Redemption Mountain

by FitzGerald, Gerry

  Natty smiled as she pictured what would’ve been a very brief negotiation between Buck and Kyle Loftus. Digging through her equipment bag, she found an extra uniform, still in its plastic package. Next she started rooting through the kids’ bags, looking for a pair of socks and shin guards. She found some in Paul’s bag, as well as a mouth guard that looked fairly clean. Gabe was rolling balls out of the goal to a semicircle of shooters just outside the box. Natty called him over.

  Gabe’s mouth dropped open when he read the rain-soaked fax. “Welcome to the Bones,” she said, handing him his uniform. “Better get suited up, game’s about to start.” She gathered the team around her and told them about their new teammate.

  Emma’s eyes widened. “You mean Gabe’s gonna play for us?” she squealed. The rest of the team was excited, too, knowing that Gabe was one of the best and toughest players in their league.

  “Make a circle now, so Gabe can change,” Natty said, as she saw the referee crew walking across the field. “Hurry up, game’s going to start. Emma, you and Brenda turn your backs.” Gabe would have to play in his sneakers, but Natty knew it wouldn’t bother him a bit.

  “Hear you got a new player.” Natty turned and saw the handsome young Charleston coach walking toward her.

  “Thanks to you,” she said, as they shook hands.

  “It’s just a game.” He smiled at her.

  Natty looked out onto the field and noticed how many spectators there were. Field One was the only field with bleachers, and they were completely filled.

  As soon as the game started, it was evident that the Charleston Chargers were a great team, easily the best team they’d faced all year. They worked beautifully together, dominating play for the first ten minutes of the game. But the Bones gradually raised the level of their game, as Natty had seen them do before. Plus, Gabe was a force in the midfield, and Natty could see right away that the Bones would have had little chance of beating the Chargers without him. The teams slogged to a scoreless first half, but not before Hardy Steele sprained an ankle, leaving the Bones with the Pie Man as their only substitute.

  With ten minutes left in the still-scoreless game, the rain stopped, and it became windy and cold. After a long, sustained attack by the Chargers, Natty called a time-out. “Okay, we got five minutes left,” she said, “and we’re going to beat these guys, but we don’t want to go to overtime, because we don’t have as many subs. From now on, everyone, you get a shot at the ball, you kick it as far downfield as you can. Don’t worry about possession. Okay?” She looked around at the exhausted yet attentive faces. “Then, if you get a good clear going, I want everyone rushing up the field. Forget about defending. Three players on the ball, and everyone else goes to the goal. We’ll probably only get one chance, so when it comes, everyone move up fast.”

  Play restarted with a goal kick from Brenda that got knocked down by the swirling wind. The Bones battled valiantly, especially Zack, who seemed to be everywhere, but they struggled in vain to get the ball out of their own end. Just as the scorekeeper announced that there were two minutes left, a Charleston player took an open shot from fifteen yards out, which Brenda leaped for and punched straight up in the air. The ball hung over the field for an eternity, dropping ten yards in front of the goal, where both teams converged on it.

  Natty held her breath, but Zack rose out of the pack and caught the ball with a perfectly timed header, sending it on a long, high arc toward the middle of the field. Paul beat two Chargers midfielders to the ball, and the stampede was on.

  Ten yards short of midfield, Paul played the ball sideways and hit it as hard as he’d ever kicked a soccer ball—in America or Poland. Gabe, Emma, and a half dozen Chargers all raced up the field. The ball landed twenty yards beyond Emma, who was in an even footrace with a Charger. But Emma shifted to another gear and beat him to the ball. Just as she controlled it, a Charger slid into her, sending her sliding through the mud.

  Lying in the mud, Emma turned in time to see Gabe hurdle over her on a direct path to the ball. Gabe and the Chargers fullback kicked the ball at the same time, but Gabe powered the ball through as he knocked the defender off stride with his shoulder, then chased the rolling ball toward the end line, twelve yards from the goal.

  Two Chargers bore down on him. He looked back for Emma, but she was still on the ground. Then he spied Zack flying down the middle of the field. Gabe put his head down and calculated the spot where he would put the ball.

