The Comeback Challenge

by Matt Christopher

  “Think that’s the way they play over in England?” Mark overheard Vince ask Charlie Burns. “Man, it must have been mass confusion on the field. Or maybe the loudest voice got to call the shots.” Vince glanced at Mark, smirked, then ran onto the field.

  Even now, three days later, Mark’s face burned at the memory. But he just swallowed it and concentrated on his warm-up drills.

  I only hope things go more smoothly today, he thought.

  Mark was set to play the middle of the forward line, and Vince would be on his right. They would be a winning combination at scoring if they could get in sync with each other. In a few seconds, Mark would find out.

  The Scorpions lined up in a three-three-four format: completing the forward three was veteran lineman Evan Andrews, to Mark’s left; Jim Shields, Mel Duffy, and John Mintz, three rookies like Mark, were at midfield; and Craig, Eddie Chu, Harvey Kahn, and Stu Watts manned the backfield. Charlie Burns was the Scorpions’ goalie.

  Tweeeeet!

  The ref blew the whistle, signaling the start of the game. He placed the ball in the center of the field, and the players took their positions.

  The Knightstown Scorpions stood out in their scarlet and gray. The late-day sunshine lit up the Terryville Raiders in their mustard yellow and blue uniforms.

  The Scorpions had won the coin toss and elected to kick.

  Mark knew what his job would be. He was to fake a pass to Evan Andrews, then quickly shoot the ball to Vince. The team captain would then set up the first play of the game. It was a simple enough thing to do.

  But it didn’t go as planned. When Mark readied himself to put the ball in play with his first tap, he noticed that the Raiders’ defense was lined up more heavily on Vince’s side of the field. It was as if they knew the ball was going to end up with Vince and were ready to stop him.

  Mark had to make a tough decision. Should he keep to the original play or improvise? As the whistle blew to start the game, Mark checked out the Raiders’ lineup one last time.

  Then he kicked the ball — to Evan Andrews. Evan looked surprised, but he recovered fast and dribbled the ball down the field. Mark and Vince raced down their lanes, too, as Evan avoided first one defensive player, then another.

  But that was as far as he got. A Raider snagged it away from Evan and booted it in the opposite direction.

  Eddie Chu was the first Scorpion to get a piece of it. He tried to kick it into the clear, but a couple of Raiders got in the way. The ball sailed off toward the sideline. Stu Watts trapped it and dribbled it forward until he was besieged by Raiders. He passed the ball toward the midfield, halfway between Mark and Vince.

  Both boys charged at it at breakneck speed. But Mark could see that Vince was a little bit ahead of him. He backed off just in time for Vince to capture the ball. With a clear field ahead, the Scorpion wing began to dribble toward the goal.

  It wasn’t long before he was overtaken by a couple of fast-moving Raiders. Mark could see Vince looking around to see which of his teammates was in the open. Mark was the closest, but Evan Andrews was shouting for the ball, too. Vince twisted around and booted the ball in Evan’s direction just seconds before a Raider defensive man attacked.

  Evan dribbled the ball for a few feet, then pivoted and booted the ball across the field to Mark.

  Mark trapped it, then nudged the ball forward with the inside of his right shoe. But the Raiders’ defense was fierce. The Knightstown center held on to the ball for only a few minutes before it was stolen by some fancy footwork on the part of the Raiders’ center halfback.

  A quick kick by the halfback sent the ball deep into Scorpion territory. The Raiders’ left wing swooped in and carried the ball close to the goal. He drew his leg back and kicked the ball toward the net — hard.

  But goalie Charlie Burns was ready. He scooped it up and sent it flying back down toward the midfield stripe.

  Mark had hung back enough to be in position for the ball when it came his way. A pass from Jim Shields gave him possession. In the distance, he could hear the approach of Raiders defensemen. But he dribbled the ball forward and stayed ahead of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that both Vince and Evan had trailed him down the field and were ready to help out.

