Playing the Game

by Graysen Morgen

  “Rojas, warm up!” the assistant coach said.

  Randi gave her a thumbs up and got up. “Son of a bitch. She’s really going to put me in with fifteen minutes left?”

  “There will probably be some extra time,” Carrie said.

  “Yeah, two minutes,” Randi huffed before jogging off to go through the rigorous routine to warm up her legs.

  Carrie continued watching the game with the rest of the team on the bench, periodically glancing at Randi who was down near the other end of the stadium. When she finally jogged back by, she stood next to the assistant referee, who was holding up the board with the number for the player coming off the field lit up in red, and Randi’s number lit up in green.

  The worn-out player smacked Randi’s hands, then she took off running out to her position. There were only ten minutes left in regular time, but with fresh legs, Randi was running all over the field. She quickly passed the ball wide to the midfielder who was running along the sideline with plenty of space. The Mexican defender caught up to her, but not before the midfielder got a cross off in front of the goal. Randi stretched her foot out, touching the ball enough to send it away from the keeper and into the back of the net. A few nearby players rushed over, hugging her before they regrouped to start play once more.

  Mexican players worked together, passing the ball up the field, but The USA quickly won it back, sending a long ball forward as the assistant ref held up the sign indicating two minutes of stoppage time had been added.

  Randi rushed up the middle but was called offside when a pass was sent to her. Mexico won the ball back, but another USA forward stole the ball and shot it quickly towards the goal. It bounced off the keeper’s gloved hands and right over the net. The USA quickly set up for a corner. Randi was at the top of the box but made a run further in as the ball sailed closer. She dove into the air, turning her head as the ball bounced off her forehead. She fell back onto a Mexican player as the keeper jumped up, too late to stop the ball from going into the net.

  Randi got up from the ground and ran out of the box with her fists pumping the air. Most of the USA players crashed into her in celebration.

  “Hell yeah!” she yelled.

  As soon as they lined up to restart play, the Mexican player kicked the ball and the ref blew the whistle, ending the game. The entire USA team rushed together to celebrate.

  “Damn, girl!” Carrie said, hugging her best friend. “That header was crazy!”

  “I know! I was all twisted around. I was sure it flew into the stands!” she laughed as they went over, shaking hands with the Mexican players and coaches.

  “What a game!” the assistant coach said, hugging Randi. “What’s that…forty goals for you now?”

  “No, more like twenty-eight or maybe thirty,” she replied, “but I think it was my thirtieth cap.”

  “You’ve got me beat,” Carrie said as the assistant coach walked away to talk to another player. “I have nineteen goals and twenty-six caps.”

  “You know I don’t care about the numbers. Give me the golden boot in the world cup,” Randi said.

  *

  Berkley wiped sweat from her brow before it ran down into her eyes. The PT exam had consisted of a two-mile run, and a 150lb dummy pull or carry for fifteen feet. It finished with an obstacle course in full tactical gear, while also shooting at targets that popped out. She had no idea how she’d done, but she was exhausted.

  “Your score is a tally of points from your run time, dummy time, and obstacle time. Plus, the number of targets you hit. Fifty is the highest score possible. Forty is the lowest score to pass,” Sergeant Jones said. “How do you think you did?”

  “Honestly, no idea.”

  “You got a forty-eight. That’s damn impressive. I didn’t even score that high,” he said. “You beat me by a point. The average is forty-three.”

  “Wow,” she uttered, slightly shocked that she’d done so well.

  “We’re all done here. I’ll get this turned in, and depending on how your psych eval went, you’ll hopefully be joining us soon.”

  “Looking forward to it,” she said, shaking his hand. As soon as she was in her truck, she dialed Garrett on her phone.

  “How’d it go?” he asked as he answered.

  “Pretty damn good. I scored higher than Jones on the PT!”

  “Get out…really? He’s built like a brick shit house! But, so are you.”

  “And you,” she said as she turned on the Bluetooth and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “True.”

  “Anyway, I think he was smaller back then. He’s been on SWAT for a while. I bet he’d get a perfect score if he took it right now though.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he would.”

  “Man, I’m exhausted…mentally and physically. I need to go to bed.”

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

  *

  “Welcome back,” MJ said, looking at Carrie and Randi. “You made it just in time for our last practice before we travel to Seattle. That was a hell of a header, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Randi smiled. Their return flight had been early in the morning, giving them enough time to regroup before meeting up with their club team for practice later that day.

  “Today we’re going to run through a tournament of small side games, starting with 3V3 and moving up to 6V6 with keepers. The players on the losing teams get dispersed and added to the winning teams each round. I’ve already assigned the first set of teams, so grab the color penny that you need and head out to the practice field. We’ll go through our regular warm-up and get the ball rolling,” he said.

  “This already sounds like more fun,” Randi said, picking a pink penny from the box.

