* * *
The new school year began, and Joaquin anxiously awaited his first game in the new Willowdale Shamrock uniforms. The first game was a non-conference game at Garvey, a small school fifty miles west of Willowdale. Garvey had only started their team a year earlier, so Joaquin and his teammates felt confident that Willowdale could initiate the new program with a victory. The hour long ride seemed to take forever. Joaquin sat beside Julio on the bus. They hardly spoke a word. The younger players were buzzing with anticipation about playing in a varsity high school game, but to Joaquin this was a test to find out if his dream was still alive. This was the first leg of his journey back to Lakeshore.
The game went well for Willowdale. The players from Garvey had apparently never seen girls playing on a boys’ team. They hooted and laughed during warm-ups, obviously overconfident about playing a newly formed team. Joaquin overheard a tall blond boy from the other team say, “Hey, you guys, I get to guard number 14. I won’t have any trouble staying close to her.” Joaquin knew without looking that Cocoa had to be wearing that number. Several players were laughing at Monte with his long bushy red hair and the wildly colored purple tie-dyed shirt he wore when playing. He heard another kid say he would have suited up his little brother if he had known they were playing against freshmen.
In the opening minutes of the game, Garvey moved the ball quickly down the field. Willowdale’s defense was playing cautiously and didn’t switch players as quickly as they should have. Kari was left face to face with the tall blond boy. He faked to her left then cut to the right, but Kari didn’t fall for the move. She stayed right in her opponent’s face. Apparently frustrated by his inability to maneuver around his female opponent, the big forward decided to muscle his way to the goal. He lowered his right shoulder and tried to plow Kari into the ground. She saw the move coming and dodged left, gracefully sweeping away the ball as she ducked away from the oncoming attack. The ball rolled toward Meta who gained control and sent a long pass to Cocoa heading up the right sideline. Cocoa dribbled to midfield and then passed to Joaquin moving down the center of the field. He faked a pass to Julio then worked the ball around his defender and angled toward the right side of the goal. When he was twenty yards in front of the goalkeeper, he stopped abruptly, changed directions, and blasted a shot toward the right goal post. A defending player tried to head the ball away from the goal, but his partial deflection only steered the ball into a different section of the net. The goalkeeper had no chance to stop the deflected shot. Willowdale was up 1-0. The Garvey players looked stunned.
The remainder of the first half was scoreless. At half-time Buzzy praised the work of his players. “Now we’re showing what we can do,” he shouted. “We’re in better shape than they’re in, and we want to win more than they do. Now let’s get back out there and hold them. Talk to each other. And anytime you get tired, you signal me. I want to keep fresh horses in the game at all times. Since we’re allowed unlimited substitution, let’s use it.” He clapped his hands and sent the starters out to their positions.
In the second half, Monte made several great saves to keep Garvey from scoring. Joaquin noticed that none of the opposing players were laughing at Monte now. Willowdale had several chances to score but couldn’t get the ball into the net. Twice Julio was called for being off sides on potential scoring attacks. His combination of lack of experience and lighting speed made it hard for him to hold back when he saw his teammates moving toward the goal. Fortunately, his mistakes didn’t hurt the team. The game ended with the score still 1-0. The Shamrocks won the first soccer game in the school’s history.
The Shamrocks’ good fortune did not continue. In their second game, they lost 1-0 in overtime, and in the third game Willowdale was blown off the field by Maywood 6-1. Worse than the score of that game was the fact that Monte lost his temper following a questionable call by the referee. Frustrated by his inability to stop the Maywood offense, Monte picked up the ball and booted it over the bleachers. In the discussion that followed, he said enough to the official to earn a red card for unsportsmanlike conduct. He was forced to sit out the remainder of that game and was also suspended for the following game. During the two games following his suspension, Monte’s play was erratic. He gave up six goals to teams that Willowdale should have beaten. By the midpoint in their first season, the Willowdale Shamrocks had a disappointing 1-5 record.
To make things worse, Lakeshore was having a better season. Every morning following game days, Joaquin scoured the sports page to find out how his old team had done. After the first six games, Lakeshore was enjoying a 4-2 record. Joaquin wondered what Coach Sommers was doing differently. Could Joaquin’s experience have affected the way Sommers ran the team? Joaquin asked Jessica about this every time they talked, but she was unable to provide any clues as to the mystery of Lakeshore’s drastic improvement.
Before the seventh game Buzzy called a team breakfast. All players were told to meet at Marge’s Cafe at six-thirty in the morning. He made it clear that he expected everyone to attend. He said that if anyone had trouble getting a ride, he’d personally pick them up. The breakfast itself was very quiet. The combination of fatigue from getting up so early and the anticipation of what Coach Budzinski was going to say put a somber tone on the meal.
