Falling in Love

by Stephen Bradlee

  Christine kicked the ball to me. I tried to pass it to Paula but missed her. It wasn’t a great beginning but it did feel good to be back on the field. I tried to figure out where I had seen the leggy blonde before. I was absolutely sure that she had never been to Rosebud.

  Since the other two girls didn’t show up, Paula, who turned out to be the coach, decided not to scrimmage. I was grateful. Every time I made a good move it seemed that one minute later, I messed up. I told myself that I was just rusty but I knew it was more than that. The other players were out of my class. They had all not only played in college or higher but now played together as a unit, especially Paula and Christine. I was playing by myself and was glad when practice was over.

  As they lined up for wind sprints, Paula motioned for me to come near her. She was standing next to the leggy blonde whose name was Darcy and who was one of the best players, although I still didn’t recognize her.

  Paula said, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant. I knew I couldn’t compete with them at soccer but I did think that I might be able to hold my own in sprints. I had always been the fastest player on the field. But that was junior high school. We had all matured since then. I decided that no matter how great these women were, I wasn’t going to finish last.

  Paula yelled “Go,” and they all took off like rockets. I wasn’t wearing cleats and slipped badly and almost fell. I regained my footing and tried to catch up, making it into the middle of the pack. Up front, Paula was edging pass Darcy into the lead when Darcy elbowed her, knocking Paula off stride and Darcy won.

  “You are so bad,” said Paula, breathing heavily.

  Darcy smiled sweetly. “It’s just soccer.”

  Then we raced back to the other goal. I got a good jump and stayed a step behind Paula and Darcy, running as hard as I could. I waited for them to pull away and when they didn’t I realized that I might just be able to beat them. I pumped my legs harder and came up beside Darcy who didn’t see me because she was eying Paula. I kept trying to pass her but she was too fast. I got mad. I had never lost a race in my life. Maybe I couldn’t beat her but I was going to let her know I on her other side. I pushed myself beyond endurance and began edging ahead. She glanced at me, looking stunned as I started to pull away. I heard the others behind cheering.

  “Go, New Girl!”

  “Kick their buns, Newbie.”

  I beat Paula by three yards and Darcy by four. I gasped hard for air, feeling like my lungs were going to explode. But I was ecstatic. I was still the fastest on the field. The others came up and slapped me and patted me in congratulations. Paula was smiling broadly. Only Darcy looked like she wanted a loaded gun. As Christine slapped my back, she laughed. “I believe we have a new set of wheels.”

  Paula came over. “We practice on Tuesdays and Thursday. Games are on Saturdays.

  I was shocked that she was inviting me back. “Really?”

  Paula laughed. “Really.”

  “Sure. Great,” I said. I knew I wouldn’t make it to the first game but at that moment, I didn’t care. No matter what happened, forever I would be able to say that I had walked onto the same field as Paula Harper, twice!

  I had to tell someone. The only soccer players I knew were in Rosebud. They were out. Paul was also out of the question.

  I phoned Dede, who was on her way to drinks with a friend and offered to have me join them. She was eating a carrot as she walked. “Do you know Paula Harper?”

  “Not personally, no.” Crunch. “I know of her, of course.” Crunch.

  Of course. “She was doing windsprints today. I ran with her, and beat her.”

  “What?” The crunching stopped. “That’s fantastic! Her whole thing is speed. You know that? Did she ask you to play for her? She has a team in the Central Park League? You played soccer, right?”

  “A little, but I don’t have the time.”

  “Come on. Do it! That would be so cool!”

  “I’ve got to go.” I had gotten to brag. Now I didn’t want questions about why I was kicked off the team.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Dede promised. “You can tell me all about it.” She laughed. “I’m telling everyone I know that my sister outran Paula Harper.”

  At the next practice, there were enough players to scrimmage. I played badly, mostly because I rarely passed. When I got the ball, I dribbled until I got a shot or an easy pass. My only saving grace was a long goal that probably just shocked the goalkeeper because she didn’t think anyone would be crazy enough to try to score from that far out.

