by Alison Ryan
Mal and Tara were the starting strikers for the opposition, wearing white national team jerseys, and they kicked off, sending the ball booming into the corner, where it was corralled by Leah, who passed across to Logan, giving her a first touch of the ball while wearing the red, white, and blue.
Her pass to Lori was intercepted by Tara Rourke, who took two quick dribbles before unleashing a low, blistering shot that Logan’s goalkeeper just managed to tip past the post. Logan’s mistake nearly cost her team a goal less than fifteen seconds into the match.
As the two teams lined up for the corner kick, Logan found herself jostling with Allie DeCarlo, starting center back for the white shirts.
“Hey, the spotlight is too bright for some people, Lowery. No shame in that,” Allie mocked Logan’s errant pass.
“Shut the fuck up, Twin,” snarled Leah Beierle from behind Logan and Allie. “If you spent more time playing instead of running your mouth, Logan wouldn’t be taking your job.”
Allie DeCarlo pretended to ignore the comment, but Logan noticed a twitch in her face, which caused Logan to break into a grin as she got into position to defend a ball lofted high into the goalmouth she was defending. Logan rose and beat Allie to it, heading it away and knocking the slender twin to the ground in the process. As Logan jogged away to follow the action, she could hear Allie behind her, screaming at the referee.
A youth coach of Logan’s had once told her that when you start yelling at the referee, it’s usually because you’ve run out of ways to beat your opponent. That advice resonated with Logan, who saved her frustration and anger for her own shortcomings and only spoke to referees to compliment them after matches.
The action continued, and Logan’s miscue to begin the game proved to be an anomaly. She blended well with Jada and Leah, and aside from Tara Rourke sending a shot into the post, the blue team had the better of things and the first forty-five minutes ended scoreless.
Savannah started the second half in place of Lori Gallagher, and immediately linked up with Alyssa on a nifty give-and-go pass which sprung Alyssa for a shot which forced a desperate scramble in front of the white goal to clear.
Ten minutes later, the blue team struck.
Leah made a run up the right side as Alyssa shielded the ball, and the youngster surprised everyone with a backwards kick through the legs of Angie DeCarlo, which led Leah perfectly. Leah sidestepped a defender and fired a shot into the roof of the net.
Leah didn’t score often, but when she did, her celebratory back handspring reminded everyone of her gymnastics background. Her team surrounded the green-haired defender, who was only interested in congratulating Alyssa Guzman on her brilliant pass.
The goal inspired the white team, and just moments later Tara Rourke took a high ball from Abby Yang, lifted with her knee over Jada’s head, and ran past her to finish the play with a curving shot to the far post.
The rest of the half saw liberal substitutions from both coaches, but no more goals. Logan figured she’d played well; she wasn’t at any fault for the goal, but her new friend Mal was distraught at dinner, sure her disappointing performance would get her cut.
“I didn’t take a single shot. I barely touched the ball. Whatever you guys were doing on defense, I couldn’t find a seam anywhere,” she confided to Logan.
“Everybody has a bad game. At least you got to play. I sat the entire first half,” Savannah offered.
“Yeah, but you kicked ass when you were in there, girl. You and Logan are set,” Mal said, pushing brown rice around on her plate.
“Thank God for Leah and Jada is all I can say,” interjected Logan. “They saved me more than once out there today.”
The girls spent the meal flattering one another, deflecting praise, and coming to a consensus on how much they despised the DeCarlo sisters, while grudgingly admitting that they were damn good players.
When camp broke two days later, each player had an exit interview with the complete coaching staff in attendance.
Logan was among the first players called, and none of her close friends had yet received any news.
“Come in Logan, sit down,” instructed Coach Pressley. “How do you think it went this week?”
“Thank you for the opportunity, all of you coaches,” Logan remarked, a smile wide and bright on her face. “I think it went pretty well. Some of the women here are just incredible. I did whatever I could to keep up. It was awesome, however it turns out, and I think I learned a lot I can take back to X with me when our season starts in the Fall.”
