He let out a heavy sigh and said, "They didn’t do you any favors, Ryan."
Ryan maintained her steady gaze and finally asked just one more question. "Coach Ratzinger sold me out, didn’t she?"
He looked very pained as he just nodded his head a slight bit. "I think she made the coaches here doubt your emotional stability."
"Emotional stability? Being a lesbian in San Francisco calls your stability into question!?" Jamie nearly shouted.
Ryan smiled indulgently at her partner and explained to the coaches, "She’s my little champion."
"Well, Jesus, Ryan, someone needs to be! It just slays me how chicken sh…" she began, but Ryan gently covered her mouth with her hand.
"There’s nothing in here about Ryan being gay, Jamie. Now, it’s possible that my predecessor just didn’t put that in the file, but this indicates that Ryan just quit for no good reason."
"But she didn’t!!!" Now Jamie was shouting, and Ryan felt her stomach start to clench as the tension in the room rose sharply.
"It’s okay, Honey. I just need to know the facts to put it behind me once and for all." Turning to Coach Placer she said, "I appreciate that you were honest with me, Coach. That means a lot." She got up to shake his hand, nodded to the assistants and shook each one's hand as she made her way towards the door. "I’ll call you late this afternoon."
After they walked a few feet down the dark hallway, she pushed Jamie gently against the wall and gave her a very sincere kiss of thanks. "What was that for?" the startled woman gasped.
"For loving me, and trying so hard to defend my honor."
"I do love you, Ryan, and it makes me irrationally angry to see what a bunch of asshole adults did to a fragile young girl. I’d do anything to take that hurt away."
"I know, Babe, but it can’t be done. We just need to move on now."
As they walked down the hallway, Jamie pulled her to a stop in front of a large display of color pictures of the previous year’s team. She smiled up at her and said, "I know that you haven’t made up your mind, but I choose volleyball."
"He was a nice guy, wasn't he?" Ryan said thoughtfully. "And I'm really excited about getting a scholarship."
"Ryan, Ryan, you're not focusing on the important things," she chided as her face broke into a gleeful smile, "Look at these outfits!"
They drove to Sufficient Grounds and spent an hour sipping lattés and munching on scones. Ryan's next interview was at nine, and she assured Jamie that her current outfit would be acceptable for the next sport as well. "Aside from the outfits, what did you think?" Ryan asked, sharing a teasing smile with her partner.
"I liked the coach a lot," Jamie said. "He seemed like the kind of guy you could really get along with."
"I think so, too," she said thoughtfully. "Telling me the truth about my coach at Sacred Heart boosted his stock way up in my book."
"I can well imagine," Jamie agreed, knowing that Ryan despised being treated like a child.
"Well, it’s time for the last of the interviews," she said, standing to stretch. As she did so she winced a bit, but kept right on doing it.
"Hey, what was that war cry you let out when you were slamming that ball at those poor girls?" Jamie was laughing at the memory, but Ryan just shook her head.
"That wasn’t a war cry, Babe," she insisted. "That was an ‘oh my God, I feel like my abs have been cut by a razor blade’ cry. That’ll teach me to work out my frustrations on my own body!"
"Where to this time, Honey?" Jamie asked as they approached the Boxster.
"Do you know where Kleeberger Field is?"
"No. I've never heard of it."
"Then I'll drive," she said with a grin as she slipped the keys from Jamie's hand.
About 15 minutes later they were striding across a well-tended field to meet the stocky woman who was obviously waiting for them. Ryan approached her and stuck out her hand. "I'm Ryan O'Flaherty," she said in her warm alto voice.
"Good to meet you, Ryan, I'm Sandra Johnston." She turned to Jamie as Ryan made the introductions. "I don't know much about you, and I didn't have time to go through my predecessor’s recruiting files, so tell me a little about your background."
Ryan began, "I played at Sacred Heart in San Francisco from '88 to '91. We had a pretty good team…"
"Pretty good! Sacred Heart was the state champ in ’90! Hey…wait a minute…I remember you!" The coach was now bubbling with enthusiasm. "Didn’t you play under a different name them?"
