Chapter Text
There was something beautiful about the pitch in the morning, dew frosting over the bright green blades of grass. The air was still, quiet in the best way. It was like something had been reset overnight, restored to it’s factory settings.
Lisa smiled as she bent down, running her hands over the perfectly manicured grass lightly.
She’d been waiting for this moment for years, kept her head down and worked hard, proven herself. But she’d be lying if she said that she wasn’t extremely surprised she was here. It was a long-shot when she applied for the job, just like every other job she’d been turned down from.
She stood back up, closing her eyes and breathing in deep. She loved the smell of the fresh air, the freshly mowed lawn, the glow of the sun rising over the stands, the faint mist that hovers over the pitch.
Here goes nothing.
Walking across the pitch, she moved towards the front doors of the club. Her hand came up to rest on the door handle, only to find herself hesitating.
One foot in front of the other.
Swinging the door open, she stepped forward into Weatherfield FC, taking in her surroundings. She never thought she’d be coaching a men’s team in the EPL. Not that coaching an EPL team wasn’t her dream, but as a woman, she didn’t think she’d ever get the opportunity. There’d only ever been one female coach in the history of the EPL, and Lisa hoped really hoped she wouldn’t be a part of a one step forward, three steps back type of scenario if she failed.
She loved coaching girls, loved fighting the fight for them, but this was a whole new challenge that Lisa couldn’t pass up. So when owner Carla Connor called her, offering her the job, she jumped at the chance.
She looked around, seeing the banners and the photos that lined the walls throughout the entrance and down the hallway. She slowly took in all the photographs on the wall. Photos of past players, players she looked up to when she was a kid, players that came along after her time, players that were currently on the team.
A soft smile rested on her face as she stepped down the hallway, her eyes never leaving the images in front of her.
She’d read up on the team when she applied for the job, not that she hadn’t been following closely along to their stats, but the history of the club was an interesting one.
Carla Connor, ex-wife of Peter Barlow. By all reports, she got the club in the divorce, he got the mistress.
She’d seen a few pictures of Carla Connor, and honestly, Lisa couldn’t tell you how anyone could cheat on that.
“Are you here for the tour?” A voice pulled her out of her thoughts, turning to see a taller man, balding, looking slightly off-put but also bewildered at the same time.
“I’m sorry?” Lisa asked, her eyebrow raising slightly.
“The tour,” he responded, gesturing behind him “You’re a bit early but I could give you one right now,”
Lisa smiled. This man had no idea who she was. Perfect.
“That would be lovely, actually,” Lisa nodded “My first time here,”
“Come on, then,” he said, turning and gesturing for her to follow him down the hallway “I’m Kirk,”
“Lisa,” she smiled in return as they walked along “So, Kirk, what do you do here?”
“I’m the kit man,” he said indifferently. His voice projected far, Lisa suspected he wouldn’t know how to talk quietly in any situation “I’m not much into football but I’m good at it,”
“Not much into football, aye?” Lisa asked him “Sounds like an interesting place to go for a job,”
Kirk shrugged “I like being in charge of the refreshments,”
Lisa smiled again. Kirk seemed like he had it all figured out, didn’t take it too seriously. They could use more of that in this world.
“Are you a football fan?” Kirk asked her “Must be if you’re here for a tour this early in the morning,”
“Big fan,”
“I’m surprised you’re here, and not at the birds' club down the road,” Kirk said, looking over at her “Y’know, bein’ a bird an’ all that,”
Lisa couldn’t help but laugh, getting the feeling that Kirk didn’t have much of a filter.
“Well, I do love to watch the women play, but I guess I was drawn to this club,” Lisa said as Kirk weaved her through the hallways, pointing out room after room as they passed. The gym, the locker room and what was presumably her office, the boot room—gross—and even the random supply closet under the stairs.
She enjoyed chatting to Kirk. He was interesting, if a little odd, but she liked that about him.
When they reached the bottom of a staircase, Kirk stopped “The owner’s office is up there, but I don’t think I can show you that,”
“Oh yeah?” Lisa cocked her head to the side, looking up the staircase “I wouldn’t mind saying hello,”
“Mrs Connor’s a very busy lady,” Kirk said, glancing up the stairs.
“I’m sure she is,” Lisa muttered before turning back to him “Care to introduce us?”
Kirk looked hesitant for a moment but soon shrugged it away and led her up the stairs, Lisa following closely behind.
Her heart began to race. It wasn’t like she’d never met powerful people before, or worked for powerful people before. Lisa prided herself in being able to hold her own in those situations, it’s why people respected her. But this was different.
She was already in way over her head with this. And Lisa knew from the moment she stepped foot into this office and introduced herself, all eyes were on her. And she couldn’t put a foot wrong.
Kirk knocked and entered without waiting for a response, and a voice yelled out.
“What’s the point of knocking if you’re gonna walk right in?”
“You asked us to knock before we entered,” Kirk said, and Lisa spotted the woman on the other side of her desk, head not even looking up.