  After practice, Paula asked me, “Got time for a drink?”

  Since we both lived in Greenwich Village, she took me to Callahan’s, a sports bar. I didn’t remember ever being there before and hoped that I hadn’t, or at least hoped that no one remembered me.

  Paula ordered a single-malt Scotch on the rocks and I had a diet Pepsi, joking, “I’m in training, now.”

  Paula shook her head. “Not on our team. Most of us have spent our lives staying in top condition. Now we play hard and party hard. We aren’t called the Wildcats for nothing.”

  I decided not to tell her about my addiction, considering that I probably wouldn’t make it to the first party.

  After some small talk, Paula got to the point. “Sherry, I want you on this team but you are going to have to work hard.”

  I nodded.

  “First of all, you have to stop trying to score every time you touch the ball. Ever heard of passing?”

  I really hadn’t. In school, I was always the best player so why would I pass to a lesser player. Instead, I always dribbled down the field looking for a clean shot and then took it. Girls called me a ball hog and they were right. But I had to be the top scorer. I had to score the winning goal. Otherwise, I felt worthless. But I couldn’t tell Paula this. Instead, I admitted, “I’m not very good at it.”

  “What? Where did you play? Who was your coach?”

  “I haven’t played since junior high.”

  Paula looked stunned. “You’re kidding? Why?”

  “I had some problems. Some injuries.” This wasn’t exactly a lie.

  “Right. Sherry, injuries last months or forever, not years. You had to work the family farm?” She laughed. “You went to jail? What?”

  “No. No,” I protested.

  “Sherry, it’s none of my business but I was a math minor and something’s not adding up here. You should have gotten a full ride.”

  “You’re kidding?” I had never thought that, had things been different, I might have gotten a college soccer scholarship.

  “You’ve got the talent, kid. But if you try to play solo in this league, you’ll get killed, either by the opposing players or ours. That long shot you made today? Did you see Darcy?” I shook my head. “Wide open. Rita,” she said about the former midfielder who was now their goalkeeper, “was edging toward Darcy because she never dreamed you’d be crazy enough to take a shot instead of passing it. She won’t make that mistake again.”

  Paula swigged her Scotch. “I suppose you know about Christine and I?” I nodded. “Well, Dawn and Rita were both All-Americans. Karen and Jill both got scholarships. And Darcy? Two Hermanns and three NCAA National title teams, mostly because of her, and enough attitude to equal us all. My point is, Sherry, these are not the kind of women who are going to stand around watching you gun when you should be moving the ball. Get it?”

  I was trying to get it but I couldn’t get past being overwhelmed by hearing about the incredible talent on this team. What was I doing there? I whispered, “You must rule the League.”

  Paula smiled wanly. “Second, three years in a row. Unfortunately, the Banshees are also stacked with talent. We’ve never beaten them. Hell, we’ve never even tied them. Just lost about every match by one point. Even worse, this year they stole Rachel, our goalkeeper. But I’m hoping that you might make up the difference. Our hot rookie.”

  Me? She was talki
ng about me? I was too scared to death to be flattered. I was also way too self-destructive to handle that kind of pressure. I already felt anguished for letting Paula down and I hadn’t even done it yet.

  Suddenly, Paula laughed. “I got it. I knew this girl at UNC. She didn’t play in high school either, walked on as a freshman and had a full ride by her sophomore year. She was a nun who quit the night before taking her vows. Was that you? A novitiate?”

  I burst out laughing. I thought I’d been accused of about everything but never of being a sister. “No,” I said. “I was never a nun.”

  Paula smiled. “I’ll figure it out one day.” She motioned for the check, then turned to me. “Just for the record. When I was twenty-five, I’d have given you a hell of race.” She drained her Scotch and sighed, “But those days are gone forever.”

  Before the next practice, Darcy, the blonde with the awesome legs, was laughing with Rita, until Paula said, “Darcy, I want you to practice passing with Sherry.”

  Darcy whipped around, gave me a lethal look and then stared at Paula. She spat, “Me?” I didn’t know who she thought was a better candidate but I suspected it was anyone but her. Unfazed, Paula nodded and began instructing the rest of the team to work one a new “play,” whatever that was.