  Right before the first Charger reached him, Gabe sent a high chip shot floating toward the penalty-kick spot in front of the goal. As the ball took off, two defenders crashed into him, sending him tumbling beyond the end line. He watched as Zack flashed by, heading straight for the goal at high speed, and made the silver ball disappear with a leaping, vicious header and an ungodly scream. The ball hit the netting in the back of the goal just before Zack’s momentum sent him sliding on his stomach past the goalie. Then the ref’s whistle signaled the end of the game.

  From the mud, Gabe looked over at Emma again. She was still on the ground but was smiling back at him. He laughed and held a victorious fist up in the air. Zack held the ball out in front of him, raced to midfield, and did a fifteen-yard belly-flop slide through the deepest puddle on the field. When he stood up, you couldn’t tell what color his shirt was. The crowd gave both teams a sustained ovation for what was truly an incredible soccer game. Natty watched her mud-covered, battered team come slowly off the field, too exhausted to celebrate. She couldn’t believe they had to play again tomorrow.

  * * *

  NATTY CALLED BUCK again from the parking lot at the Laundromat. She left Emma and Gabe inside to watch the loads they had going. Tonight, everything had to be washed. They would look like a real team when they played Pittsburgh the next day. Pittsburgh had beaten Morgantown, 5–0, in the other semifinal.

  From the dark school bus, Natty watched Emma and Gabe at the Laundromat. They sat on a bench talking, attentive, smiling, and polite to each other, with an occasional laugh, never running out of conversation. Natty loved watching them together. She pressed the last button on Charlie’s phone and swallowed, unsure of what she would tell Buck, but this was it, time was up. Her breathing relaxed when no one answered.

  Next she called Sally. “Cat’s over here,” said Sally. “Staying with us for the night, ’cause Buck went out. Don’t know where.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Natty softly.

  Sally heard Natty’s disappointment. “He spent the whole day with her, Nat.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Took her up to Welch first thing in the morning, and they had lunch and went to the video store. Come back and watched a movie together, just the two of ’em. Cat had a special day.”

  Natty was silent. “Okay, thanks, Sal. Just tell Buck we won and we’re playing Pittsburgh tomorrow.” She clicked off and sat in the dark. She thought about Charlie, up in Vermont telling the beautiful, sophisticated Ellen Burden that he was leaving her for a mousy little hillbilly girl with a son named Pie Man and a daughter who had memorized the dialogue from Home Alone. Natty shook her head—and she was the one who couldn’t tell Buck!

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Natty went for a three-mile run in the rain, then drove the bus to a Kroger and spent their last thirty dollars on five boxes of cereal, three gallons of milk, two large cartons of orange juice, and three bunches of bananas. That was all they’d have to eat until they got back to Red Bone that night. Natty kicked herself for not managing their funds better, because she knew that, win or lose, the Bones were going to be starving after the game. Natty let herself into the room and dropped the groceries on the bed. “Where’s Em and Brenda?” Natty asked Geneva.

  “Gone next door, I’d guess,” Geneva replied, without looking up from her book.

  Natty rolled her eyes. “Nice chaperoning, Neva,” she said sarcastically.

  “They be okay,” Geneva said. “They good kids.”

  Natty knocked three time
s before the door swung open. She stood in the rain, dumbfounded, her mouth open in shock as she stared at four boys with their heads completely shaved, each one bald as a soccer ball, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, my God!” she managed to shriek.

  Then Pie squeezed through, his head shaved, too. Natty laughed as she hugged her son. Suddenly she stopped and the smile left her face as she remembered that Emma and Brenda weren’t in their room. Then they emerged from the bathroom, their hair gone, followed by a bald Zack Willard still holding a disposable razor. His smile lit up the little motel room. Hand to her mouth, Natty shrieked, “Your mothers are going to kill me.” Then she hugged the two girls and kissed the tops of their heads.

  “Now, this’s what I calls a team!” roared Zack, who was answered by a loud chorus of “Bones, Bones, Bones!” Natty stopped worrying about whether the Bones would be up for the championship game.

