonely from time to time, but she always seemed to be in a good mood and happy with life. She worked as a contract lawyer, which made her the perfect person to ensure anything I signed could be reviewed by someone who knew what they were doing. I hadn't had much to do with my agent yet. I didn't have a clue so left my mother to look after me. Basically, as long as I wasn't ripped off, I'd have no complaints.

Arriving home, I had a couple of hours to burn before I'd be picked up for the party, the last party we'd enjoy before returning to our studies at the start of February. It was one of those usual house parties that young men and women wanted to hold on a January evening in Australia. It was going to be warm, there was going to be a pool, definitely alcohol, perhaps some drugs, which I would definitely avoid, though nothing more than a little weed, and probably a lot of casual sex. I did have a girlfriend but, well, things hadn't been going great lately. She'd hadn't exactly been supportive of me becoming a professional footy player. Never explained why though.

Kyla wasn't home, still at work, but Aimee was on holiday from university, getting to her feet and hugging me tightly after I'd walked in the door. My younger older sister was gorgeous. No more than five-four, with brunette hair to her upper back, a pair of gorgeous brown eyes. She had faint freckling over her nose and cheeks, that just made her look adorable, and a pair of lips that even had me wondering how it would feel to kiss her.

Aimee had curves. For a twenty-year-old woman, they were remarkable, the sort of woman you'd see gracing a lingerie catalogue for women who had a larger chest, shall we say. I knew she had D-cup tits, simply because I'd flat out asked her cup size. She'd laughed, thought it was cute I was interested, and just satisfied my curiosity. Great pair of legs too.

My mother had gorgeous blonde hair. That was her natural hair colour, anyway. She went through periods of colouring it, sometimes a strawberry blonde, though I'd admit she looked fantastic as a brunette. At the moment, her colour was natural, though the colouring meant it was slightly darker than it used to be. No sign of any grey just yet. Like me, she had blue eyes, and even after three kids, she was rather slim, thanks to a healthy diet and exercise. She enjoyed yoga and I'd walked in on her in certain positions more than once. She'd smirk at the look on my face as I'd hurry to my bedroom, feeling a little awkward.

She also had a smaller chest than her two daughters at only a B-cup, but I knew she loved wearing lingerie, as I helped with chores around the house, and dealt with all the underwear in the house when doing the washing. Yes, I took an interest in their underwear, just satisfying my curiosity. Never wanted to ever take a pair for other reasons. Did I take a whiff of their scent every so often though?

Yes. I don't feel guilty about that. Call it curiosity. Call me a perv. It was something a little naughty. Fairly sure they knew I did it too.

After getting out of my suit, I joined my mother and sister outside by the pool, no surprise they were already on a pair of sunlounges. Both of them whistled at seeing me in only my swim shorts. I'll admit that I could look in the mirror now and see the maturity in my face and in my body. Years of weight training as I prepared my body had given me definition. I had darker hair than anyone in the family, the one reminder of my father, but blue eyes like my mother. My nose had been broken once, and while it set, it did remain slightly dented. Mum said it gave my face 'character'. Well, as long as I wasn't an ugly fucker! Also had chest hair starting to appear, wondering if I should wax it or not. I'd worry about it later.

Being five-nine, and having to deal with opposition players who could be over six inches taller, and sometimes well over twenty kilos heavier, I'd certainly had to spend years toughening up. Even at eighteen, I'd already had a myriad of minor injuries. Broken a few fingers. Damaged ligaments in a knee, which had thankfully healed completely. And a nasty concussion when I was fifteen. Took a knee straight to the head, which was a complete accident, but I was out of it for a couple of weeks.

Sliding into the pool, I enjoyed the cold water as it was a hot January day. The sun was beating down and I knew I'd have to put on some cream soon. I had a healthy tan as I spent more time outside then in. Mum didn't tan too often, aware that too much sun would take away some of the youthful glow, and she was looking rather pale nowadays, while Aimee was sensible when it came to tanning.

"Come put some cream on us," Mum called, "And we'll put some on you."

I'd done this more times than I could count. Did I get excited doing it? Of course I did. My mother was an attractive mature woman, while Aimee was a drop dead gorgeous curvy brunette bombshell. Did anyone make it awkward? No. If I got hard while doing it, there might be a giggle from them, I'd chuckle, then I'd be complimented on my strong hands. Needed strong hands when it comes to handling a football or palming someone in the face when breaking a tackle.

Mum moaned softly a couple of times as I started massaging her shoulders before moving down her back towards her firm little bum. As always, she was wearing a bikini, this one a rather fetching red colour, chuckling to myself as she giggled when I creamed up her bum before moving down her legs to her feet. Thanking me, I then moved over to Aimee, who'd already undone the string on her white bikini top. She was only a little thicker than her mother, and I loved digging my fingers into her body. After finishing her off, I slapped her bum, laughing away before leaping into the pool.