Defending Champ

by Mike Lupica

  It wasn’t a total shutout.

  Still a beatdown, by any measure, but they’d put up points, which was better than nothing.

  Both coaches blew their whistles then, signaling the end of practice.

  As the teams strolled off the field, no one dared say anything from either side.

  Chase grinned smugly, but Alex was beginning to think that was his permanent expression.

  As Alex and Roisin walked back toward the gym, Roisin said, “Might a girl ask why there’s a big fat smile on your face after we just caught ourselves a beating like that?”

  Alex took a swig from her water bottle and said, “Best loss I’ve ever had.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because now they think they can beat us like that in front of the whole town,” Alex said.

  Roisin looked confused. “Well, can’t they?”

  Alex took a breath. “Always a possibility,” she said, “but their win accomplished two things today.”

  “Oh yeah?” Roisin said. “What’s that?”

  “One, they’re confident enough to say yes to The Game, which is all we really needed anyway,” Alex said. “And two? It got them thinking they’ve got this in the bag. Even though we hardly brought our A game today.”

  After the girls showered and dressed in the locker room, Coach Cross came in to deliver the good news.

  Coach Selmani and the boys had agreed to play.

  The Game was on.

  Alex winked at Roisin. “Told ya.”

  31

  Coach Cross cut them back to four practices a week instead of their usual five.

  On Fridays after school, they’d all meet in the gym to work on their respective projects for The Game.

  Alex, Lindsey, and Roisin doubled down on developing the program. Alex’s dad had hooked them up with a printer in town, and now they were focused on making a list of local businesses to approach for ads.

  By now Annie and Rashida had made a huge breakthrough on T-shirts. Mr. and Mrs. Banville had offered them a rather large discount on a bulk order. They’d said they were happy to help, having both been Orville athletes themselves in their day. Now Annie and Rashida lay on the waxy gym floor, stomachs down, perusing the binders full of T-shirt colors, materials, logos, and text fonts for screen printing.

  Carly’s uncle was able to supply hats at a generous rate. Still, they’d need to sell enough to afford them, but if they charged a premium, her uncle said they’d be more than profitable.

  Orville High had already allowed them to book its soccer field for the game, which meant plenty of seats in the bleachers. Alex’s dad had a client with a small printing business—the same one they were using for the program—who agreed to help with the tickets to be sold on the day of the game.

  Ally McGee and Maria Ochoa had set up a website with the help of Ms. Weiss, their computer science teacher. They had also created their own social media handles to start promoting The Game online and help generate early interest.

  There was still a long way to go, but they could all feel things slowly coming together.

  And while this kind of teamwork wasn’t what Alex had in mind this season, it brought her closer to her teammates in unexpected ways. They were still aiming toward a goal, using their individual strengths, working together. But something about it felt even more fulfilling than being on the field.

  They weren’t just fighting for a win. They were fighting for a cause.

  * * *

  • • •

  One of the most exciting things to come out of their efforts was that the Orville Patch had decided to run an article on The Game in one of their special weekly editions.

  Lindsey was stoked. She said the exposure from the article alone was sure to draw crowds and maybe even get some businesses eager to purchase ads for their program or offer goods and experiences for the raffles.

  The reporter writing the piece, Molly Cohen, had come to the middle school to interview Coach Cross. But Coach explained that the idea had been all Alex’s and Lindsey’s and invited them to her office so they could be quoted in the paper.

  Per usual, Lindsey did most of the talking, but to Alex’s surprise, she gave Alex credit for coming up with the initial idea to play the boys. This was new for Lindsey, Alex thought. Being gracious.

  But it was Alex, at least according to her dad—hardly an impartial observer—who had the best quote in the story.

  “We know how much money we need to raise,” she told Molly Cohen. “But we can’t put a dollar amount on how much this season would mean to us.”

  Lindsey, being Lindsey, had to add one final remark, which Molly used in the story: “This game is going to be the highlight of the season,” she said. “You’re not going to want to miss it.”

  Because journalists were supposed to be impartial, Molly had also included a quote from Chase.

  When she’d asked him how the boys would react if the girls won the game, Chase said plainly, “They’re not going to.”

  “But what if they do?” Molly pressed.

  “They won’t,” Chase said.

  The paper came out on Saturday afternoons. But the story about The Game was published in the digital edition late Saturday morning. Sophie had come over early in the afternoon so she and Alex could read it together on Alex’s laptop.

  “We won’t know until The Game’s over and we’ve counted up all the money if we’ve raised enough,” Alex said when they finished reading. “Regardless of who wins or loses.”

  By now Sophie had thrown herself into practically every aspect of the project, as if she were an honorary member of the soccer team. She’d even come up with the design for the T-shirts, THE GAME on the front, a small illustration of a soccer ball underneath, with GIRLS VS. BOYS printed below.

  The date of The Game would go on the backs of the shirts.

  “But I know you, Alex Carlisle,” Sophie said. “Even though the outcome of The Game won’t affect the final score on the money, you want to beat them.”

