double update - read 21 first!

"I'm starting to think that I should've watched 101 Dalmatians after the match to undo whatever I did by ranking Earl's death as the most traumatic dog based incident I have witnessed," Billie sighed as she stood beside Coach Beard and Nate, watching chaos unfold on the training pitch.

"I'm not sure it works like that, Billie," Nate muttered.

"Well, we don't know, do we?" Billie exhaled, "I could've reversed that curse just like we reversed the curse in the treatment room."

"I hear you," Beard nodded slowly.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, fellas, and Billie," Ted smiled as he appeared beside the small group, "I was helping the boss pick out a nail polish colour for her date tonight," He held up his hand to show them his nails, "My favourite's blue, but I think they all kind of rock."

"Blue, definitely." Billie nodded in agreement.

"We got a situation, Coach," Beard told his friend, hating to be the bearer of bad news.

"He's underselling, we have a Shakespearean fucking tragedy," Nate interjected frantically as the three coaches and Billie watched Isaac approach Dani with the ball as he stood on the penalty spot.

"Come on, Dani, one more time, yeah?" Isaac placed the ball on the spot in front of the striker's feet, "Have another go."

The coaches and the rest of the team watched in anticipation as Dani prepared to take the penalty, taking a few steps back and then running at the ball. But Dani's usual precise touch of the ball was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the football, which was long gone, somewhere over the fence.

"How many's he missed?" Ted asked as Dani exclaimed in Spanish.

"All of them," Beard sighed in dismay.

"Oh, boy," Ted muttered, "Hey, Dani!" Ted approached the young man, "Come on, son, let's take a walk."

"Wow, we're watching the end of someone's career," The ever honest, Jan Maas commented as Ted and Dani began slowly strolling around the pitch.

"Not now, Jan," Sam sighed.

"Hey, Billie," Colin approached her while the rest of the team watched Ted and Dani walk, Beard close on their tail, "Are we still on for Bake Off tonight?"

"No can do," Billie shook her head, "I've got this triple date thing with Keeley and Rebecca."

"You've got a date?" Colin nudged his friend with a smile, noting how low she'd been since the relegation and her brother's retirement.

"It's not a real date," Billie rolled her eyes, "Alfie's acting as my plus one."

"Oh, right." Colin nodded.

"But, I'll be there next week," Billie assured him, "I never miss chocolate week."

"Hey, fellas, line up for Midnight Poutine!" Ted shouted from the corner of the pitch where he stood with Dani and Beard.

"That's your call," Billie told her Welsh friend, "Back to work, Boyo."

Billie stood beside Nate as they watched Dani prepare to take the corner while Ted stood beside him for reassurance, but the corner kick never came. Dani kicked the ball and hit Ted straight in the back of his thigh, causing the team to wince in sympathy.

"I might have to cancel this date business for an impromptu movie night, reverse this curse with 101 Dalmatians." Billie sighed as she watched Ted assure Dani that he was absolutely fine and by no means in pain...despite the limp.

"Is this just your way of finding an excuse to watch a kid's film despite your seven year old niece not being there?" Nate muttered softly.

"Yes, I think that's exactly what this is," Billie nodded.

"Well, gang, I am more stumped than Paul Bunyan's local forest, you know the-" Ted cut himself off as he winced in pain when sitting on his office chair, Beard, Nate, Billie and Higgins wincing in support, "Any ideas?"

"If Dani needs motivation, we could always show him his goddamn paycheck," Nate suggested as he sat on top of the shelving unit.

"I mean that's a tad aggressive, you know," Ted sighed, "But hey, I shouldn't bring an umbrella to a brainstorm, so I appreciate you getting the ball rolling, Nate."

"I think he loves football so much, he'd play for free, money is definitely not his motivator," Billie added.

"Seems like the first thing we need to do is define the issue, yeah?" Higgins suggested.

"I think we already know what it is, don't we, Coach?" Beard replied, writing something on his clipboard.

"What you talking about, Willis?" Ted asked as Beard showed the room what he had written, "Hey, you're not supposed to say that out loud."

"Which is why I wrote it down," Beard told him.