  * * *

  THE PITTSBURGH GOLDEN Knights were big and fast and strong, just as Natty had figured, but maybe they were a little too cocky. She wondered if the Knights hadn’t had it a little too easy. They hadn’t been in a tough game, as the Bones had against Charleston, and now, seeing that they were playing a real team, they were tightening up a bit.

  Pittsburgh enjoyed an early territorial advantage, but they had few chances on goal as Zack skillfully directed the defense. The constant rain had slowed down both offenses. The field was becoming soggier and muddier by the minute, with puddles that stopped a rolling ball dead.

  Just when it seemed that the half would end in a scoreless tie, Paul stole a careless pass in the midfield, dribbled easily around a Knights defender, and quickly advanced ten yards. Emma jogged lazily ahead of the play, as Paul waited for her move. As she closed in on the fullback in front of her, Emma faked her usual run to the outside, then spun back, cutting between the fullback and the sweeper, and Paul threaded her a perfect through ball, putting her one-on-one with the goaltender twenty yards out.

  She tipped the ball with her right foot to slow it and immediately fired through the ball with her left foot, blasting it into the top left corner of the net. The Bones gathered around Emma and Paul and created a new goal celebration, with everyone rubbing the tops of their bald heads. The crowd cheered. It was only then that Natty noticed how large the crowd encircling the field had become. The bleachers were filled with umbrellas, and the opposite sideline and end lines were three-deep with spectators in rain gear. There were a significant number of little girls in soccer outfits along the sidelines at their end of the field, cheering happily for Emma’s goal.

  At halftime, Natty told her team to play good, solid defense and to wait for their openings. A team like the Knights, used to scoring a lot of goals, would become more and more frustrated and careless as the second half went on, and one more goal would win the game.

  Ten minutes into the second half, her strategy was working perfectly. Paul and Gabe were hanging back and clogging up the middle of the field, forcing the Knights to try to go over them with long balls. But Zack was too fast, and he cleaned up everything that came into his zone. Natty’s primary worry became her team’s fatigue. Still, with the slow field, the game hadn’t been anywhere near the war they’d had with Charleston, so she figured her players could hold up for another twenty minutes. Then Billy Staten sprained an ankle and she had to put Pie into the game.

  Then Zack Willard broke his leg. He slipped in the mud while planting his foot to kick the ball, and he went down awkwardly. His leg twisted under him, and he didn’t get up. The game was stopped for twenty minutes while the medics applied an inflatable cast and loaded him into an ambulance, which drove onto the field. It left deep tire ruts that quickly filled up with water.

  Natty knelt on the field next to Zack, shielding him with an umbrella and holding his hand. All she could think about was whether the boy would be able to play football again. With Zack safely in the ambulance, Natty walked back to the rest of her team. Gabe came forward, his uniform soaked, his legs, socks, and high-top sneakers caked with mud. He had a nasty red welt over one eye from an errant elbow. “I’ll play sweeper now, coach,” he offered.

  She nodded her agreement. “Good. Thanks, Gabe.” The team huddled as the ref blew his whistle impatiently, anxious to get the game going again since the rain had increased in intensity. “Okay,” Natty said, trying to sound positive. “Gabe’s sweeper; Pie, you’re in at forward; and, Sammy, you take Gabe’s spot.” She stopped as she watched the ambulance pull away, its red light flashing.

  Before Natty could say anything else, Paul clapped his hands loudly. “Okay, now,” he shouted. It was the first time some of them had ever heard the Polish boy speak. “For friend of mine, Sack, we play now like crazy motherfuckers to kick this ass of team we play, for Sack would want.” He looked around the circle of faces. “Okay, my Bones?” Smiling, he reached up and rubbed the tops of the bald heads next to him. Natty and the rest of the team laughed and rubbed the tops of as many heads as they could on their way back out to the field. She was thankful. It was a far better pep talk than she could have given.

  Gabe was an able replacement at sweeper, and Sammy was a solid midfielder, but there was no way to make up for Zack’s dominating presence. Natty could feel the tide shifting, as Pittsburgh picked up their intensity in an effort to get the tying goal.