"Kinda," Ryan admitted. "My given name is Siobhán, and that’s how I was listed."
"I tried to recruit you," Coach Johnston said, narrowing her brow in concentration. "I was an assistant at Santa Clara then, but as I recall, you didn’t have any interest in moving up to play at the college level. What happened?"
"Long story," Ryan said dismissively. "I took off a few years and went to USF for a couple of years. I’m just now thinking of getting back into it."
The coach pursed her lips and rocked back on her heels. "That's an awfully long time to be away from the sport, Ryan. What makes you want to try it again?"
"My financial circumstances have changed, and I'm able to participate in sports this year instead of having to have a job. It's my last year of college and I really miss the competition. I want one more chance to be on a team before I have to join the real world," she said with a grin.
"You look like you're in great shape," the coach said, as she looked her over from top to bottom. "What do you do for a workout?"
"I do a lot of weight training, and I run five to ten miles a day, usually in the hills. Oh, and I ride my bike about 100 miles a week."
"I'd give my eyeteeth if I could get some of my girls to do that much in a week," she said with a laugh. "You certainly sound like you're able to motivate yourself. I'm willing to give you a tryout, if you want."
"Sure. I am talking to some of the other programs, but I'm very serious about playing some sport this year."
"Do you want to do it now or do you need to prepare?"
"Let's go," Ryan said with a grin.
Jamie still had absolutely no idea what sport they were talking about. It's obviously not swimming--no pool; not basketball--no court; not softball--no diamond. I don't think they'd let women try out for football...but with Ryan, you never know.
Ryan walked over to a bench and peeled off the thin nylon warm-up pants that she had put on after her volleyball workout. She rummaged around in her gym bag and took out a pair of black leather shoes with plastic cleats and a pair of knee socks. Before she pulled the socks up, she inserted a pair of shin guards, adjusting the inserts until they were just so. To Jamie’s regret she tugged a T-shirt on over her tank, but she had kept the tiny shorts on, so Jamie was still relatively satisfied with her look.
While Ryan fussed with her shoes and socks, Jamie took a moment to observe the coach. As a newcomer to the lesbian club she found that she spent a lot of time trying to guess sexual orientations—something that surprised her a little, since she had never done so before. Ryan had assured her that this was a passing phase and that most people did it when they first "came out," but Jamie was still uncomfortable with her unconscious habit. She tried her best to refrain from labeling every woman without a man draped all over her as a lesbian, but assessing Sandra Johnston caused her to immediately place her into the "definite" category. The coach was short, stocky and remarkably butch, giving the impression of a pit bull as she strutted around the field, loosening up her ample muscles. Her hair looked like she had placed a bowl on it before she cut it, and her features were compressed on her pugnacious-looking, square face.
Sandra went to her long nylon bag and pulled out a pair of varnished wooden sticks with hooked ends and two small, hard white balls. Field hockey? Jamie gaped, before she reminded herself that field hockey was just about the only sport that was left after all of the others had been eliminated by her deductive reasoning.
When Sandra was standing still she looked quite bu
lky, but as she started to warm up Jamie noticed that she moved with the confident, graceful strides of an athlete, and she quickly saw how her compact body was perfectly suited to the game. Her short, powerful legs let her stop and turn quickly, and her small stature allowed her to take a full swing at the ball without bending at all.
Ryan, on the other hand, was so unusually tall that she had to bend quite a bit to hit the ball with the rather short stick. That didn’t seem to slow her down much though, Jamie had to admit as she dashed around the field.
When they were both limbered up, Coach Johnston tossed one of the balls down on the ground and she and Ryan began to pass it back and forth, using their sticks to direct its movement. After they given quite an impressive little display, she had Ryan run the length of the field several times, controlling the little ball with her stick. Jamie was astonished at the dexterity that her lover showed in this exhibition. She could move the ball around so effortlessly that it looked as though it was glued to her stick. She knew that the stick was perfectly flat, but the way Ryan played it sure didn't seem so.