  “I want people to see a good game,” Alex said. “Mom says if we put on a show, people might buy even more merchandise on their way out.”

  They were lying against the pillows on Alex’s bed, and Sophie gave Alex a playful shove into her favorite stuffed animal, Simba.

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” Sophie said.

  “I don’t believe you asked me a question,” Alex responded.

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Okay, then, here it is. How much do you want to beat Chase and the boys?”

  “You know I do,” Alex said. “But it’s not the main thing on my mind. The object of this game is to make money.”

  “And maybe history!” Sophie said.

  They scrolled through all the Instagram and Twitter posts about The Game. Ally had come up with the hashtag #OrvilleMiddleTheGame, which had generated the predictable trash talk between the students of Orville Middle. However, most of the posts were from people in town, showing their support and excitement for The Game.

  “Did you have any idea it would be like this?” Sophie asked.

  “Not a clue,” Alex confessed.

  “People are acting like it’s some kind of soccer Super Bowl,” Sophie said.

  Worry started to spread across Alex’s chest at Sophie’s words. What if The Game didn’t turn out to be all that exciting? What if the fans were disappointed in the performance? It wasn’t like they were professionals out there. Was it unfair to charge people to watch a group of amateur players? She raised the issue with Sophie.

  “I know I sound like I’m stuck on this,” Alex said. “But I really do want the people to have a good time and get their money’s worth. What if—”

  “I’m gonna stop you right there,” Sophie said. “First of all, The Game will be exciting, no question.” She took a breath.
“And also? You’re not pocketing the money. You’re using it to have the season you deserve. One you shouldn’t have to fight for.”

  Alex nodded, supposing Sophie was right. “And if we do raise enough money,” she said, “then our team can’t lose, even if we have the lower score at the end of the night.”

  “But you don’t want to lose to Chase Gwinn,” Sophie said.

  “Not even a little bit,” Alex said, and laughed.

  Sophie posted some funny comments about the boys on her Instagram stories. None of them mean, just trying to get them riled up. A few seconds later, the comments started flooding in. Some were snarky, as if the boys on the soccer team were trying to stick the needle in. But for the most part, everybody seemed to be getting into the spirit of what Alex thought The Game should be. A good old-fashioned rivalry. Like the Steelers versus the Ravens.

  “You know what the very best part of all of this might be?” she said to Sophie.

  “Being a part of a whole team of Billie Jean Kings?” Sophie guessed.

  The girls had learned about Billie Jean King in their history class. A world-renowned female tennis professional who was a leader for equality in women’s tennis and was still a prominent activist for women’s rights today. The night before, they had streamed the Battle of the Sexes movie at Sophie’s house. The story covered one of the most famous tennis matches ever played, where Billie Jean beat Bobby Riggs in a battle-of-the-sexes showdown. Emma Stone, one of Sophie’s favorite actors, played Billie Jean.

  “Ha!” Alex said. “As cool as it would be to win, that’s not what I meant. The best part of this is getting to do something together with my mom.”

  “She’s really into this, huh?”

  “You think?” Alex said.

  But it was in a good way. Alex and her mom had a deal. If Alex thought she was getting pushy, she was obligated to tell her.

  “I don’t want to be that mom,” Liza had said.

  * * *

  • • •

  The next day, Sunday, Alex’s mom suggested Alex invite Roisin and Lindsey over to work on the program, and that she’d be around if they needed her.

  The three girls gathered in Alex’s living room and sprawled out with their notes and laptops.

  Lindsey, who had a knack for digital design, took the lead on planning the layout with a program she had on her MacBook.

  “We didn’t have these resources when I was in school,” Liza said. “I had to lay everything out on paper!”

  “That sounds awful,” Roisin said. “Genuinely awful.”

  “The real challenge will be selling the ads,” Alex’s mom said. “But it’s also the fun part. You get to go out in town, door to door. It’s exciting!”

  “Like a Girl Scout?” Alex said.

  “What’s a Girl Scout?” Roisin asked.

  Alex realized they probably didn’t have Girl Scouts in Ireland.

  “It’s like a youth organization that teaches girls life skills,” Lindsey said. “Every year they go around selling delicious cookies, and everyone buys a million boxes apiece.”

  “I think my dad still has a few boxes of Thin Mints stashed away,” Alex said. “But more to the point, I’ve never gone door to door selling anything before.”

  “It’s like being a traveling salesman, except you won’t have to leave Orville,” Alex’s mom explained.

  “What’s a traveling salesman?” Alex asked.

  Her mom looked at her dad. They both smiled, almost sadly.

  “Something old people know about,” her mom said.

  “I think the girls have it under control, Liza,” Jack said. “Kids are a lot savvier now than we were at their age. With the googles and the snap-grams.”

  “Daaaad!” Alex moaned.

  * * *

  • • •

  After a few hours designing the layout, Alex suggested they use the afternoon to hit the town and start filling up program pages. Among the three of them, and with some guidance from Liza, they came up with prices for full-page, half-page, and quarter-page advertisements. Coach Cross had printed out order slips for them to use with perforated receipts. It all seemed very official to Alex.