“Well, Logan, I don’t want to waste your time or keep you in suspense. You’re not as technically gifted as most of the players we’ve had come through the program. Next to a Leah or Allie, your skills are pretty pedestrian. Wouldn’t you agree?” Nina Pressley didn’t mince words.
“I, um, yes, I definitely respect them, they’re great players,” Logan sank in her chair, her voice dropping almost to a whisper as she responded to the question.
“But,” Coach Pressley opened her binder and paused to review some notes, “You play with an energy, almost a fury, that this team has been missing. You inspire. I shudder at the thought of you finding out you had a grandparent from France or something and showing up in their uniform in Brazil. In an act of self-preservation, at the very least, I’d like to invite you to join us for our next camp in January and the qualifying tournament in February in Houston.”
Logan’s downcast disposition vanished as she sprang up from her chair and pumped her first, causing the coaching staff to erupt in laughter.
“Yeah, that’s definitely an American outburst,” joked Coach Stall, the goalkeeper coach, in his thick German accent.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Logan repeated, shaking hands with the coaches before half-skipping down the hallway, only to stop and compose herself before hitting the hotel lobby where the rest of the players waited. Her best efforts to play it cool, however, failed when she locked eyes with Savannah, and the two laughed as they embraced.
Logan hung around, watching veterans waltz in and out confidently, assured of their places in the team. Tara Rourke was invited back, as was Alyssa Guzman, who had consistently dazzled with the ball at her feet. Mal Sinclair and Abby Yang, current and former UCLA players, were given the same news – thanks for your hard work, and you’ll remain in the player pool, but better luck next time.
Savannah and two goalkeepers were the last to get called back, and as much as Logan knew her roommate and new best friend had made it, Savannah herself harbored doubt. At the final scrimmage, she’d been pitted against a tandem of Lori Gallagher and Angie DeCarlo, and she’d been largely invisible. She cried out of frustration that night.
She shuffled back into the lobby, straight to Logan, dropping her head onto Logan’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to room with you again,” she managed to choke out as Logan held her close.
‘Wait, what?” Logan was completely confused.
“I made it, dummy. I’m sad because I’m afraid I might have to room with you again.”
Logan playfully shoved Savannah and the two of them exited the lobby to the airport shuttle laughing like children.
Once they got rolling, Logan called home. When her mother answered, Logan had just one question for her – “Mom, is your passport up to date? Because you might need to be in Brazil this summer.”
She heard her mother yelp and they both started laughing, then crying, then laughing again.
“Logan!” her mother exclaimed. “My girl! You did it! You’re going to the Olympics.” Her joy quickly turned to tears. “Oh, God. If your father was here… I just don’t even know what he’d do.”
Logan had thought of him all day. He was the reason for her fury, for the fire inside her soul.
She’d gotten it from him.
She was Chuck Lowery’s daughter. To the very end.
When Champions Rise
Chapter Twenty
Solomon
; The next few weeks became a whirlwind as Gavin helped coordinate travel arrangements and lodging for as much of Solomon’s Fijian family as could make the trip to Brazil.
The mainstream media, which routinely acted as if judo didn’t exist, suddenly wanted to interview Solomon. First it was just the Cincinnati paper, taking his picture and asking him a few questions for a story about “local” athletes bound for the Olympics, but once word got out about his background, national sports networks came calling, eager to tell Solomon’s tale as a human interest story.
Introverted by nature, Solomon begged off of doing the long-form television interviews the media sought, and he shied away from speaking about his mother and father beyond saying how much he missed them and how much he hoped they’d be proud of him.
A few days before he was set to travel to Rio, the Cincinnati newspaper led their sports section, above the fold, with a story that profiled the eight athletes with ties to Greater Cincinnati who’d be competing in the summer games.