"The yips?" Nate frowned as Beard and Ted shushed him dramatically.

"What are the yips?" Higgins asked, equally as confused.

"Are you kidding me?" Ted exclaimed as Beard tossed his clipboard on the floor, scrambled from his seat and dramatically slammed the office door, to protect the innocent ears of their footballing stars, "We don't say the Y-word out loud, you understand? It's like saying Macbeth at a theatre, or Voldemort at Hogwarts."

"Or Simon Cowell at a One Direction concert," Billie muttered.

"But what are the yips?" Nate asked, mouthing the last two words.

"It's when, just out of nowhere, an athlete suddenly can't do the basic fundamentals of their sport," Beard explained.

"Yeah, you know, like Chuck Knoblauch's throw to fist, or Charles Barkley's golf swing," Ted told the group, "You guys know what I mean?"

Higgins and Nate remained clueless, but Billie, sister of a footballing legend, had a good idea, "It's like if Tom Daley couldn't jump off a diving board."

"Sometimes being here is like being in a foreign country, you feel that?" Ted asked Beard who simply nodded.

"Ted, what are your thoughts on therapy?" Higgins asked.

"General apprehension and a modest Midwestern scepticism, why do you ask?" Ted replied.

"Well, maybe we should bring in a sports psychologist," Higgins suggested, "I know a lot of other clubs have had tremendous success with that."

"It's not a bad idea, Coach," Beard added in agreement.

"Billie, you got any thoughts?" Ted asked the young woman who had become an honorary member of the group in the past few months, spending more time in the coaches' office than her own, "You think of these boys like your brothers, would you want your brother to do therapy?"

"My actual brother or my hypothetical Mexican brother?" Billie raised her eyebrows.

"Hypothetical."

"I mean I don't see a better option, you need a striker who can score goals, especially penalties," Billie replied honestly.

"Would you do therapy?" Ted asked.

"I don't need to do therapy," Billie answered, which was debatable.

"Okay, let me think here, let me get my thinking thing on," Ted muttered as he closed his eyes before opening them and shaking his head, "Yeah, let's do it."

Billie Kent wasn't the sort of person who made a habit of living with regrets, but one thing she did regret was agreeing to going on a triple date with Alfie, Roy, Keeley, Rebecca and her new man who's conversation was drier than a stale Ryvita.

Which is how when Rebecca's new man, assuming they were a couple, took a moment to ask Alfie and Billie how they met, they decided to be somewhat fast and loose with the truth. Alfie, being Alfie, decided to base their 'meet cute' story off of the plot of Dirty Dancing, claiming that he was fluent in Latin dancing and met Billie at a holiday camp where he was working, and while teaching her to dance they fell in love.

John was so wrapped up in which of his own stories he was going to tell next that he fell for every word.

"And now, we're nose to nose with one another, and half of me is thinking, 'just kick this jerk in the balls and when he bends over, give him a knee to the nose and be done with it, because screw this guy,'" John told the table as Rebecca and Keeley listened with enthusiasm while Roy, Billie and Alfie were silently debating whether shots of tequila were unacceptable in such an establishment, "And the other half of me is thinking, 'but it's Martin Short, you love Martin Short.'"

"Who the fuck is Martin Short?" Billie mouthed to Alfie across the table.

"You have a media degree!" Alfie mouthed back with enthusiasm.

"Well, the next thing you know, this tiny American woman says, 'is that it?'" John continued with a terrible American accent, "And sure enough, there it was, wedged between the couch cushions, Martin Short's wallet."

"Martin Short's Wallet," Rebecca added, as though to make the story sound more engaging, "I mean, he didn't steal it."

"That's insane." Keeley remarked.

"That's madness," Roy sighed, before attempting to stop a waiter, "Could I get another one, please?"

"Almost as interesting as the time I didn't steal Niall Horan's car keys," Billie scoffed under her breath.

"God, I never knew that meet and greets at Broadway shows could be such hotbeds for, like, almost violence," Keeley replied.

"Oh, big time, but who cares about Martin Short when you're sitting next to 'he's here, he's there, he's every-fucking-where, Roy Kent,'" John remarked and Billie could tell that her brother wished the ground would swallow him up.