  Glancing ahead, Mark saw that his way to the goal was blocked. As much as he wanted to be the first on the team to score, he knew it would be smarter to pass the ball to someone who had a better shot. Without hesitation, he booted the ball to Vince. The Scorpion captain trapped the ball, paused, then kicked it toward the net.

  The Raiders’ goalie leapt up and managed to stop the ball before it crossed the line.

  “Nice try,” Mark called over to Vince as the ball sailed over their heads. But Vince didn’t even glance at him as they reversed direction and started running back downfield.

  Mark knew it was possible Vince just hadn’t heard him. Somehow, though, he guessed Vince was choosing to ignore him. But why?

  He didn’t have time to think about it any further. Mel Duffy had stolen the ball from a Raider forward and had just passed it in his direction. Mark stopped it with his right foot and started to move down the field toward the Raiders’ goal again. But the field was loaded with Raiders, and there was no clear path. He dribbled the ball, looking for someone to pass to.

  A pair of Raiders double-teamed him. One snaked a foot in, stole the ball, and sent it toward his own front line.

  Mark pulled up short, then jogged slowly to center field. He glanced over at Vince, who was doing the same. Although the boy didn’t look at him, Mark was sure he saw a trace of a smile on Vince’s face.

  I must have imagined that, Mark thought. Vince can’t be glad that something bad happened when I tried to take the ball downfield. Can he?

  Suddenly Mark wasn’t so sure. Everything that had happened so far between the two boys indicated that Vince might be perfectly content if Mark failed on the field.

  The little flicker of anger Mark had felt earlier in the day flamed a little higher at the thought. But as before, he pushed it away and turned his attention back to the game.

  Soon enough, the ball came back toward the Raiders’ goal. Mark watched Vince bear down on it. Mark had to admit that he was one of the best players on the field. The Scorpions’ captain seemed to be everywhere at once. He stole, dribbled, and passed with great accuracy.

  Vince’s onslaught had exhausted the Raiders’ defense. One player tried to boot the ball clear from in front of the goal, but his kick was off. Vince grabbed his chance. With a great leap, he headed the airborne ball toward their net — and in it went for the first goal of the game!

  As the crowd cheered, the team crowded around Vince to give him slaps on the back and high fives. Mark joined in, but just as he was about to offer his congratulations, the ref blew the whistle to signal the continuation of the game.

  Mark glanced toward the sideline as he started to follow the action down the field. There were Grandma and Grandpa Conway and, squeezed in next to them, his father! It looked as though Mr. Conway was going to find time for him after all.

  The ball was now deep in Scorpions territory. Craig and Eddie Chu were bearing down on the Raiders’ forwards. There were two quick attempts at a kick on goal. But misfired. Still, the Scorpions just couldn’t seem to get the ball out of the circle.

  Tweeet!

  A penalty was called — against the Scorpions!

  Johnny Mintz had gotten so tangled up with a Raiders wing, he had committed a minor foul. The Raiders would get a free kick.

  Mark hustled over to the goal line. Coach Ryan used his forward line to form the wall defending the goal area.

  The kick was a fireball that Evan Andrews, lined up on Mark’s right, somehow managed to block. Jim Shields collected it and dribbled a few yards before passing it on to Mel Duffy. The ball moved steadily downfield, crossing the midfield line. Finally the Scorpions were deep into Raiders territory. Vince took possession.

  “Come on, Scorpion
s!” Mark called as he raced downfield. He was careful to keep at least one defensive man between him and the goal so that he wouldn’t be called offsides. But he made sure he was in good position to dart ahead should the ball come his way.

  So far, though, Vince had passed to him exactly once — and then it was only because Mark caught up with the ball before it got to its intended receiver. Despite the fact that they had both been constantly moving back and forth, up and down, and across the field as a team, there was almost no contact between them.

  But as the play became concentrated in the penalty area, they had to pay more attention to each other. A screw-up here could be costly.

  Vince had just wriggled free of two Raiders defensemen. He looked around, then half-dribbled, half-booted the ball toward the center of the circle.

  Mark swooped in to trap it. As he lifted his head, it looked as though he would have a good shot on goal. Then a Raider stepped in front of him, leaving the player he had been guarding wide open. That player was Evan. Mark booted it to him.

