by Mike Lupica
“I’m going to put you through as many drills as we have time for,” Coach Cross said. “And I’ll make sure to give each of you the opportunity to show off your agility and ball skills, because I’m sure you all have them. As much as I wish there were more open spots on the team, there just aren’t.”
Then she clapped her hands and said, “Let’s have some fun!”
She led them outside onto the soccer field and divided them into two groups of six.
First she had everyone stand about thirty feet across from each other and kick the ball back and forth as a warm-up and to—as she put it—get a feel for the ball. Alex was paired with Roisin Wright, a transfer student from Ireland who, Alex could tell right away, was a baller herself.
They were in some classes together, and Alex had grown to really like her. She also loved her name, which was pronounced Ro-sheen.
When they stopped for a quick water break, Roisin said to Alex, “You’re good, I can tell.”
“Not as good as you!” Alex said, but she was flattered by the compliment nonetheless.
“Ah,” Roisin said in her lilting accent, “anybody can git themselves lookin’ good.”
Alex giggled, but she could tell Roisin was just being modest. It was clear to anyone that Roisin had mad skills.
The next drill included various dribbling exercises. First dribbling a ball up and down the field by yourself, then pairing up. After that they practiced throw-ins, and Coach Cross explained that throw-ins might be one of the most underappreciated skills in soccer, because a good, quick, hard throw-in after a change of possession could be as important as a pass with your feet.
“And,” she said, “if you’re not the goalie, it’s the only time you get to use your hands!”
At the next water break Coach Cross came over to Alex on the sidelines.
“You’re the quarterback, right?” she said.
Alex smiled. “Well,” she said, “I think Patrick Mahomes is the quarterback. I just played for the Owls last season.”
“From what I heard, you did a lot more than that,” Coach Cross said before running back onto the field, blowing her whistle to get everyone’s attention.
Alex didn’t know how to feel about the coach’s comment. On the one hand, it was nice to hear that she was noticed for her achievements. On the other, it was like an invisible weight had settled over her shoulders. As if she were carrying the responsibility of gender equality for all the girls in the town. It was both humbling and stressful.
Coach Cross announced that they’d be moving on to scoring drills. As they did, Alex noticed that some of the fall season girls were standing by the fence bordering the soccer field. Lindsey was there. So were Annie and Ally McGee.
Roisin poked Alex with an elbow and nodded in their direction.
“I was talkin’ to Lindsey ’bout tryin’ out,” she said. “Wasn’t aware that she practically invented soccer.”
“Hear you,” Alex said. “Pretty sure when she looks in the mirror, she sees Carli Lloyd looking back at her.”
Carli Lloyd—maybe the greatest female US player of them all.
“Lookin’ in the mirror, I’m thinkin’,” Roisin said, “is something Lindsey does a lot.”
When they were back on the field, doing three-on-two drills, Alex felt a sudden pang in her chest, similar to the one she had during football tryouts: all eyes on her, all over again.
This time it was different.
When she’d tried out for football, she thought she might be good enough to play quarterback.
Today, she knew she could play soccer. Not that she’d ever considered herself the star of the team or anything. Even though center middie was a star position. In fact, she’d always thought that Annie had a better all-around game. Carly was great as keeper. And Alex never saw a better defender in their league than Ally McGee. If she’d had to pin down her top skill as a soccer player, it was this:
She made everybody around her better.
And now here she was. Out here again, doing her best to show Coach Cross what she could do. With every drill and each exercise, Alex was reminded of just how much of a team sport soccer was. Everybody involved. Everybody getting to touch the ball. Everybody in constant motion. And that feeling, when the game was over, after your team had won, of knowing each player had done something to make it happen.
There was a reason, Alex thought, why people all over the world called it the most beautiful game.
When there were fifteen minutes left, Coach Cross had them split up six-on-six for a brief scrimmage. She told them to pretend they were playing extra time in a World Cup game. If one team was ahead at the end, the scrimmage was over. If they tied, they’d decide the winner with penalty kicks. One per side.
“Just three rules,” Coach Cross said. “If you’re open, shoot. If your teammate has a better position, pass it, and let her take the shot. Number three is most important: have fun.”
Rashida Wallace, who was trying out for keeper, was on Alex and Roisin’s team. Georgia Garcia played keeper for the opposing side. She was also going out for backup keeper to Carly.
Alex was glad Coach chose to put Roisin at center and Alex to her right. She didn’t want Annie thinking Alex was going out for her spot, especially with her watching from the fence.
Alicia Caulfield, maybe the fastest girl on the field today, was on Roisin’s left.
The scrimmage was a blast. It was as if Roisin and Alex had been playing together all their lives. The other team scored the first two goals. But then Alex scored on a pass from Roisin, right before Alex returned the favor with a sweet left-footed pass to Roisin, who swiftly put the ball behind Georgia in the net.