  Lindsey suggested they start at Sam’s, the pizzeria. “I always see their coupons in the pennysaver,” she said. “They’re pretty much guaranteed to take out an ad. Maybe two.”

  So Alex, Lindsey, and Roisin rode their bikes into town with their parents’ permission, and sure enough, Sammy Jr., who managed the restaurant, agreed to a full-page ad on the spot. “Gives us an opportunity to promote our updated menu,” he said. Then he gave each of the girls a “buy one slice, get one free” coupon, so they sat down to have lunch.

  “Our first sale!” Roisin said. “They should all be as easy as this one.”

  “Well, I doubt that,” Lindsey said, biting into her cheese slice, “but I’m still optimistic.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to start off on the right foot,” Alex added.

  After lunch, they stopped at the paint-and-supplies shop, the corner pharmacy, Bostwick’s ice cream, and plenty of other stores along the town’s main street. Some people said yes. Others politely declined.

  By four P.M., the girls had secured five spots in the program. Two of them full-page ads.

  It was only their first attempt, but Roisin was fired up. “We crushed it!” she said as they walked back toward where they’d parked their bikes in front of Sam’s.

  “That we did,” Lindsey said, “if I do say so myself.”

  “I don’t know about you guys,” Alex said, “but I’m delira and excira from just one afternoon of being in sales.”

  It was Irish slang that meant “delirious and excited.”

  “You looked that up!” Roisin said, slapping Alex lightly on the arm.

  Alex grinned. “Maybe just a wee bit,” she admitted.

  Roisin laughed. “Yer deadly, you are.”

  The three of them mounted their bikes and rode home, splitting up at the end of the street to head toward their respective houses.

  * * *

  • • •

  It had been a good day, and Alex was ready for the fun to continue. She and her dad had plans to whip up the Carlisle house specialty tonight for dinner: homemade thin-crust pizza.

  But first, she ran upstairs to call Gabe and see how he was doing.

  That turned out to be a mistake.

  32

  “Hey,” she said, “I’ve got another hour before dinner. Can I come by for a bit?”

  There was quiet on the other end. Then: “Kind of hanging with Jabril right now.”

  “Oh, okay,” Alex said quietly. The three of them hanging out together had never been a problem before. She wasn’t sure what provoked the change but decided not to press it.

  There was a long pause then, as if they’d both already run out of things to say. Usually neither could get a word in edgewise on the phone, always talking over each other when they weren’t finishing each other’s sentences.

  Except that wasn’t the case just now.

  “How’s the knee?” she asked.

  “You know you ask me how my knee is doing every single time we talk, right?” he snapped.

  Alex was taken aback. “Because I genuinely want to know,” she said.

  “Even if I don’t want to talk about it?”

  Wow.

  Alex knew he wasn’t trying to be mean, but it sure sounded that way over the phone. Their friendship went back years—since elementary school. She cared about him and knew he cared about her too. But right now? This wasn’t him.

  This isn’t us.

  “Okay,” she said again, at a loss for words.

  She heard him sigh then. Loud enough she didn’t need the phone to hear it. Probably could have opened her bedroom window and heard the sound carry
all the way from Gabe’s house.

  “My knee is my knee,” Gabe said. “I’ve been doing my exercises, but I’ve dialed them back a little.”

  Alex took a deep breath now. “You’re not really thinking about bagging baseball, are you?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I am.” Like it was that easy.

  “You can’t,” Alex pleaded. “You’re too good.”

  “I know you’re trying to be my friend,” Gabe said. “But that’s kind of my call and not yours.”

  Alex swallowed a lump in her throat. “But you were throwing the ball great the other day,” she said in a small voice.

  “It’s not that big a deal!” Gabe shot back, his voice rising quickly. “It’s just one season, and it’s not even my favorite sport. If I’m not an idiot with my rehab”—he paused—“and I avoid things I shouldn’t be doing, I could be good as new when football starts in August.”

  Alex could tell this wasn’t the Gabe she knew. Because what he’d just said didn’t line up at all with his philosophy on sports. He’d often told Alex that he’d never understood when kids their age chose to focus on only one sport. He thought they were missing out on way too much. Most especially getting to play with their friends.

  But she wasn’t about to bring that up now. This isn’t a debate, she told herself.

  She was sorry she had called.

  “Hey,” Gabe said. “Jabril is waiting to play video games.”

  Alex took the hint. “I guess I just . . .” She stopped. “I guess I just wanted to say that I’m sorry you got hurt.”

  Gabe almost seemed angrier now. “You need to stop apologizing,” he said. “Nobody made me play soccer with you that day, and nobody forced me to play catch in your backyard.”

  “I feel like I made you,” she said, now full of remorse.

  Another silence then, longer than the one before.

  “I want to help you get through this,” she said. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “I think you’ve done enough . . .” Gabe said.