  “Right. And…I get to play too,” Carrie agreed, grabbing a yellow one. “Ohhh…looks like we’re enemies,” she teased.

  “May the best bitch win.” Randi grinned.

  Carrie laughed and pushed her in the direction of the doorway where everyone was exiting.

  *

  The first few games went by quickly because they ended when a team scored. After 3V3, they moved to 4v4, then 5V5. That’s when Carrie and Randi wound up going head to head because both the pink and yellow teams hadn’t lost a game. They were the final two teams in the 6V6 game. MJ blew the whistle to start play and Carrie kicked the ball wide to Jorja, who started up the field with it. A defender caught up to her and they battled until the ball went out. Jorja restarted play, throwing it in to Carrie who took a shot. The backup keeper jumped up, catching it easily, before sending it back down the field.

  Sasha headed it in the middle of the small field, and the ball sailed up to Randi, but the defender went for the ball at the same time, connecting her knee with Randi’s thigh instead. Randi immediately went to the ground, writhing in pain. Sasha began running towards her, but Olivia was much closer.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, kneeling next to her.

  “My quad feels like it’s burning,” Randi winced.

  “Aw, man,” the defender said. “I’m sorry, Randi. It didn’t feel like that hard of a hit.”

  The entire team rushed over to them, along with the coaches and athletic training staff.

  “Back up. Give her some room,” MJ said. “Everyone, start cooling down.”

  “My quad hurts like hell,” Randi said through clenched teeth.

  Olivia reached out, putting her gloved hand on Randi’s shoulder as the athletic trainer began checking out her injury.

  “Looks like you bruised the muscle. We need to get some cold therapy on it now to prevent swelling. Can you walk on it?” Jason said after finishing his assessment.

  Randi nodded and he and Olivia helped her to her feet. Her leg throbbed, but she got up and walked on her own.

  “I’m going to go cool down. I’ll catch up to you in a bit,” Olivia said, squeezing her shoulder.

  As soon as they entered the building, they b
ypassed the locker room where most of the team was and walked into the recovery room. Randi stripped her penny and practice jersey off and climbed onto a treatment table, sitting with her back against the wall. Jason pushed her foot to her butt, fully flexing her knee. Randi screamed out in pain.

  “Damn, that hurts!” she cried.

  “It’ll help prevent a muscle spasm,” Jason said, placing an ice bag on her thigh. “You know, I can’t say I’m surprised. Your schedule over the past 72 or so hours has been a little hectic, and involved two flights.”

  “I’ve been hit like that a dozen times and never had an injury.”

  “It could’ve been lurking from your game in New Orleans, and the hit you just took made it worse.”

  “It’s extremely hot out there. Are you sure it’s not a cramp?” she said.

  “Does it feel like a cramp?”

  “No,” she sighed.

  “The good news is, it’s a mild quad contusion, not a tear or strain. Cold therapy and rest should have you good as new in a few days, maybe a week.”

  “A week?!” she squeaked.

  “Muscles don’t heal overnight. You know that.”

  “He’s right,” MJ said, coming in to check on her after having a short meeting with the team. “You’re not traveling with us tomorrow. Another flight, especially that far away, and back, will only make your recovery worse. The muscle will get tight and it could take even longer to heal.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Randi uttered, feeling deflated. She hadn’t had an injury in two or three years, at least not one significant enough to keep her completely out of a game. Her team needed her, and she was letting them down.

  “I know it sucks,” he said sympathetically as the team walked in to start their recovery.

  “Let me tell them,” she sighed.

  Nodding, he turned and left the room.

  “Once you’ve iced and stretched your quad, we’ll move you to one of the ice baths to recover your body,” Jason said.

  “So, what’s the verdict?” Sasha asked.

  “No tear, but my quad is bruised. I won’t be traveling to Seattle,” Randi said, looking at her teammates.

  “Oh, man. That sucks,” Jorja said.

  “Sorry,” Carrie said, hugging her.

  “I’m glad it’s not worse,” Olivia whispered, giving her a half hug.

  “Thanks, guys. I’ll be fine. I’ll probably be back to new by the time you get home,” she said as the team separated into two groups and got into the large, waist-deep ice bath pools.

  “We’re going to bring back three points for you!” Sasha yelled. “Good God, this is cold!”

  “You’d think we’d be used to it,” Carrie laughed.

  Randi smiled. She loved this dysfunctional group of women.

  *

  After several minutes of the ice bath, the team left and began showering and going their separate ways. Randi had already moved to the ice bath. Olivia had come in to check on her after her shower and said she would come back to get her, but Carrie had said she’d take her home. She was running some errands close by, and there was no sense in Olivia driving all the way back.

  “Are you doing electrical stimulation too? Doesn’t that help muscles heal?” Randi asked, remembering she’d had it once before for an injury in college.