After she had shown that she could control the ball, the coach tried to run along with her and take the ball away. For seven trips up and down the field, Ryan never relinquished her control of the ball. Jamie was pleased that, as the work out went on, the Coach's smile grew bigger. She finally threw her stick up in the air and shouted, "I give!"
Ryan bent over and rested her hands on her knees for a few moments, but she quickly caught her breath and jogged back over to Jamie with a big smile on her face. "That's my most natural sport," she said with a cocky grin.
"If you want to play, we'll find a spot for you," the coach said as she gasped for air. "Shit! I didn't even ask you what position you play." She looked up at Ryan from her bent position and let her face curl into a smile. "Does it matter?" she asked with a laugh.
"Not really," Ryan blushed modestly. "I can be a pure defender or a goalie but I prefer to be a midfielder. I like to score, but playing defense really gets my juices flowing."
"I seem to remember that you were going to play soccer, weren’t you?" the coach asked, still slightly out of breath.
"Yeah. I’m still considering it," she admitted. "Plus there’s a spot on the volleyball team I’m considering."
Sandra looked a little crestfallen, knowing that her small, non-scholarship program didn’t have much of a chance against the big sports. But she summoned a bright smile and said, "We'd love to have you, Ryan. If you want to talk to any of the players I'd be happy to hook you up. My assistant coaches would be glad to talk to you, too. Boy, when I left the house today I told my husband that I had to go waste an hour. I'm awfully glad I was wrong!" she said as she shook Ryan's hand firmly.
As they walked across the field to their car, they waited until the coach was out of earshot before they looked at each other and simultaneously shouted, "Husband?!"
While Ryan took another shower, Jamie prepared a massive lunch for her favorite athlete. Ryan came down just as she placed a large vegetable salad at the table for her to begin munching on. "Oooh…this looks good," Ryan purred, casting a lingering glance towards her lunch while she dutifully hugged her partner from behind.
Jamie grasped both of the arms that circled her waist and took a moment to breathe in Ryan’s sweet, clean scent. She couldn’t resist turning in her embrace for a few kisses, releasing her partner only when she felt Ryan’s attention start to flag. "I can tell you’re thinking more about your lunch than you are about me, Chow Hound, so go on." She swatted her firmly on the butt. "Go to your first love."
Ryan scampered across the kitchen, attempting to look contrite. "My stomach has a mind of its own, Honey," she insisted. "It’s the most dominant part of my psyche."
"Sure it is, Sweetheart," Jamie said in mock agreement. "Next time you want to make love, I’m going to remind you of that and give you a sandwich instead."
Ryan knew she’d been caught in a major lie, so she quickly switched the subject as she dug into the crisp vegetables with their light poppy seed vinaigrette dressing. "You are the best cook in the universe," she gushed, an innocent look plastered on her smiling face.
"I’m glad you think so, Love," Jamie soothed as she bent to kiss just above Ryan’s ear. "Then you won’t mind when I feed you rather than f…"
Ryan whipped around in her chair and inserted a baby carrot into her partner’s mouth. "Jamie! I think you were going to say a very naughty word!" The shock she was trying to affect was ineffective on her grinning lover.
She bit down sharply on the carrot and smiled as she chewed. "Fondle, Babe. I was going to say fondle."
"No matter what you were going for, neither is acceptable," Ryan insisted. She pulled Jamie onto her lap and kissed her tenderly, the kisses growing in intensity until Jamie’s breath caught. "Touching you and loving you are the most important things I do. I would gladly starve if I had to chose between that and eating."
Jamie knew there was more than a little hyperbole in this statement, but she appreciated the sincerity in the big blue eyes that gazed at her lovingly. She rested her forehead against Ryan’s and whispered, "We’ll never starve as long as we can love each other. Our love is completely life-sustaining." Their lips merged in another bout of achingly tender kisses, neither making a move to break the contact until Ryan pulled away as she sniffed delicately, "Is something burning?"