"John's football-mad," Rebecca told the table.

"Oh, terrific," Roy faked enthusiasm, "Who do you support?"

"Well, I bounce back and forth between United and City, whichever club's winning, typically," John explained, "I love it."

"We're actually a bit of a Manchester City free zone at the moment," Alfie muttered, just loud enough for the table to hear, earning daggers from Billie and a quick kick to the shin under the table.

"Oh, yes, of course," John turned his attention to Billie, "You and Jamie Tartt, no one saw that coming."

"Me neither," Billie scoffed, aware that he was referring to those paparazzi photos from their drive through Chelsea.

"How did that end between you?" John asked, assuming that the pair must have been together, "Amicable, I hope."

"I won't be getting you seats in the box at City if that's what you're asking," Billie quipped, "Not that he's there at the moment."

"Must be weird, watching your ex on TV, especially Lust Conquers All," John continued to pry, everyone except him at the table aware that she was stringing him along, even though Keeley and Alfie knew there was a slither of truth to her words, not that they were ever anything that constituted being called 'exes'.

"Not as weird as hearing about Martin Short's wallet," Billie muttered under her breath, "No, who am I kidding, it's not weird, it's wonderful, because I have found the love of my life haven't I, babe?" She turned to Alfie, placing her hand on top of his.

Alfie had to stop himself from laughing at their over the top charade, which everyone at the table, except John knew about.

"And I'm lucky to have you," Alfie took her hand in his and kissed it as Rebecca and Keeley watched on in confusion and Roy had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his sister's performance.

"So, how's retirement, Roy?" John looked at Billie's older brother once he realised he wasn't getting any more Jamie Tartt related gossip, "I can't imagine how different your life must be now, you must miss it all like mad."

"I don't." Roy shook his head, even though Billie and Keeley knew that wasn't the truth.

"So, what are you doing now, then?" John asked.

"Oh, you know, busy, busy," Roy replied, "I'm actually doing a bit of coaching at the moment."

"I hadn't heard that, fantastic," John remarked, clearly expecting it to be a league level club.

"Yeah, we got a cup final next week," Roy replied.

"In October...what cup is that?" John asked.

"West London under-nine girls," Roy answered before turning to the passing waiter with his empty glass, "Can I get another one, please?"

"He's actually had an offer from Sky Sports to be a pundit," Keeley told the table as though there was a need to compensate, because legends like Roy Kent didn't just spend their retirement coaching their niece's football team.

"Oh, of course you have, you'd be amazing at that job," John remarked with intrigue.

"I love that idea," Rebecca added.

"I couldn't agree more," Keeley smiled.

"Can I just say that your retirement speech was amazing, it's the first time my father's forwarded me an email in the last five years that wasn't about the scourge of immigration, and that really meant a lot to me, so thank you," John nodded with sincerity.

"Well, our parents couldn't even be bothered to come, something about not wanting to miss EastEnders," Billie muttered as her brother elbowed her.

"It must've been super weird afterwards though, right?" John remarked.

As another waiter passed the table Roy grabbed his arm, holding up his empty glass, "I'm gonna need two more of these, please."

And that was more or less how the rest of the evening went, Roy plying himself with drinks to make the whole thing more bearable while Billie and Alfie resorted to humour.

Alfie and Billie hung back with Roy and Keeley as they stood outside the restaurant watching Rebecca say goodbye to John. Alfie had his arm slung lazily around Billie's shoulders, half alcohol induced, half to further push the 'love's young dream' narrative they'd been making up the whole night.

"This whole night has been one fucking weird thing after the other," Roy sighed as he looked between his sister and Alfie, "This being one of them."

"Come on, it easily made it more bearable, especially when he started talking about the haunted hotel room he stayed in on a trip to Boston," Billie remarked with a smile.

"He's the sort of man who would start a podcast just to talk about himself," Alfie replied as Roy smirked at how true the statement was.

"God, don't let him hear you say that," Roy huffed.

"I thought he seemed nice," The ever lovely Keeley, who was always happy to give the benefit of the doubt added.