The scrimmage was tied at 2–2 when Coach blew her whistle and announced it was time for the penalty kicks. The other team selected Afafa Agbayong to take the kick for their side. She’d proven during tryouts that she was among the stronger players on the field today.
Afafa drove toward the ball, pulling her leg back and letting loose, sending the ball low to Rashida’s left. Rashida made an impressive dive and knocked the ball away.
Alex and Roisin’s team now.
Coach looked over and said, “Okay, who’s gonna take it?”
Alex pointed at Roisin. Roisin pointed at Alex. Everyone was giggling, except Alex didn’t realize what they were laughing at until she turned around. The other four players on their team were also pointing toward her.
“Looks like you’re up, Miss Carlisle,” Coach said. “The only dissenting vote appears to be your own.”
Georgia was in the goal now. Coach set the ball. It might not have been the exact ten-yard distance for a PK, but close enough.
As Alex walked out toward the ball, she glanced down to the other end of the field and saw what appeared to be the entire seventh-grade girls’ team watching her.
Yeah, Alex thought, I’m up.
She reached for the ball, picked it up, and spun it, so that the Adidas logo was facing out. Not for any good reason. Just buying herself a little extra time. It’s just a tryout scrimmage, she said to herself. Don’t overhype it. But with everyone watching, it was still a moment, at least for her. She told herself it was the same as always: visualize yourself doing it, then execute.
She stood there, remembering when she and her mom were out in the backyard messing around. The kick Alex made that left her mom butt-down in the grass in front of the goal. The two of them laughing hysterically. But most importantly, the kick that started it all . . .
Alex’s confidence was restored once she’d figured out exactly what she wanted to do.
The goal she’d scored against Georgia earlier had been a right-footer, high over Georgia’s left shoulder. Georgia had no chance at blocking it. She was at a different angle now, but it didn’t matter.
Coach blew the whistle.
; Alex nodded at Georgia.
Georgia nodded at her.
Alex took a deep breath.
Then she took a few paces back and to her left, inhaling deeply before approaching the ball.
She hesitated just slightly as she swung her right leg back, making it look as though she was planning a repeat of her previous goal against Georgia.
Georgia leaned left, ready to dive.
At the last possible moment, Alex squared her shoulders, stepping down on her right foot, and pushed the ball with her left into the wide-open net.
Inside her head, she could almost hear her mom shouting, “Goal!”
Even Georgia nodded good-naturedly from the goal, appreciating the skill it had taken to fake her out that way.
Alex’s teammates cheered and crowded around, clapping her on the back and congratulating her on the win. It wasn’t until the noise subsided and everyone started heading for the locker room that Alex heard slow clapping coming from the fence near the field.
Lindsey.
“Can’t win ’em all,” Alex said to Roisin.
“Sometimes,” Roisin said, “that girl is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.”
Alex laughed, and then Roisin was laughing along with her before they noticed that Lindsey was the last girl on the team still watching. She glared at them before shouldering her backpack and turning toward the late buses.
But nothing, not even Lindsey Stiles’s bad attitude, could bring Alex down.
11
Coach Cross said that the official girls’ soccer roster would be posted on the corkboard outside the gym the following Monday.
Needless to say, for Alex, the wait was agonizing. But Coach Cross said she needed the time to carefully weigh the options. Everyone performed especially well during tryouts, and she owed it to the team not to make any hasty decisions.
The days passed slower than a Zamboni machine polishing ice.
Alex had school and homework and studying, of course, but her mind was 98 percent composed of soccer. Not even a hot chocolate with Sophie at the café in town could take her mind off the subject.
“You’re worrying about nothing, you know,” Sophie said at their table in the corner.
Alex had made it to Saturday. Just two more days until she’d have the answer to her biggest question. Her dad had let her ride her bike into town for a few hours to take her mind off things.
Except her mind was right back on that one thing.
“Am I?” Alex said. “Those girls were all pretty good out there.”
Sophie took a sip from her mug. “Yeah, but don’t forget,” she said, “you made the winning goal. Coach Cross won’t forget that easily.”
Alex shrugged. “Maybe you’re right, but—”
“No buts!” Sophie cut in. “Think positive. Think like a cheerleader!”
Alex laughed. “As long as I don’t have to move like a cheerleader, I think I can handle that.”
“Mmm,” Sophie said, swallowing a mouthful of hot chocolate. “Speaking of—guess who’s helping choreograph our qualifying routine for nationals?”
“No!” Alex said. “For real?”
Sophie beamed, nodding. “I’m supposed to present some of my ideas to the coaches at practice on Monday.”
“Soph!” Alex cried, “That’s amazing!”
Sophie shrugged it off like it was nothing, but Alex knew it was a big deal. Not just for Sophie but for any kid hoping to prove themselves.
“Looks like we both have big things to look forward to on Monday,” she said, winking at Alex.
The two lifted their mugs and clinked them together, just like they had with their sparkling cider on New Year’s.
