by Jess Bentley
“David and I are history, Willie. I appreciate you coming down here, but… I'm sorry... I can’t do anything for you or for David.”
Willie smiles, but there’s a hint of disappointment on his face. “Well, I gotta go anyway. I'm expected back at the stadium. Sure you don’t want to come to the game with me?” He tries one last time.
“Sorry, Willie,” is all I can say.
Willie pays for his drink and turns around to walk away.
I know something has changed inside me.
“Willie,” I call out and Willie immediately turns. I realize I’ve made a mistake. The hope that I’ve changed my mind about coming to the game is written all over his face.
“Good luck… for the game,” I say lamely, feeling bad about disappointing him.
He nods, and turns away.
Chapter 101
As I jog on to the field, the stadium is already full. For a country that’s not particularly crazy about the sport, plenty have come in time for the cup final. Anaheim Knights vs Miami Titans. David Adams vs Javier ‘El Matador’ Romero. The old rivalry, fueled by a new fire.
I barely get any applause as I jog around the field with some of my team members. Not a surprise. But I promised myself in the morning that I’m going to be positive. I’m not going to listen to anybody else—just put my head down and focus on the game. The only problem is I’m still not sure if I’m going to play in this game at all.
The coach still hasn’t announced the starting lineup yet and I have a very slim hope of making it. I stretch and put extra pressure on the leg that was injured. The leg isn’t a hundred percent yet. A slight discomfort pangs as I do a few lunges tells me that if the opposition team knocks me around as they always do, I’ll be limping again in no time.
But this is the important game. A chance to redeem my reputation. It’s a chance to go down as a hero in the history of the Knights and I’m not going to let it slide just because of an injury. A loud cheer goes up around the stadium and I’m jolted out of pre-game thoughts.
I turn to see Javier Romero jogging on to the field. Everyone’s attention is on Javier, while the Argentine’s attention is on me. Javier smirks, like a man sure of himself. After a quick glance, I continue what I was doing. If I’m to win this, then he can’t let anyone else distract me.
Especially Javier.
Javier isn’t warming up. He’s playing with two balls and doing tricks for the crowd. He accidentally kicks one hard toward me.
He’s just trying to provoke me.
For a moment, I’m tempted to kick the ball back at him, or to go over and play some tricks on him, but I don't. My mind is already in a dark place and I can’t let someone like Javier trigger the repressed anger inside.
Thankfully for me, the assistant coach calls for an end to the warmup and informs us the starting lineup has been posted in the locker room. The moment of truth is here. Within minutes, I find out whether I’m going to start the game or if I’m just going to sit on the bench.
When I read the list on the board, I want to punch a hole in the wall. My name is not on the list. True to his reputation, coach Miller decided to relegate his best player to the bench. I shake my head in disappointment. My one last chance to get one over Javier, to beat him, and the coach just took it away.
“Sorry about that, man.” I hear Willie’s voice and turn.
“I was expecting it, but feels much worse now that it actually happened,” I say.
“Don’t be so down. There’s still a chance that the coach will sub you into the game.”
“Have you seen him look at me? He has nothing but contempt. He doesn’t even talk me directly.”
“Man, I always trust my gut feeling and today my gut feeling tells me that you're going to play, and you're going to do very well.” Willie smiles.
“I wish I was as confident as you are.”
Willie is starting the match and I would give anything to be in his position. Nonetheless, I’m happy for him.
“Maybe we should go pray in the chapel,” Willie says, nodding in the general direction of where the little chapel is located, intended for religious players who want to send in a last minute prayer.
“Mate, you having a laugh? I haven’t been to a church in years.”
“Man, today you need all the prayer you can get. I'm just offering you what I know.” Willie shrugs. Thinking it through my desperation to play even a small part in the game is worth giving it a shot.
Willie leads me to the chapel, saying words of encouragement on the way. He ushers me into the chapel and slides in to turn on the lights. When I turn to face the altar, my shock is complete. Carrie stands there, her hands clasped together, an unsure look on her face. I turn to look at Willie, to ask for an explanation, but he’s already making an exit.
“You’re welcome,” Willie winks before he shuts the door behind him.
“David.”
“Carrie.” The shock of seeing her is fresh and I don't know what to say. I just want to rush toward her, lift her in my arms and hold her close.
“David... I'm so sorry.”
“For what?”
“For the article and everything else. But I didn't do it. I didn't write that article. My article was completely different, I can show you if you want. It was Max, my boss, who changed it.”
The tension that’s been in my body since the day that article came out suddenly dissipates. In spite of what Shauna kept saying, I knew that Carrie couldn’t have done this to me. The kiss we shared, the love we shared… it was not fake. The way she closed her eyes when she kisses me and the second or two that she lingers on my lips, tells me she really did feel a lot of things for him. That this isn’t all just an illusion.
“I knew it. Deep inside my heart I knew it. You could’ve never done this to me.” Looking into her eyes, they reflect back everything I feel. The intense longing. I’m lost for words.
Are we back where we started? Has she came to say goodbye? What is this?
“I left because of that and cause I thought you and Lucy had something going on,” she says softly.