"Night," John waved to the four of them before climbing into his car.

"Cheers." Roy nodded.

"Bye," Billie and Keeley waved before they all joined Rebecca.

"Well?" Rebecca remarked hopefully.

"I think he's a really good match," Keeley insisted, "I mean, he's age appropriate, financially appropriate, he's not shy."

"Definitely not shy." Billie muttered.

"I love that about him," Rebecca replied.

"Totally."

"Fucking hell," Roy exclaimed.

"Is there a problem?" Rebecca frowned.

"Tell the truth," Roy looked to Billie and Keeley, "He's fine, that's it, nothing wrong with that, most people are fine, but it's not about him, it's about why the fuck you think he deserves you."

Roy's words struck a chord with his sister, because she knew they were also directed at her, because she had never really known her own worth. He really wanted to see her happy, and putting herself first, she hadn't been doing much of that ever really.

"You deserve someone who makes you feel like you've been struck by fucking lightning, don't you dare settle for fine."

It was true, Brad had never been the lightning, in the same way John hadn't.

"Not that it's any of my business." Roy corrected himself.

"435, 436, 437, 438, 439, 440-" Nate counted as Ted and Beard hit a ball of paper back and forth between them while Billie sat beside him on the shelving unit, looking through the most recent photos from training.

"Higgins, look alive!" Ted exclaimed, batting the paper ball towards Higgins who had just entered the room, suddenly startled as the paper ball fell to the floor, "Oh, nuts."

"Sorry," Higgins sighed as Billie looked up from her laptop to see that he was joined by a woman she didn't recognise, "I just wanted to introduce Dr Sharon Fieldstone, she's gonna be looking after Dani," He told the coaches, "This is Billie, Nathan, Coach Beard and Ted Lasso."

"Good to meet you, Dr Fieldstone," Billie offered the woman a smile, aware of how daunting the club could be on a first day, especially as a woman.

"Likewise." Sharon nodded as Ted stood up from his desk, "Oh, you don't need to stand."

"But it makes it a lot easier to do this," Ted replied as he started to dance in a circle, "It's nice to meet you, it's nice to meet you, consider this song our way to greet you!"

"So I understand that Dani has developed a case of the yips?" Sharon replied, choosing not to acknowledge the unique greeting, which Billie was relieved by.

"Aye!" Ted and Beard winced.

"Okay, that's two weird things in a row, what's going on?" Dr Sharon asked.

"Well, Doc, we don't like using that word around here," Ted explained.

"Why?"

"How do I..." Ted muttered as everyone in the room looked at him, "Why y'all looking at me?"

"You're the head coach, and until yesterday Nate, Higgins and I didn't know what that word meant," Billie explained.

"He's the one that knows everything," Ted pointed to Beard, "Oh, okay, alright, well, Doc-"

"Doctor." Sharon replied promptly and Billie instantly knew Dr Sharon was going to get on just fine.

"Right, yes of course, sorry," Ted corrected himself, "Doctor, it's a suspicion."

"I see, well, the yips," Sharon replied as both Ted and Beard winced, "Are not a superstition, they are a mental condition, one that can be fixed with discipline, not denial."

"Sounds like my father could do with some of that," Billie muttered to herself.

"So, then, you're pretty confident that you can help us out with Dani?" Ted remarked gleefully.

"Are you good at your job?" Dr Sharon replied.

"I mean..." Ted trailed off, looking to his colleagues for support.

"Don't worry about them," Sharon replied firmly, "Put all bullshit humility aside and be honest with me, are you good at your job, yes or no?"

"Erm, yes," Ted answered.

"I believe you," Sharon assured him, "Well, as good as you are at your job, I'm twice as good at mine.

"We're very lucky to have you," Ted nodded.

"Thank you for coming here," Beard added.

"Right, so where should I be conducting my sessions?" She asked.

"Why don't I set you up in my office?" Higgins suggested.

"Great," Doctor Sharon nodded, "Nice meeting all of you and sorry to have interrupted your game, what's your record?"

"Oh, 1236." Nate answered proudly.