When everyone was finished eating, Buzzy clanked the side of his coffee cup with his fork to get his players’ attention. Everyone focused on the shiny bald head at the end of the table. “Listen up, everybody,” he started, “now some of you people worked very hard to get this team started, and many of you are working very hard to keep it going. Unfortunately, we’ve lost some games the past few weeks, and I’m afraid the a mood of discouragement is beginning to replace the excitement that we started the season with.” He paused and looked at the faces of his players. “Now I don’t want to see any finger pointing, and I don’t want to hear any comments about the way any individual is performing. The thing we have to remember is that we’re a team. Any mistake made on the field is made by the team not by a single player. You just have to get that through your heads. If someone on our team misses a shot at the goal or if we give up an easy goal, it’s just as much my fault as is it anyone else’s because I’m a member of this team just like you are. Soccer is a simple sport in many ways. There is only one thing we have to do: we just to put that leather sphere into out opponent’s net more often than they put it into ours. There is really only one reason to play soccer—because we love playing the game. If we’re playing for any other reason, then we’re missing the point of having a team. If we’re not having any fun, then there is no reason for us to put in all this time and effort. I know it gets frustrating sometimes when nothing seems to go our way, but if you let that frustration take over your life, then you might as well find a new activity. Now we still have six games left in the regular season, and then we get a chance to work our way toward the state tournament. We got some great people on this team. Let’s enjoy the fact that we’re together and we have a team. Let’s start this second half of the season with a new attitude. Let’s go out and focus on the here and now. Tune out your distractions and try to savor every minute on the field. Let’s have fun the rest of the season.”
When Buzzy stood up to leave, several of the players started clapping. Soon everyone at the table was applauding the old janitor. Joaquin clapped along with the rest of his teammates. He wished he could absorb the wisdom of Coach Budzinski’s words, but even while he sat there thoughts about the regional tournament started to creep into his brain. He knew that Willowdale was scheduled to meet Lakeshore in the second game of the regional tournament. In order for that game to happen, both teams would have to win their first round match. Joaquin knew that his team was going to have to play better if they wanted to start winning.
* * *
During the second half of the season, the Shamrocks turned things around. Apparently inspired by Buzzy’s words, the team won three of their remaining six games, and the games they
lost were close. Monte was superb. He didn’t give up a single goal in the three wins. In the three losses, the Shamrock goalie allowed a total of only five points. Cocoa was dynamite at both ends of the field. Her speedy breakaways led to over half of the team’s scores. Joaquin was usually the benefactor of her great runs. Playing center forward, he either took her centering pass and scored the goal, or he followed her into the net for a possible rebound shot. Coach Budzinski developed a very successful play where Cocoa dribbled the ball directly toward Julio. He faked a move to the outside, but didn’t actually move. Cocoa used Julio for a screen to shake off her defender. By the time Julio’s defender realized what was happening, it was too late to switch. Cocoa was well on her way to the goal. This play allowed Cocoa to work as both a midfielder and a forward. Julio, being much less experienced at the game, was happy to be able to contribute in any way he could.
Overall, the Shamrocks felt confident heading into the regional tournament. The first round opponent was Garvey, the team Willowdale had defeated in the opening game of the season. This time the Shamrocks had the home field advantage. On the morning of the game, Coach Budzinski again asked his players to meet for breakfast at Marge’s. But this time he didn’t make any inspiring speeches. He told his players he wanted them to meet just so they could enjoy each other’s company. Joaquin sat between Julio and Monte at the table, but he wasn’t very good company. His mind wasn’t on the game against Garvey. He was thinking three days ahead to the possible match with Lakeshore. He probably said fewer than ten words during the entire breakfast. Evidently, his teammates recognized his mood because no one tried to invade his silent reverie. When breakfast ended, he walked to the high school by himself. Julio had a car but didn’t offer his friend a ride.
The game with Garvey was never very close. Willowdale scored its first goal less than five minutes into the first period. Danny Phillips, normally a reserve midfielder, stole a pass that the opposing goalkeeper was throwing to the outside defensive fullback. Danny simply took two or three steps and fired his shot by the unprepared keeper. Cocoa scored the second goal on a breakaway just before half time. In the second half, Julio almost scored his first goal of the season. He took a pass from Joaquin and raced toward the goal. Being much faster than his defender, Julio easily broke into the clear. In his excitement at seeing the open area in front of the net, he kicked the ball with the front of his shoe causing the ball to rise quickly. The shot banged off the crossbar and rebounded almost directly back. Julio tried to head the ball into the net but missed. In the scramble of bodies fighting for control in front of the net, Cocoa was able to get a foot on the ball and squirt it past the goalie. The game ended with the score 3-0.
Chapter 19
Finally, it was the day Joaquin had anxiously awaited for more than a year. Granted it was only the semifinal game of the regionals, but to Joaquin it was more important than the state championship. Today was his much dreamed about showdown between Willowdale and Lakeshore. Realistically, he knew that neither team had any chance of progressing beyond the regionals, and with a bid to the state finals at least a distant four wins away, his sights were set on the immediate future. During the past months, he had pictured thousands of scenes from this game. In almost every vision, he saw himself racing down the field to score the winning goal. His images always concluded with the pained and angry face of Coach Sommers stomping down the sideline knowing his team had been beaten by Joaquin. He loved those images, and today he would have a chance to make them come true.