“Carrie, there’s nothing between…” I start but she puts a finger on my lips and smiles that smile that I’ve been yearning to see for so long. “I know. Willie told me. Now please, will you just kiss me?”
I don’t need to be asked twice. Carrie stands on her toes, reaching up for my lips and I embrace her, never intending to let go again. Having given up all hope of kissing her, of holding her and of loving her once, I won’t go through that again.. My hand brushes through her hair and I make my claim on her.
She’s mine and I’m going to let that change. Not in a hundred years.
Everything suddenly comes alive. As we part from each other, I stand there, just breathing in the fullness of her.
“I’d love to be held by you all day, but you do have a game to play.” She plants a peck on my lips. That sinking feeling of sitting on the bench comes back again but somehow with Carrie back, I don't feel as morose about not playing as I did earlier.
“The coach hasn’t put me in the starting lineup. I might as well come along with you and watch the game from the stands,” he smiles.
“I've got a feeling that you'll play today. And when you do, I want you to score a goal for me.” she plants another peck on my lips.
“A goal for you? Well, that’s going to cost you a lot. I'm going to need a few hundred more of these kisses for that,” I tell her and she smacks me on the arm playfully.
“Now if you two lovebirds are done here, we have a game to go to,” Willie says, knocking on the door and peeking in.
“I owe you one,” I fist bump Willie on the way out toward the locker room.
“Daddy!” Harry comes rushing toward me, breaking away from Shauna who’s waiting outside the locker room, babysitting the little boy.
“There’s my lad. You remember Carrie, don’t you?” I lift the boy up, but he just shies away and hides his face in my chest.
“He’s shy sometimes, but he’ll get used to everything,” I smile. “Now, Harry, Daddy has to go and do his job. Will you be fine with Carrie?”
Harry nods.
“We’ll be okay, don’t you worry about us,” Carrie says as she takes hold of Harry’s hand. It’s a pretty picture. The two people that I love the most, standing next to each other.
“Don’t forget to score a goal for me,” Carrie shouts as I head for the field.
I turn around.
“As you Americans say,” I grin, “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”
Chapter 102
Considering soccer wasn’t a sport I had any interest in a month ago, the anxiety I’m feeling over the final is a bit of a shock. Thankfully, Harry’s been asking all sorts of questions and has kept my mind off of some of the worries I have for David. Harry’s a delight and I’m happy to see that we’re getting along.
Still, my thoughts kept circling back to David. Watching him sit by the sidelines impatiently, I can tell that he’s itching to get on to the field. Every time I look at him, he kicks at something in frustration because his team’s playing badly—or he’s sitting with his head in his hands since he can’t do anything about it.
The second half of the match has already started and the Anaheim Knights are trailing the Miami Titans by one goal. As fate would have it, that single goal was scored by Javier Romero, who celebrated right in front of the Knights’ bench in an attempt to provoke David. Everybody in the stands is talking of their rivalry and to me it seems that many came simply to see if another fight would break out between the two. Luckily, nothing has happened yet.
Although I don’t consider myself a religious person, I prayed for David when I waited for him in the chapel. I’ve said a thousand prayers since the game started as well. I just want him to get his chance at redemption. Especially now that he is all mine.
“Why are you smiling?” Harry asks innocently. I take his face in my hands and kiss him on the forehead, but he shies away again.
“Because I'm very happy and I will be even more happy when your daddy scores a goal for us.”
“Yay!” The little boy says and once again, stands up on his seat to spot his father. He’s desperate to see his father play.
I’m pleased at how quickly David and I were able to clear our misunderstanding. This is how a meaningful, strong relationship is. After we had spent that short time in the chapel, there was a stark change in David’s attitude and his appearance. Determination sparked in his eyes—the look of a man who desperately wants to be happy and make those he loves happy. My fingers are crossed for him.
Chapter 103
Punching my palm, I try hard to not let frustration get the best of me. Only fifteen minutes are left in the match and yet, Coach Miller hasn’t given me as much as a look. Javier had scored the single goal for the Titans and so far, none of my teammates looked capable of equalizing the score.
I shoot yet another look to the assistant coach but he just shrugs his shoulders, indicating that he’s got no clue what the head coach has in mind.
A loud shout comes out of the crowd and I see that one of my team mates, the one who had replaced me, is on the ground writhing in agony. He’s been fouled hard by one of the Miami players and there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he’s picked up a serious injury. No surprise, since the Miami players have been playing very rough throughout the match.
“All right, you’re up,” Coach Miller walks up to me and finally says the four words I never thought I’d hear.
I quickly stretch and clear my thoughts. I have a game to focus on and I am going to make a mark on it, no matter what it takes.
“Don’t let me down, boy.” Coach Miller gives me a stern look but I ignore it. I’d rather let my performance do the talking. As I jog on to the field, I turn to look at Carrie and Harry cheering me in the stands. I know I have to do it for them. All my life I’ve fought for glory but that was all for my own self. This time, it’s not. I won’t lose tonight when the two people I love the most are there watching, expecting great things.