  The Raider jumped back toward Evan, but Evan was too quick. He stopped the ball, then instantly returned it to Mark. The Raider was caught out of position — and Mark took advantage of the opportunity. In one smooth motion, he stopped the ball, bent his knee, and let fly.

  The ball zoomed through the air, passed the goalie’s outstretched arms, and hit its target.

  Goal!

  The score was now Scorpions 2, Raiders 0.

  This time the team crowded around Mark and Evan, slapping them on their backs and palms. Mark noticed that Vince hovered around the edge of the group and was the first one to leave when the ref blew his whistle to signal the end of the first half.

  Evan rushed up to Mark and started to crow about the goal.

  “It was a classic!” he said, brushing his sweaty hair back off his brow. “What a combo. Almost like a give-and-go in basketball!”

  Mark smiled and nodded. “It’s a play we did in England a few times, but I’d forgotten about it until now. It really works when the defense isn’t prepared. Plus you can feed the ball to the center position from either side of the field. Maybe Coach Ryan’ll add it to our playbook.”

  Mark heard a snort come from behind him. He turned to see Vince laughing with another teammate. He thought he heard the word “brownnose” come out of Vince’s mouth.

  Is that what he’s got against me? Mark thought. He thinks I’m sucking up to the coach, just because I’ve got a play to suggest?

  Mark found that hard to believe, though. When he had played in England, his teammates had often worked with the coach to come up with good plays. After all, weren’t the players on the field just as knowledgeable about what could and couldn’t work as the people standing on the sidelines? Even when his mother had coached, she had sometimes bounced ideas off her players.

  The second-half whistle blew, and play resumed. The Scorpions couldn’t seem to do anything wrong. Both Vince and Mark scored goals. The home team allowed their opponents one goal in the last few seconds of the game, leaving the final score Scorpions 4, Raiders 1.

  The fans loved every minute of it. When the whistle blew to signal the end of the game, they swarmed out of the stands. Cheers and hugs slowed down the team as they made their way toward a table that had been set up with refreshments for the players.

  “Great game, son!” Mark’s father was the first one to reach him. He gave him a warm embrace.

  “Two goals — my, oh, my,” said Grandma Con-way. “This calls for a party. I’m glad I made something special for dinner. We’ll all celebrate together.”

  But Mr. Conway shook his head. “I won’t be able to make it,” he said.

  “Do you have to work again tonight, Dad?” Mark asked, disappointed.

  Mr. Conway’s face darkened. “No, I have to meet my lawyer,” he said angrily. “Your mother just won’t let up on her demands. Why, she thinks she can —”

  “Bill,” Grandma Conway interrupted quietly. She shook her head.

  Mr. Conway looked at her, then glanced at Mark. “Well, anyway, I guess I’d better get going.” He gave Mark a fleeting kiss on the cheek and rushed off.

  “Oh, look at these lovely cookies,” said Grandma Conway. “You’d better not eat too many and spoil your dinner.”

  Mark stared at the ground. “I’m not very hungry. Come on,” he said to Craig, who had been standing with him the whole time. “We’d better get cleaned up.”

  As they got inside the locker room, Craig asked, “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing,” said Mark.

  “Nothing, huh?” said Craig. “Well, I guess it’s nothing you’d want to even tell a friend about.”

  Mark twisted his towel into a knot and looked at the friendly face staring at him.

  “It’s not that,” he said. “It’s — it’s — it’s just, well, you see, I’m not living where I used to because I’m not living with my parents anymore.”

  Craig cocked his head and asked, “You’re not? Why? I mean, why not?”

  “Because they’re not living together because they’re getting a divorce.” He realized it was the first time he had said it out loud. He went on, “And they both want me to live with them, and all they do is fight over it. So I’m living with my grandparents. It’s no big deal.”

  “If you say so, Mark,” Craig said quietly, his usual joking manner subdued, “then it’s no big deal. No sweat.”