“What do you want, Kirk?”
“Mrs Connor, this is Lisa, she wanted to say hello,” Kirk said, stepping aside to reveal Lisa behind him.
Carla’s head shot up, and Lisa watched as Carla froze for half a second before she was up and out of her seat “Thank you, Kirk, you can go now,” she dismissed him, making him shrug and turn around, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.
Carla circled her desk, a smile reaching her face as she approached Lisa “Ms Swain,” she said, holding out her hand for Lisa to shake “Carla Connor,”
“Ms Connor, it’s very nice to meet you,” Lisa replied, taking her hand in her own.
God, she was gorgeous. She was taller than Lisa, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders, tailored suit pants and silk shirt clinging to her like a second skin. Her green eyes pierced Lisa’s, deep and ocean-like. Her cheekbones were sharp but her hands were soft, Lisa had to remind herself to let go.
How the hell Peter Barlow could walk away from her was a mystery.
“Welcome to Weatherfield,” Carla smiled at her “How about a tour?”
“Well, Kirk already gave me one,” Lisa said, gesturing to now closed door that the man just exited through “It was informative,”
“Sorry about him, he means well but he doesn’t use the noggin very often,” Carla said before gesturing to the couch in her office, encouraging her to sit down “How have you been finding Weatherfield so far?”
“We’ve only been here a few days, but I like it, it’s nice and quiet,” Lisa said, taking a seat on the couch. Carla smelt good, just another thing to tick off on her list of things that was impressive about the other woman, Lisa had to keep herself focused on the task at hand.
“The people here are…interesting,” Carla said carefully, obviously choosing her words wisely “You get used to it,”
Lisa nodded before shifting in her seat slightly “I’m not gonna lie, I’m extremely surprised that I’m here,”
“Why? You don’t think you can do it?” Carla asked her, eyebrows furrowing.
Lisa scoffed slightly, shaking her head “No, nothing like that,” she said “It’s just…random. I’m random,”
Carla nodded slightly as she considered her words, clearly wondering how to approach this “Well, you are random, yes,” she started, before shrugging “But isn’t everyone? You think I was ever on a path to own a football club, of all places? That was random. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t right,”
Lisa searched her face, looking for anything that would give the brunette away. She found nothing.
“Look, I know what you’ve done for the WSL, bringing your team back from the bottom, back to the top of the league…” Carla started, her eyes never leaving Lisa’s “Weatherfield has had alright years, and bad years, but we haven’t had any good ones for a long time, I’m hoping a shake-up will get us back to where we need to be, and I think you’re the person to do it,”
Carla’s face gave away nothing, nothing that she was holding back, nothing that she was lying about, their eyes not leaving one another.
“Okay,” Lisa said, averting her gaze and straightening her back, sitting up straight “When do the lads usually start rocking up?”
Carla looked at her watch “Right about now, I’ll take you down and introduce you,”
“I’ve done some research on their game but I think I’d like to watch them today,” she continued as they stood up off the couch “My assistant coach will be here later this afternoon,”
“Ah, yes, Kit Green,” Carla said, rounding the other side of her desk, swiping something off of it before she came to a stop in front of to Lisa again. She held up a lanyard with a whistle, Weatherfield’s black and blue, colouring the lanyard “I believe this belongs to you, Coach Swain,” she smirked at her.
Lisa felt a little bit weak in the knees.
From the gesture of the whistle being offered to her, and from the woman stood holding it up. Confidence exuded from this woman—shoulders back, chin up, eyes bright, smirk present. She was intimidating and alluring all at the same time.
“Thank you, Ms Connor,” Lisa said, taking the whistle from the other woman, and putting it over her head to hang around her neck.
“Suits you,” Carla smirked at her as she turned away. Lisa hoped that she’d miss the blush creeping up her neck as the owner swiped her phone off her desk “Alright, I’ll introduce you to the team, shall I?”
“Let’s do it,”
Carla led them down to the stairs and towards the locker room where Lisa could hear the sounds of rowdy boys greeting each other in the morning. They stepped foot into the locker room, Carla waiting patiently for them to notice their presence, but they were too preoccupied joking around.
Lisa spotted one lad off to the side, lacing up his boots who clocked them right away.
“Oi!” He yelled at the rest of the team, getting their attention “Boss is here,”
The men slowly piped down, and they all came to stand at attention.
It was funny, rowdy boys joking around, now standing to attention, hands clasped together in front, all looking at Ms Connor. Her mere presence commanded the room. Lisa could tell they respected her, if not feared her.
She caught a few side glances her way, obviously everyone wondering who the hell she was.
“Good morning, lads,” Carla started as soon as they were silent “As you well know, Mr Bronte has moved on from coaching at Weatherfield, which means we now have a new coach,” Carla stepped to the side slightly, to leave room for everyone to be able to see Lisa “Meet Lisa Swain, the new head coach at Weatherfield AFC,”
The room was silent and Lisa stood there somewhat awkwardly “Hi, lads,” was all she could come up with.