They were toasting to new beginnings. To new opportunities. And most of all, to friendship.
* * *
• • •
On Monday, Alex could barely pay attention in any of her classes. Her brain was so distracted by the soccer list, she had trouble concentrating. Between each class, she raced to the corkboard to see if the roster had gone up, but every time she was disappointed. Coach Cross was probably waiting to post it until the end of the day, Alex thought.
When the final bell rang, Alex tried to stay calm. She even stopped by her locker first to put away a few books and grab her coat before heading toward the gym.
By the time she got there, though, a crowd had already begun to form. Among the crowd were Jabril, Gabe, Sophie, Roisin, a couple of other girls from tryouts, and the one and only Lindsey Stiles.
“It’s about time!” Jabril said, a smile across his face.
“Looks like we’ll be seeing a bit more of each other, eh, Alex?” Roisin said.
Alex jogged toward the board.
The sheet of paper with the roster was hanging by a red thumbtack.
Alex read through the names. Up top were the girls who’d played on the fall team.
Underneath, the headline read NEW PLAYERS, and below that, three names were listed.
One of them was Alex’s.
The other two belonged to Roisin and Rashida.
“You ready for this, QB?” Gabe said, laying a hand on her shoulder.
Before she could respond, though, Lindsey chimed in, “Yeah. What exactly are you, Alex? A football player or a soccer player?”
Jabril spoke up then. “Didn’t realize you could only be one thing,” he said. “Pretty sure Michael Jordan played both basketball and baseball and no one seemed to mind.”
Lindsey didn’t have an immediate answer for that. Her brows drew inward, and she brushed past Alex down the hall. “See you at practice,” she said as she left.
Gabe rolled his eyes. Sophie just shook her head. But Alex smiled. So did Roisin.
They’d made it, and nothing was going to stop them now.
Not even Lindsey Stiles.
12
Their first official practice was supposed to be after school on Thursday.
As always, the last class of the day ended at three. Practice at four. As soon as the bell rung, and with an hour before they’d all be meeting in the gym, Alex made a stop at the school library. It was her favorite place at Orville Middle. She liked to find her own private corner and read there, getting lost in the books. Adventure-filled fantasies and fascinating biographies. It was nice to escape, even for a few minutes.
When she got there, she walked to a far corner of the big front room, sat herself down on the floor against the shelves, and pulled out Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland from her backpack. She hadn’t decided how many pages she was going to read before practice, though she was determined not to go too fast. That was the trouble with a really good book. Sometimes you had to force yourself to stop so you could enjoy it for longer. Savor every page.
But Alex let herself go this time, flipping pages to find out what would happen next.
Without realizing how much time had passed, she looked up suddenly and saw Annie Burgess standing over her, face red, out of breath, eyes on fire.
“I’ve been looking all over school for you!” Annie said.
Alex quickly checked her phone. It was only three thirty. What was Annie all worked up about?
Alex made a motion with her hands for Annie to keep her voice down. “Library,” she whispered.
Annie sat down next to Alex, almost collapsing onto the floor.
“I thought you might have gone home before practice,” she whispered back. “But I finally ran into Sophie, and she told me where to find you.”
“Just getting some reading in before practice,” Alex said. “What’s going on? I’m not late, am I? I thought practice started at four?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Annie said, even more lit up than before. “There might not even be a practice.”
The librarian, Mrs. Pattison, looked over at them from
the desk at the front of the room, eyebrows raised in irritation.
“Let’s take this outside,” Alex suggested, sliding her book into the side pocket of her backpack and heaving herself up off the floor. She reached a hand down to Annie, pulling her up, and they exited the library, careful not to make unnecessary eye contact with Mrs. Pattison.
When they were out in the hall, Alex said, “What do you mean there might not be a practice? This is the first day of practice.”
They shifted to the side, leaning against a row of lockers.
Annie took in a lot of air and then let it out. She turned to look at Alex, and Alex thought she might cry.
“Why would we practice,” she said, “when there’s not going to be a season?”
“What are you talking about?” Alex said. “We just had tryouts. The team is set.”
Annie pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. “Look,” she said, holding the phone between them.
Alex moved close to Annie, peering over her shoulder. It hadn’t finished loading yet, but Alex saw at the top of the screen the link to the Orville Patch, their town’s local paper.
Annie pointed at the big, screaming headline:
ACROSS THE BOARD SPORTS CUTBACKS IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS
Annie scrolled through the article so Alex could read it.
The story said that because of what was called a budget “shortfall,” and due to diminished contributor funding to the sports programs, the Town Council had no choice but to discontinue some sports, from the middle school through the high school.
One of the programs was seventh-grade spring soccer for girls. Their team. Their sport. Their season.
“What about the boys?” Alex said.
“They still get to have a team,” Annie said.
I just went from reading a story I love to one I totally hate, Alex thought.
“They took our season away!” Annie said.