  5

  Mrs. Conway steered the dark green convertible into a parking space close to the main entrance to the mall. Mark unbuckled his seat belt and got out.

  “I really don’t need anything,” he said for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He pushed his way through the revolving door behind her.

  “Of course you do,” she insisted, taking his arm and steering him toward the mall’s biggest department store. “In a store this large, you’re sure to find something you want. Besides, how do I know you have all your school clothes? As a matter of fact, do you have enough underwear and socks?”

  That made Mark smile.

  “I should have enough socks. You send them to me from all over the world!” He bit back the rest of what he was thinking: that it would be nicer for him to receive more than the short note she stuck in with each pair. He didn’t want to ruin her good mood by sounding mean-spirited.

  Mrs. Conway laughed. “Just be glad I stopped sending underwear! Remember that pair I sent you with the little bears hugging and kissing?”

  “Yuck! I’ll never forget the time they were the only pair I had that weren’t in the laundry. And that was the day we had gym class!” Mark said. “Boy, did I ever take a pounding from the rest of the guys.”

  “Oh, I can’t believe those English boys had never seen anything like that,” said Mrs. Conway.

  “Don’t kid yourself,” said Mark. “Those English kids could be tough. You never really got to know them.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was sorry he’d spoken them. He never said things like that to his parents. After all, it didn’t help matters.

  They had reached the Boys’ Department. Rows and rows of neatly buttoned shirts hung on racks like a regiment of well-trained soldiers. Tables stacked with creased and folded trousers were aligned according to size and color. At Mark’s comment, Mrs. Conway put down the blue-and-white-striped rugby shirt she was examining and put her hands on his shoulders.

  “I tried to,” she said. “I simply didn’t have the time. I guess you just didn’t get the kind of ‘milk and cookies’ mom you wanted.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Mark mumbled. “Forget I said anything.”

  The two wandered silently between the rows of clothing. Then Mark saw the sporting goods section.

  “Hey, do you think they sell soccer shoes here?”

  “Why? Do you need a pair?” asked his mother.

  “Well, you’re the one who taught me that a good-fitting sport shoe is important if you’re
going to play well. And my old pair is starting to feel a little tight,” Mark replied.

  “Well, then, let’s see about getting you the best pair of soccer shoes they have. Excuse me,” she said to the salesperson. “Do you have soccer shoes?”

  The woman pointed the way. A few minutes later, they were surrounded by fishing rods, skis, tennis racquets, and sleeping bags. Mark spotted a display with a big basket of black-and-white soccer balls.

  “Gotta be nearby,” he said. “Oh, there they are.” He pointed to a wall with boxes and boxes of all kinds of sporting footwear — baseball cleats, running shoes, basketball high-tops, and over on one side, soccer shoes.

  Mrs. Conway checked her watch, then handed him her credit card.

  “Just find the ones you want, try them on, and if they fit and you like them, pay for them with this. Just tell the salesperson I’ll be back to sign for them,” she said.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “There’s a pay phone over on that wall. I have to call into my office.”

  “But this is Saturday,” Mark protested.

  “Sorry, sweetie,” she said. She paused a moment, then went on in a hushed voice, “I didn’t want to tell you this until I knew something more definite, but maybe it’s better you know what’s happening now. Mark, it seems that my company might be moving out of state sometime soon. I’m hoping I will be moving with them — and if the court decides you’re to stay with me, you’ll be coming with me.”

  Mark’s heart sank. Moving again? he thought.

  But out loud, all he said was, “I guess that’s why you don’t have time for soccer right now.”

  “Oh, Mark, I’ll try to get to some of your games,” she said. “It’s just that afternoons are so hard.”

  “Yeah, but you used to have time. Some of the guys on the team even remember when you coached us all those years ago.”

  “They do? That was fun, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Conway got a faraway look in her eyes. But then that look changed. “Well, that was then. Now, thanks to your father, I simply don’t have the luxury of doing such things. Every spare minute I have, I have to spend with my lawyers.” She straightened up and started for the phone. “I won’t be a minute. You just go and get your shoes. Get good ones, too.”