"Impressive." Dr Sharon remarked before leaving the room with Higgins.

Waiting until the coast was clear, Beard turned to the remains of the group, "She seems fun."

"I can already tell she's a remarkable lady, like the sort of lady who has her shit together," Billie told the men, "I just know that the inside of her house is pristine."

As the day of work came to an end it seemed that normal service had resumed across AFC Richmond. Dr Sharon had managed to work wonders with Dani, restoring him to his former self, Billie and Keeley had been smashing it with their media and marketing projects in their shared office that was also connected to a small studio space for photography.

Billie had then made her way to yoga night where she met her brother. Colin had offered to drive her, feeling a new found sense of confidence following a meeting with Dr Sharon, turning to Billie briefly and insisting that she should try therapy.

"You've just been a bit in your head recently, Bils." He'd told his friend, because he had a genuine concern for her happiness.

To which she quickly responded, "I have not been in my own head."

Which is how she wound up at her weekly yoga session with her brother and several middle aged women who were all delighted to see the young Welsh man dropping her off in his expensive sports car. So she spent most of the evening insisting that Colin was and would never be more than a friend.

"So, Billie, tell us, any dates lined up?" Maureen asked her as they sat on the sofa, post yoga session, while Roy was at the other end of the room on the phone to Keeley.

"Not right now, Maureen," Billie sighed, looking down at her chipped sky blue nails, "I just don't think I'm ready for any of that."

"Because of Brad?" Maureen nodded in support as Karen handed them both a substantial glass of rosé.

"Because of Brad," Billie replied, knowing that all the women knew about her past relationship, all being tabloid and gossip magazine lovers, "He gave me a lifetime's worth of headfucks in the space of three years, I think they call this my healing era or whatever."

"Good for you, sweetheart," Karen nodded as she sat beside the young woman, "But, my friend Denise has a son a few years older than you who's recently single, if you're interested."

"I'll bear that in mind," Billie answered with a smile, glancing at the TV as the adverts came to an end, "What's on tonight?"

"Lust Conquers All," Maureen told her, and Billie had never wanted the ground to swallow her up more than in that moment. She'd previously told the women the truth about those photos of her and Jamie, explaining that they had only ever been just friends, so it wasn't like she had a reasonable excuse to leave the room, she'd just have to sit through it.

"Roy, hurry up, it's about to start," Maureen called out to Roy who was quick to end his phone call.

"Let's fucking do this," Roy made his way over to the women, sitting on the floor between Billie and Janice.

Billie watched as the programme started and the contestants were sat around the firepit with the host, Fleur, standing at the front, presenting to the camera. He had changed, his once spiky quiff had grown out and been slicked back, and as much as she hated to admit it, he still looked good.

"Who will be eliminated this week on the UK's number one show, Lust Conquers All?" Fleur addressed the camera, "Will it be Grimsby's top makeup counter associate, Ellie?"

"Can't vote me off, I'm the one who makes your lips tick," The blonde woman spoke to the camera in the diary room.

"Oh, shut up, you slag," Karen scoffed as the other ladies laughed.

"Or will it be the footballing tart, Jamie?" Fleur continued.

"You can't get rid of me," He told the camera and Billie could have melted at the way his voice sounded so familiar, "I'm the island's top scorer, sexually."

"God, I love him," Karen sighed dramatically.

"Oh, same."

"Try working with him," Billie muttered, knocking back the remainder of her rosé.

"Top up my rosé please, Janice," Roy held his glass out to the woman.

"Ditto," Billie held out her glass too, aware that she would need to be drunk to get through an hour of watching Jamie on TV.

Billie watched as Fleur continued to list the contestants at risk, and as always her eyes fell to Jamie. She hadn't actually sat through a full episode of the show since it started and anyone she'd watched some of it with were her friends who knew about her history with him. None of that stopped her from wondering why he did it, why he'd choose a dating show over playing for one of the top clubs in the Premier League.

She missed him, but she knew that he didn't miss her, it was pretty obvious. He had moved on, so she should just do the same and accept she had just become one of his many girls.

author's note: did someone say 'reunion next chapter?'