Headshots of the eight ran across the page in two rows of four, but Solomon ignored six of them. He glanced at his own picture, neither loving nor hating it, but his eyes quickly zeroed in on the smiling face of Logan. Her eyes danced, even in a still shot, and his heart skipped.
It had been hard to be without her these last few weeks. He tried to drown his sorrow in his training, and he’d succeeded with that. He’d never been in such great physical condition. He was ready for the Olympics. More than ready.
But he wasn’t ready to see Logan again and not be able to touch her. It would be impossible.
Solomon decided then- after he conquered in Rio, he would also conquer Logan Lowery. Once and for all. It had been his fate long ago to survive the fury of the storm.
And now he knew why it had happened. It had been for her. Logan was his fate.
And he would meet that fate in Rio.
Chapter Twenty-One
Solomon
Early August saw the world converging on Brazil, specifically Rio de Janeiro. Athletes, media, family, and friends began arriving in the days leading up to the game, nobody wanting to miss the promise of a spectacular opening ceremonies and the parade of nations.
The American women’s soccer team made camp outside Rio at the end of July for several days of training and acclimating to the climate before the athletes checked into the Olympic Village. Their first match would take place on August 3rd, two days before the Games officially began.
Judo would run during the first week of the Olympics, with the last medals handed out on the 10th, while soccer, or football as it was officially termed, was scheduled to run until the 19th.
Solomon couldn’t wait to begin his Olympic experience and he checked into the Village early, meeting his Fijian teammates at a luncheon hosted by the Fiji Olympic Committee. Fifty-two athletes represented Fiji, the bulk of them either rugby or soccer players. The men’s soccer team and both men’s and women’s rugby teams qualified for the Games, as well as individual athletes in seven other sports. Solomon would compete as a middleweight, with a ninety kilo limit.
Bula was the word of the day, and it seemed everyone, especially the small number of women, among the Fijian contingent was eager to meet Solomon, whose story had made him something of a celebrity back home.
Solomon’s head spun as he entered the Village for the first time. Athletes from all over the globe, all shapes and sizes and nationalities, greeted one another warmly. Smiling faces were everywhere, and when confusion appeared anywhere, it was short-lived. Help was never far away; language barriers be damned.
For such a collection of graceful, well-coordinated people, however, Solomon noticed many collisions that on the road might be called “fender benders.” The sheer number of beautiful, fit, healthy people in one place had nearly every eye wandering.
Particularly amusing to the young judoka was a tall European-looking basketball player, the better part of seven-feet, all legs, walking into an Asian girl he guessed must be a gymnast, under five feet tall, as the two of them both had their heads turned admiring other athletes. It was almost like when a small boy runs through his father’s legs, and if she’d been just an inch or two shorter, or he taller, they may well have passed seamlessly, the basketball player stepping clear over the top of her and never knowing it. As it were, her face collided with where his belt buckle would be. The two of them apologized profusely, and within seconds the incident was forgotten amongst a sea of lean track stars, impossibly tall female volleyball players, cyclists with thighs as big around as truck tires, and swimmers with arms that seemed to reach the ground.
It was all dizzying, and Solomon collapsed on his bed, eager for the sanctuary of his room. He shared it with three other Fijian athletes, a fellow judoka from a lighter weight class, a swimmer, and an archer.
The swimmer, Markus, attended college in the United States, and he and Solomon got on well.
The format for the Olympic judo competition was an unforgiving, 32-man, single-elimination bracket. With the way scoring worked, that meant that if Solomon allowed an opponent to get a good grip and throw him onto his back just once, an (ippon) that his Olympics, as a competitor, would be over.
He couldn’t allow that. Now that he was here and surrounded by the energy of the Games, Solomon knew he had to make it count.
He fell asleep that night and dreamed of the winner’s podium with the Fijian national anthem playing in the background.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Logan
Logan’s team, on the other hand would play a minimum of three matches and likely advance even with a loss in group plays, since eight of the twelve teams reached the quarterfinals.