"Umm hmmm," Jamie murmured, leaning in for another scorcher. "Yipes!" She jumped from Ryan’s lap and dashed for the range, turning off the burner under the butter she had been melting. "I bet Wolfgang Puck doesn’t have to work with these kinds of distractions!" Switching pans, she paid attention to her work, ignoring Ryan’s amused chuckles as she prepared an egg white, chile and cheese omelet for her partner.
When the meal was ready Jamie sat next to her partner and munched off her plate while Ryan talked about the decision she had to make. "I’m in a bit of a quandary," she admitted.
"Tell me what you’re thinking about, Hon," Jamie urged. "Tell me which sport is your favorite, ignoring every other concern."
Ryan thought for a minute and said, "Soccer is my favorite, I guess. I like that it’s played outside, I love being a goalie and the pace is just right for me. I can watch the whole game from my position and I like the level of concentration I have to maintain to defend my goal. I can also express a lot of emotion as a goalie. It's really fun to make a great save and be able to celebrate. There aren't that many other activities that give me the personal satisfaction of saving a goal."
"That sounds pretty important. Is there anything you don't like about it?"
"No. I love soccer, but there are other factors that I can’t ignore. I'm still a little bit afraid of having to hit the ball with my head. The neurologists I consulted don't think I'll have any permanent damage from my concussions, but they all said that the effects of trauma are cumulative. I don't have to use my head much as a goalie, but it does happen. And when a ball is coming at you at 40 or 50 miles per hour, hitting it with your head really gets your attention."
"Honey, if there is any chance that you can injure your brain by playing..."
"I know, Jamie. It's not worth the risk," she said quietly, forcing herself to acknowledge that her head injuries had finally caught up to her. She paused for another few seconds before she continued. "You know, even if that wasn’t a consideration, I don’t think I’d play. As much as I wish I wasn’t, I 'm still angry with Coach Greene. I hated the way she treated me, and it really pissed me off when she offered to yank a scholarship for me."
"Those seem like pretty good reasons to not play."
"They are," she admitted. "But I really love soccer," she said wistfully. "It’s hard to admit that some things that mean a lot to me are simply out of my reach now. I guess this is part of growing up." The sad look on her face made Jamie wish she could make the reality of the situation go away, but she knew it was unthinkable to risk Ryan’s health for the sake of a sport.
<
br /> "Maybe soccer is on my mind more because of the World Cup coming up. Would you like to go to some of the matches? The first-round games are at Stanford."
"I'd love to," Jamie said, smiling at the flicker of a grin on her partner’s face. "You can explain some of the strategy to me."
"That I can do," Ryan agreed confidently. "So… if we narrow it down between volleyball and field hockey I still have a tough choice. Field hockey is truly my most natural sport. It feels effortless when I play, and my instincts just lead me to the ball. The other plus is that they only play 16 games and there are only two road trips."
"I keep forgetting about road trips. How many does the volleyball team make?"
"Probably five or six and then the NCAA tournaments, if the team gets that far."
"Hmm…that is a lot," she agreed. "Which sport do you like better?"
"Field hockey," Ryan said firmly. "I like volleyball, but I don't love it. Plus it's really hard on my knees. They ache like a bitch after a five game match."
"Then you should play field hockey," Jamie urged.
"There are a few more factors that are important to me," Ryan said. "And one of them is kind of embarrassing."
"What could be embarrassing about field hockey?"
"No, not the sport. I'm embarrassed that one of my considerations is that nobody cares about field hockey. There are usually fewer than 20 people who come to a match. It feels more like you're just running around with a bunch of your friends. I think that's one of the things I like best about it. But on the other hand, if I'm going to devote a ton of my time to a sport I'd like to get some recognition for it."
"And it embarrasses you to feel that way?" she asked gently, touching Ryan’s hand softly.
"It's pretty self-serving. I wish I didn't need the approval of fans, but I do. And part of the reason that I want to play is to get the full experience of playing a major sport at the Division One level. Field hockey won't give me that."
"I think I see your point. Do you like volleyball enough to dedicate yourself to it?"
Disclosures - SF4 Page 21