The players all looked around at each other, no one really knowing what to say “Is this a joke?”
Lisa could’ve laughed. She should’ve laughed. But she didn’t, she kept her face neutral as Carla sent them all a glare.
“No, Brody, why, do you think this is a joke?” Carla asked them sternly “Have you got something to say?”
“No, ma’am,” Brody shook his head.
Lisa could feel the tension in the room. Of course this was how this was going to start. A woman coaching an EPL team, it was as rare as Bigfoot. She knew she had to prepare for this.
“Listen, I know I’m not what you had in mind for a coach, but I can guarantee you, I’m good at what I do,” Lisa started.
“Girl’s football, you mean?” Another lad piped up.
“I didn’t realise they were different sports,” Carla snapped, silencing him, and then addressing the rest of the room “You want to talk about men’s football? You think that’s what you’ve been playing? Because from where I’m standing, 12 year olds would run circles around you, so how about we give this a shot, and see if you can improve,”
Lisa’s heart was racing at Carla yelling at the team. This is what she imagines Carla would have to be like in a board room, in male-dominated rooms, in rooms where people underestimate her.
With that, Carla stalked out, slamming the door behind her.
The locker room fell silent once again. Tension so thick you could cut it with one of Carla’s cheekbones.
Lisa knew there was nothing that she could say that would get them onside, she would just have to show them.
“Alright, lads, I’ll see you out on the pitch,” she said, turning around and entering her now-office for the first time, closing the door behind her.
She sat down at her desk, taking a deep breath. She could see through the glass into the locker room. They boys were muttering amongst themselves, shaking their heads as they continued to get ready to hit the pitch.
Girls were so much easier. Although they came with their own trust issues, their own challenges, she never had to prove herself as a woman.
This was going to be an uphill battle and she knew it.
Carla looked out at the pitch from her office window. She saw Lisa sitting in the stands, just observing. That’s what she said she was going to do, still, it was weird to see it. She was used to the men yelling from the sidelines.
She wasn’t used to not having to be aggressive with the coach. Ever since Peter left and she took the club, she had to fight in every single room. Even before then, having any sort of say, she was just the wife. Always seen—and ogled—but never heard.
All her marriages had been like that, really. So after Peter left to sail around the world with his mistress, she decided ‘no more’. No more being quiet in the presence of men, no more hiding herself away to make no noise in a room she wasn’t welcome, no more was she sitting back and letting people walk all over her.
A change was needed in the club. She’d be damned if she ran things like her husband did. Testosterone, alcohol-filled bullshit that left everyone on edge. The lads loved him, but Carla despised him by the end.
Peter acted like she was his equal in life, but he had proven time and time again that she was just the woman, and women didn’t belong in football.
So, when he fucked off, she hired Lisa Swain.
She hadn’t intended to hire a woman in the beginning, her brain automatically going to the men. But when she took a step back, she asked; why the fuck not?
Why the fuck didn’t she shake things up? Why the fuck wouldn’t she give a woman a go?
So that’s what she did. She hired the most qualified woman she could find, one that the women's league loved.
Still, it was strange to see a woman on the side of the pitch, observing her team of lads. And the butterflies when she first laid eyes on her? Well, that was definitely strange.
She, of course, knew what Lisa Swain looked like. Carla had done as much research as she could before making the decision. But coming face-to-face with her, she was breathtaking. Her eyes alone made Carla swoon—bright, green, and big. The hair was a nice touch, Carla wondered if it were as soft as it looked.
And that smile? Well, that’s when the butterflies woke up.
Carla knew the boys weren’t going to make it easy for Lisa. Knew that having not one, but two women in charge was going to test them in the best and worst possible ways.
And that made Carla feel guilty. Because Lisa seemed nice, kind even, and she was about to put her through the ringer.
But Carla was all in, now, and there was no turning back. The contracts were signed, the coach was here, assistant coach on the way.
Carla watched the boys train on the pitch, run through drills. Lisa had them in a scratch match, obviously trying to see where everyone’s strengths and weaknesses lie. At least, that’s what Carla was assuming. She might just be watching them play for fun.
There wasn’t much information about Lisa online, her private life under lock and key. Carla wished she had that sort of anonymity these days, especially from those fucks calling themselves journalists.
And as Carla gazed down at the woman in the stands—notebook in hand, writing notes as she watched over the players—she found herself wanting to know more about her. What kind of coach was she going to be? Was she patient? Did she raise her voice? Was she encouraging?
What was she like with her hair down? Was she elusive? Was she soft? Did she have a family? She didn’t spot a ring, not on her left hand anyway. Did she have kids?
A pang of guilt rippled through Carla.
She couldn’t get to know her, wouldn’t get to know her. The funny thing is, if she let herself, she might even find herself liking the blonde.
It’s a shame that Lisa was going to become collateral damage when Carla burnt this place to the ground.