For the three days preceding the game, Joaquin could barely sleep or eat. He talked to almost no one. His family and friends seemed to avoid him. He was obsessed by only one thing—beating his old team. Several times his parents tried to talk to him, but he was too tense to carry on more than a two-minute conversation. Even his teammates couldn’t break through his wall of tension. He stayed to himself, mentally rehearsing plays that he wanted to try in the game. During practice his mind was miles away. Even Coach Budzinski gave up trying to reach him. On the morning of the showdown, Joaquin was up before six, checking his equipment and practicing shots into the small goal he had set up behind his house. He moved through his classes like a robot. At lunch he sat with Julio but spoke only a couple of sentences.
By the time it was fifteen minutes until kickoff, Joaquin appeared to be in a different time zone. He mechanically struggled through stretching exercises with his teammates, but when other players broke into small circles for passing and dribbling drills, he strayed off by himself. He dribbled a ball down the field, making quick cuts and faking out invisible defenders. He stopped and then walked deliberately passed the Lakeshore players. He saw Coach Sommers pacing in front of the bench. He intentionally rolled the ball toward Sommers. He didn’t understand why, but for some reason he wanted to see Sommers close up. Maybe it was to see if he was really as awful as Joaquin remembered. It was like he needed to look the demon in the eye before the battle started. The ball landed three feet from the Lakeshore coach. When Joaquin bent down to pick it up, he heard that familiar grating voice. “Hey, Jock-queen, I heard you couldn’t make a real team so you had to go out and start a girls’ team.” He heard the cruel laugh.
Nothing had changed, he thought to himself. He really is as horrible I as I remember. Burning with anger, Joaquin raced down the field. When he got in front of the goal he launched a vicious kick that sailed fifteen feet above the crossbar. He talked to himself, reminding himself to use the side of his foot, telling himself to stay calm and focused. But he was simply too pumped up to even listen to his own thoughts.
With five minutes left before kickoff, Coach Budzinski called all his players to the side for a quick meeting. Joaquin was the last player to join the circle. “Now remember,” Buzzy said, “this is just a game like all the rest. These guys are good, but we have beaten better. Now let’s go out there and play as a team. Talk to each other and look for the open man. Let’s work hard and play smart!” He clapped his hands as a signal to break. The starters ran out to their assigned positions, and the extras found a spot along the sideline.
Lakeshore won the coin toss and got first possession of the ball. Both teams played tentatively during the opening minutes, satisfied to keep the ball near the middle of the field. Joaquin, who was playing center forward, tried to be everywhere, following the ball where ever it went. Julio was lined up at right forward, and Cocoa was behind him at right midfield. Kari and Meta were lined up at sweeper and stopper in front of Monte in his wild purple tie-dyed sweatshirt. The other players were spread around the field in their respective positions.
The first break came when Kari intercepted a short pass and sent a quick kick toward Cocoa. The lightning fast little midfielder took control and started down field. She centered the ball to Joaquin who let the ball lead him toward the goal. Just outside the penalty box, he took control and fired a shot. In his excitement to score, he had kicked the ball straight on with the end of his foot—a toe-basher Monte called it—and the ball sailed high over the crossbar. Joaquin kicked the ground and let out a painful groan.
“Shake it off, ” called Julio who ran up to give his friend a reassuring pat on the back. “You got open once. You know it’s going to happen again. Don’t worry about it. The next one will go in.”
Joaquin didn’t answer. He just walked back to his position while the Lakeshore defense set up for their goal kick. For the next twenty minutes neither team had any real chances to score. Monte still hadn’t touched the ball. The teams moved up and down the field at a cautious pace.
Suddenly one of the Lakeshore midfielders broke loose and made a run at the goal. He dodged around Meta and angled toward the left corner of the penalty box. From there he took a left-footed shot at the goal. Monte dove toward the goal post and snatched the ball out of the air right before it crossed the goal line. In a second he was on his feet. He sent a long towering kick down the right side of the field. Cocoa moved quickly to control it. At the same time
, Joaquin came charging from his center forward position. Cocoa saw him coming, and just before the collision she stuck out her right hip and elbow and caught Joaquin in mid-stride. It felt like he had been kicked by a mule. The force of the impact sent him sprawling on the grass. The ball sailed out of bounds for a Lakeshore throw-in.
Joaquin picked himself up and tried to get back his wind. He scowled at Cocoa. “What are you trying to do? We’re on the same team. ”
Cocoa was trotting back to her position. She stopped and looked Joaquin straight in the eye. “Then try playing like we are! If you would’ve been in your position where you belong, I could have passed you the ball and we could’ve had a goal. You think you’re only one out here who can play.” She turned and ran toward the ball.
Joaquin stood there dazed and angry. He realized that Kari wasn’t kidding when she said Cocoa was tough. His body ached from collision, but she walked away like nothing happened. He heard a high-pitched voice in the stands yell, “Come on you guys, let’s talk out there!” He walked back to his position, completely ignoring the play at the far end of the field.
“Joaquin, get your head in the game!” This time it was Buzzy calling from the sideline. “Play with your teammates not against them!”
A Goal for Joaquin Page 12