Barely a few minutes go by and I’ve already been fouled three times. The opposition player grins, smirks and pushes me around intentionally. Clearly this is their game plan. Destabilize the Knights most important player and not let him have an impact on the game.
Every time I get a pass, two opponents are on me at once. When I try to dribble, they do their best to trip me. Javier is clearly egging his team mates on to attack me, and more than once I see him smirking, self-satisfied, happy that the plan is working.
Memories of the World Cup Final flash in my mind—Javier playing mind games and provoking violence. My resolution grows strong and I calm down. Bending down to retie my laces, I pull down my socks and flip up my collar. I'm not taking their shit anymore, I decide. Enough of playing the good boy.
I jog over to Willie. “Cover me when they try to foul me. Don’t let them get near.” H nods.
The next time I get the ball, I race forward at the speed of wind to put it in the goal. I go past one opposition player, then another and another. I’m not thinking, just letting my instincts move me forward. Only two players and the goalkeeper are between me and the goal. I can dribble past them.
Then I decide that would be too much work. Raising my right leg high, I unleash a shot. Even before it goes into the goal I turn, face the bench, spread my arms wide and look Coach Miller right in the eyes. I know it’s a goal even before the ball starts its descent. The roar of crowd that erupts with joy a few seconds later just confirms it.
I can see the headline: Just five minutes before the end of the game, David Adams scores a stunning goal tying things up. My teammates rush forward to congratulate me, to celebrate with me but I’m not smiling. Yet. The match isn’t over and I’m focused only on winning.
“Lucky shot. But you'll lose anyways,” Javier whispers as he jogs by.
“You’ll see,” I smirk.
“That’s what your mother said last night when she…” Javier makes a sexual gesture, implying David’s mother did unthinkable things to him.
I just smile.
“Save it, Javier. It's not going to work again. Focus on playing well instead, because so far, you've sucked. That goal you scored was a fluke and you know it.”
Javier’s face immediately goes sour. I chuckle, seeing Javier so bothered by critique.
Now that I’ve scored a goal, the opposition puts more players on me. I can’t even touch the ball without a Miami player breathing down my neck. I have to trick them. I whisper something to Willie and ask him to shadow me again.
Next time a pass comes to me, I run toward the ball as if I’m going to take it, but instead I let it run through my legs so that it’ll reach Willie instead, who’s doing as instructed. Much to the opposition’s surprise, I sprint beyond everyone else who all have their eyes focused on the ball at Willie’s feet.
Willie makes a long pass right to me, when I’m already much closer to the goal than anyone expects. With barely half a minute on the clock, this is my glory moment. All that I’ve fought for, my chance to make all the wrongs right. As I lift my leg to take the shot, someone crashes into me. For a moment I see stars and once I regain my senses and get up, Javier is staring in his face.
“Pussy,” Javier says, but I just smirk. The referee awarded a foul and a free kick barely twenty yards away from the Miami goal. If there’s a chance for the Knights to win, it’s right now.
“You're a has-been. You're going down.”
“And you're a bully who has no power over anybody. So piss off, mate.”
Something snaps inside of Javier and he tries to punch me but I quickly duck. By now the referee’s seen it all and in one quick moment, he throws Javier out of the game. Javier shouts and kicks as a couple of his team mates drag him off the field so the game can go on.
How the tables have turned… The crowd boos him and Javier himself knows that he’s thoroughly disgra
ced himself.
But it’s not over. With seconds to go before the end, I have a single chance to win this for Anaheim, for myself and for those who love me. I step up to the ball, look at all the players between me and the goal. I close my eyes, and think back to my childhood when all I wanted to do was play soccer. This is what I’ve dreamed of all my life. Of being here, of being the savior in the dying moments of a match. Of being the hero everyone loves.
The referee blows the whistle and signals for me to take the free kick. On another day, I’d’ve decided in advance where I was going to hit the ball but this time I don't. Once again, he let instinct take over.
The ball goes up, a shining sun in the background, way beyond the vertical reach of the opposition players. And then, it starts drifting down. The goalkeeper stretches his six-foot frame all the way. Everyone in the stadium holds their breath for a timeless moment, and then, everything erupts.
The goalkeeper manages to reach the ball, it grazes his finger, but it isn’t enough. With six seconds to go in the cup final, the winning goal for Anaheim Knights is in the net.
My second goal of the game.
As I see the net ruffle, I turn around and rush to celebrate. Running past my team mates, past the coaching staff on the bench, I jump over the advertisement boards that separate the fans from the field. I know where she is. I don’t have to struggle to find her.
I lift Carrie up in my arms and kiss her. I don't care if the world is watching. This moment of redemption is the greatest moment of my life and I just have to share it with the one I love. Nothing exists for me in that moment except Carrie. Our image flashes over the Jumbotron and the whole stadium applauds.
I can feel Carrie getting self-conscious so I pull away.
“I told you I’d score one for you,”I say to her.
“And Daddy, you scored one for me too,” Harry says, tugging at my shirt.
“Of course, my lad. I did. I’d do anything for you two,” I smile, but tears threaten to fill my eyes.