  If Darcy wasn’t the best passer on the team she had to be a contender and for the next hour and a half, I struggled to return her lightning-fast, deadly-accurate passes, while she continually muttered that I was “pathetic” or “pitiful” or “ridiculous,” and those were just the comments that I heard. After a while, Paula sent over Christine to work with us. I was always in the middle and passing to each of them. Compared to their smooth effortless passes, I was hopeless. Then Paula put us up against two defensive players. We lost the ball more times than not and it was always my fault. After practice, I was waiting for Paula to say, “Thanks but no thanks,” but instead she cheerfully chirped, “See you, Thursday.”

  What was wrong with her? Ask Darcy, Paula. I’m hopeless! I thought about quitting on my own but I really loved being on a soccer field again. I figured it wouldn’t be long before she gave up on me so what difference did it make? I was confident that I would be gone before the first game. Otherwise, playing in a game would surely end in disaster.

  On Thursday, while lacing up her cleats, Darcy glanced at Paula, “Do I have to babysit the newbie again?”

  Paula gave her an icy stare. “Yes.”

  I didn’t want to cause trouble but didn’t think it was fair to Darcy. “Look, I—.”

  Paula shot me a hard glance. I had already learned that this team was not a democracy. Paula’s word was law.

  Darcy and I headed to a flat meadow near the field. Immediately, Darcy kicked a ball so far out in front of me that I had no hope of getting to it. But I dug in and ran faster than I thought I could. Unbelievably, I managed to get to the ball and flip it back toward her. It was a lame pass but it didn’t matter. Darcy wasn’t even running. She was just standing there staring at me. Then she smiled and nodded. I realized that she hadn’t expected me even get to the ball.

  From then on she fired passes at me that were just barely out of my reach, continually stretching me. Occasionally, she would stop me to give me tips and tricks. Her tone was as if she was talking to a hopeless five-year-old but her advice was pure gold. I had read soccer technique books as a kid but they were a joke compared to Darcy. She was a master passer sharing her expertise. But then a few minutes later, she would seethe that I wasn’t learning quickly enough. Finally, she stopped me and snapped, “You think you can ever do that?”

  The team was practicing passing drills, dribbling and passing at full speed. I stared in awe at how fast they moved the ball. I had never seen anything like it except maybe a fast break in a basketball game. “No,” I admitted. There was no way I would ever be able to do that.

  “Well, you’ll have to if you want to play on this team. Paula’s theory is that no defender can outrun you if they are backpedalling or looking over their shoulder. So you blow by, through, over or under them to get that shot. Paula is the ultimate speed queen,” she added sarcastically.

  Despite continually losing her patience, Darcy showed me over and over again the same masterful techniques and I pitifully tried to learn them. By the end of the practice, we finally got into some sort of rhythm and I started feeling like I wasn’t completely useless.

  But like every other time in my life, a good feeling didn’t last long. The next practice, Paula put us up against Karen and Jill, two top defenders, and I constantly kept losing the ball as Darcy screamed at me that I had forgotten what she had taught me. I hadn’t forgotten. I just couldn’t do it.

  “This is ridiculous. The kid’s hopeless,” she screamed and walked away.

  I agreed with her and headed off to get my bag. But Paula stopped practice and called the defenders and me onto the main field where she took Darcy’s part. Paula dribbled toward the goal as the defenders edged nearer to me. Instead of passing, Paula dribbled past them and scored. She did same thing again and when they were forced to cover her, Paula got a pass to me in front of a nearly open net and I scored! Paula smiled. Darcy looked like she wanted to kill me. We attacked ten more times and even though I lost the ball twice and missed a goal, I did manage to score two more goals while Paula scored four.

  Paula turned to Darcy. “Try it again.”

  As we walked back toward the meadow, Darcy was seething and Karen and Jill were laughing, despite just getting their tails whipped. Jill whispered to me, “Darcy hates it when Paula is right.”