  The Bones were hitting the wall. Four games in three days were catching up with them. At left forward, Pie was running as hard as he could, but he was barely a factor, usually sliding through the mud and out of the play as the Knights moved the ball upfield. Natty prayed for the clock to keep moving, but the talented team from Pittsburgh showed why they were undefeated. They ran hard and kept the ball in the Bones’ end of the field. Natty forced herself to walk up to the scorer’s table to check the time—just under five minutes. Gabe made a miraculous sliding save on a ball rolling into the open corner of the goal. The ball went over the end line for a corner kick.

  The corner kick floated up in the wind and rain, then disappeared in a frantic group of jumping, kicking players in front of the goal. The crowd screamed in agony as the ball pinballed around the box, with no one getting a solid foot on it. A half dozen players lay in the mud, including Brenda, when the ball squirted free to a Knight with a clear path to the goal. He buried it in the netting, causing the entire Pittsburgh bench to race onto the field in wild celebration.

  Just as the umpire placed the ball down in the center circle for the restart, the rain turned into a torrential downpour. Natty thought she could hear the sound of thunder off to the south. She knew there couldn’t be much time left on the clock and was glad to see Emma take the back pass from Paul and blast the ball downfield toward the far left corner. Emma always knew the correct play on a soccer field. Then came two sharp toots from the ref’s whistle, ending regulation play a minute early because of the weather.

  The early whistle was okay with Natty, as was the ten-minute overtime. She was certain that her team, playing full defense for ten minutes, could kill off the overtime. Then they’d go into a five-man shoot-out, which she knew would be a pretty even match. They’d take their chances in the shoot-out. Natty huddled up her team and had started to give them the strategy when she heard her name called out.

  “Say there, Miz Oakes.” Natty looked up to see the referee at the scorer’s table with the Pittsburgh coach and the tournament director; he waved her over. “Listen, Miz Oakes, what we’re gonna do here, ’cause o’ the weather, is just play the overtime and that’ll be it. Not gonna go into a shoot-out.”

  Natty raised her eyebrows. “What if it’s still tied?”

  The director spoke up. “We’ll just go by goal differential for the tournament.”

  “You can’t do that!” Natty shouted. “They can play for a tie. That’s like giving them the tournament.”

  “Well, that’s what it’s gonna be,” the director declared, turning away from the group. The referee blew his whistle and jogged out to the center of t
he field. The thunder sounded closer, and the wind blew the rain sideways as Natty trotted back to her team. She didn’t like it, but she knew it was probably a good decision.

  The Bones ran enthusiastically back out onto the field—everyone but Pie, who stood waiting for his mother’s attention. Natty turned and saw him looking at her, a pained expression on his face. He needed to be at his position; the overtime was about to start. “Pie Man, what is it?” she asked, moving toward him.

  “Mama,” he said. “Papa’s here.” He turned and pointed across the field.

  “What?” Natty sputtered, squinting into the rain at the spectators lining the field.

  “He was here for the second half. He was yelling to me.”

  “Okay, go, Pie.” She pushed him toward the field. The ball was already in play. Scanning the crowd, she saw Buck moving along the sideline, calling out to Pie. Then the cheering crowd grabbed her attention as the Knights moved the ball toward the Bones’ goal.

  The rain was pelting down, and it was hard to see the ball. Natty kept her eye on Brenda as she made a wonderful save on a hard, rolling shot. She punted the ball directly into the strong wind. Then Natty heard a shrill beeping sound from just behind her. It was Charlie’s cellphone.

  Reaching quickly into her equipment bag while trying to watch the action on the field, Natty finally located the cellphone. She looked down and pressed the green button. “Hey, Charlie,” she said, her eyes on the field. “Where are you?”

  “On the plane, coming into Charleston,” he said. The noise of the rain made it difficult to hear him. “What’s happening? Are you still playing?”

  Natty laughed and half-yelled into the phone, “We’re in overtime in the championship game. It’s pouring and your phone’s getting all wet.”