The USWNT checked into the Village earlier than most teams or athletes, since their sport was among the first to kick off, and the buzz Solomon would experience hadn’t yet begun.
Logan found herself rooming with Savannah, Alyssa, and Tara, the four youngest players on the team. The Olympics were a first for all of them, although Tara’s National Team experience made her the de facto leader of the quartet.
“Listen up, no guys in here the day of or day before a match, okay?” Tara addressed the group, who didn’t, at first, seem to take her seriously. “Hey, I mean it! I was talking to Lori and some of the others, and they have a million stories about past Olympics where, hell, half the team was up partying all night with the Australian rugby team or some bullshit like that. I want to win a gold medal, and if any of you are dragging ass because of some dude, or chick, or too much caipirinha or whatever, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Cai-pi-who?” Logan asked
“Caipirinha,” Tara explained. “It’s an alcohol made form sugar cane. It’s served kind of slushy and it will get you wrecked. After we win gold, drink all you want. Until then, if I catch anybody drinking, I’ll sic the Twins on you!”
“But T, Australian rugby players sound really, really hot,” Savannah joked.
“What, did you break up with Troy?” Alyssa asked, referring to Savannah’s college boyfriend.
“We’re on again, off again, he’s got another year at FSU and who knows where I’m going to be,” Savannah responded. “Besides, I thought the Olympic Village was like Las Vegas, you know, what happens in the Village stays in the Village?”
“Yeah, until you come home pregnant with an Australian rugby baby!” Logan laughed, throwing a pillow at her best friend.
Tara faked an awful Aussie accent. “Oi! Mommy! Why aren’t there any kangaroos here in Tallahassee?”
Lori and Kat appeared at the door.
“Lots of laughter in here, what’s so funny?” Team captain Lori queried the group.
“Well, Savannah is pregnant with an Australian rugby player’s baby, Alyssa is drunk on caipirinha. Tara was just leaving to hook up with a Greek weightlifter, and me? I’m the good one of the group, I just want to take a nap,” Logan explained.
“Yeah, right, Lowery, if you’re the ‘good one’ we’re all i
n trouble,” Kat replied.
“Guaranteed Logan comes home from the Opening Ceremony with like fifty names and room numbers of guys from the parade. They’ll spot that hair a mile away,” Lori predicted.
Logan’s heart fell thinking about how the only man she’d ever want to hear from was Solomon. She wondered what he was doing at this very moment. She knew judo was one of the first events of the Olympics. She would have done anything to hear his voice, to tell him how much she wanted him to win. That to her he was already a champion.
But instead, as always, she pushed the emotion aside. She couldn’t lose focus.
“The only hair anybody will notice on our team is Leah’s,” Logan insisted, referring to her teammate’s new red, white, and blue, stars-and-stripes coif. “And if anybody is looking at our team in the parade, do you really think I’ll get a second glance once they see Jada?”
“Jada’s a model, everybody knows her already. You’re like the fresh-faced, all-American girl next door, Lowery,” Tara interjected. “Guys love that shit. And running around with Beyoncé and J Lo over here,” Tara pointed to Savannah and Alyssa. “I’ll probably have to barricade the door to keep the guys out.
“Oh yeah, poor you, is your Austrian boyfriend not going to make it?” Kat inquired, and Tara rolled her eyes.
“Austrian?” Savannah let the word hang in the air until Lori picked it up.
“We were in France for a tournament two summers ago and this creepy dude who was like fifty kept hanging around whenever we’d get off the bus or even at the hotel, slipping notes to the coaches, he was wherever we were. It turned out he was stalking T. He was obsessed with her or something. He was from Austria and had just seen her picture in the background of a story in the paper about the German team and he somehow figured out who she was and somehow convinced himself they were meant to be together or some shit. I mean we always have fans hanging around, I guess you could even say groupies, but this was so weird.”