  I was fairly sure that Darcy was actually right but we got through the practice without me embarrassing myself too much. As I walked off the field about the only thing I was certain of was that Darcy loathed me and would probably never speak to me again. But, of course, I was even wrong about that.

  The Wednesday before the first game, I was about to rush up to the managing partner’s office with some important documents when I saw the third line on my phone ringing, which meant it was for me. Since it was probably just Elaine, I decided to call her back. But Adam hadn’t noticed that it wasn’t for him. When I returned he informed me, “Darcy Marsh called. She wanted to try some extra practice this afternoon. I told her that if you didn’t already have plans, I had no problem with you leaving early and getting to the park by five.” I was in shock! There had to be a mistake! Darcy wanted to practice with me? Adam mentioned, “I didn’t know you played soccer.”

  “It’s just a park league,” I stammered. “Nothing really.”

  Adam laughed. “If you’re playing with Darcy, it’s pretty big time.”

  “You know her?”

  He nodded. “My daughters adore her. One of the highlights of their lives was when I invited Darcy out to Greenwich for the weekend and they got to see their mother go one-on-one with her. Darcy got the best of Lisa but not before she showed Darcy, and her daughters, that if she hadn’t gone the academic route, she could have made some waves in the soccer world.” I was still lost at how he knew Darcy. “We work with her. You don’t know what Darcy does?”

  I shook my head.

  “Sometimes you can close a billion-dollar merger by stroking the top execs egos with a relatively cheap kicker, like throwing in a corporate apartment. If you’re looking for a New York penthouse, the one to see is Darcy Marsh. She’ll be around. I promise you.”

  Scared that I was going to qualify for the Guinness Book of Records in making a fool of myself, I asked Adam if I could leave even earlier to practice a little. Sweet man that he was, he agreed.

  When I arrived at the park, Darcy was already there and already furious, but not at me. “I forgot my knee brace,” she fumed. “I never forget it but I washed the damn thing last night.” She glanced over at a Central Park West high rise, and then said, “Oh, hell, let’s try it.”

  For the next hour, Darcy passed faster than I could handle but then Darcy and my feet got into a rhythm and I began ge
tting the ball back to her fairly quickly. But as she bent the ball around an imaginary goalkeeper, Darcy winched in pain, fell to the ground and clutched her knee.

  “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it,” she kept muttering. She looked up. “I’m sorry, Kid.”

  Darcy tried to get up but was falling back down when I grabbed her, heaved her arm over my shoulder and wrapped my other arm around her waist. “Mind if we walk like this?” she asked. “I would rather that someone thought I was drunk or gay than injured. These trees have eyes.”

  “Sure,” I smiled. If Darcy only how many times I’d walked like this, both drunk and gay!

  She managed to limp over to an elegant limestone skyscraper where the immaculately-tailored doorman in a long formal coat helped her across the stately marble floor to a brass-door elevator that zoomed us up to Darcy’s high floor. Inside her incredible apartment, Darcy hopped around her kitchen as I entered the expansive drawing room with lovely but comfortable-looking antiques arranged near an ornate fireplace. “What do you want to drink?” she asked.

  “Water,” I whispered, as I stood stunned. The large picture window framed the gloriously vivid colors of Central Park below. “Can I get it?”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just damn angry at myself. I’ve got to stop doing too much.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Except I may not even be in New York. Christ! What am I going to do?”

  “You’re moving?”

  She hopped toward me with a cold pack and two bottled waters. “Maybe.”

  “Does Paula know?”

  Darcy tossed me a bottle, then plopped onto the sofa and set the cold pack on her knee. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She stretched out her leg and winced in pain, crying out, “Fuck!” Darcy looked up. “Listen, Kid. Would you mind getting me a couple of things?”

  I was soon sailing around her apartment getting her cell phone, some painkillers, other pills and some pillows as Darcy moaned softly. But whenever I entered a room I had to pause to admire its sheer beauty. Each room’s furnishings, plants, paintings, pictures and breathtaking Central Park views amalgamated into an awesome scene. I had never seen anything like it. Every room looked like it could be in a magazine and I suspected that each one probably was, more than once.