  “Yes, stimulation does help in some cases, but with a bruise, the muscle is sore and aggravated, which is why we use ice to calm it and try to keep a hematoma from forming. If you hit it with a jolt of electricity, it’s going to get pissed and tighten, possibly even cramp, making it much worse. I know RICE therapy is slow and old school, but with this type of injury, it’s your only option,” he replied.

  Randi grabbed her phone and snapped a selfie for Instagram of her lying on her back on the massage table with an icepack on the leg. Bruised quad. Out for this weekend’s game in Seattle Then, she put her headphones on and began listening to music.

  Moments later, nearly a hundred people had liked her post and twenty had commented, saying they hoped she got better soon. One person said she was only going to the game to see her play.

  Further down the line, her teammates began commenting, saying they were going to get the win and three points for her, and other things like get better soon, and we’ll miss you. Olivia liked the picture and commented: Won’t be the same without you on the field.♥

  Some of her USA teammates also commented, hoping she got better soon.

  Randi liked the first ten or so comments from fans and all the ones from her teammates. She replied to Olivia’s comment with a smiley face.

  A half-hour later, the athletic trainer tapped her shoulder, waking her. Randi pulled her headphones from her ears.

  “Did I fall asleep?” she mumbled.

  “Yep. Must be my healing touch,” he laughed.

  “Yeah, or the exhaustion from this week.”

  “You need to rest your body. Take it easy for the next two days. Continue ice and stretching every few hours and do it for thirty minutes at a time. Stay off of it as much as you can today and tomorrow, then on Sunday, take a short walk, maybe down your street and back every couple of hours. I’ll see you back here on Monday morning, and we’ll see how it’s doing. You can take ibuprofen if it’s hurting, or use some sport cream.”

  “Sounds like a fun weekend,” she sighed. “Am I free to go?” she asked, realizing there was nothing on her leg.

  “Yep. I texted Carrie a few minutes ago. She’s on the way.”

  “What would we do without you?” She smiled, hugging him when she got up. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “That’s because it’s calm and soothed like a baby with a fresh diaper and a belly full of milk.”

  Randi laughed. He and his wife had just had their first baby four months earlier, so his analogy must have been true. She went into the locker room and changed from her practice uniform to a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a white t-shirt. Then, she slipped her snapback on backward and walked out of the practice facility with her gym bag over her shoulder.

  Carrie pulled through the parking lot, coming to a stop in front of her a second later. Randi opened the door and tossed her bag into the backseat before getting in and buckling up.

  “That was quick,” Randi said. “I literally just walked out. Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “No problem,” Carrie replied, leaving the parking lot. “I was over at Anna’s.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Good. Busy as usual. I rarely get to see her anymore.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah. I thought about asking her to move in with me, but I’d really never see her. Out here, she’s closer to the university and the library, which is where she spends all of her time.”

  “I can’t believe she has two more years of law school.”

  “No kidding. Me either. I barely see her now as it is,” Carrie sighed. “How’s your leg?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Feels fine right now, but Jason has been working on it for two hours.”

  “I bruised my calf in a high school game. It hurt like hell. I can’t imagine bruising my quad. That has to be worse.”

  “Oh, trust me, it hurt like a motherfucker when it happened,” Randi said. “It was almost like I got stung by a bee, then someone slapped that spot with a big wooden paddle. The searing pain was insane.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I’d rather get hit with another full force ball to the tits.”

  Carrie laughed.

  “That didn’t hurt. I just couldn’t breathe.”

  “Maybe there is something about you and practice.” Carrie shrugged.

  “I’ve never been hurt in practice, at least not until recently. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “You have a lot going on…whether you want to admit it or not.”

  Randi didn’t comment. She knew Carrie was referring to Berkley. In a way,
she was right. Randi had let things get way out of hand, and it was starting to affect her game.

  “Thanks for driving me,” she said as Carrie pulled into the driveway. “Have fun in Seattle. Kick their asses for me.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Carrie said, hugging her across the console. “Take care of that leg,” she called out the window.

  “I will. I’m not doing anything but resting all weekend,” Randi yelled back with a wave before walking inside.

  “I was about to order Chinese. I know you like that when you don’t feel good,” Olivia said, meeting her at the door. She wrapped her arms around Randi, squeezing her tightly before kissing her briefly, and letting go. “You scared the crap out of me when you went down. I’m glad it’s nothing too serious.”

  “Me too. I still hate missing a game.”

  “I know.”

  “Chinese is fine. Get my usual. I’m going to take a shower,” Randi said as she walked down the hallway.

  29

  Berkley was happy to see six a.m. on her watch. It had been a long week with both of the evaluations in the middle of it. She was looking forward to three days off. After signing off her shift, she headed home, backing her police cruiser into the driveway.

  “How’s it going?” her neighbor asked when she walked down to check her mail.

  “Not bad, you?”

  “Same shit, different day,” he laughed.

  “No kidding.” She smiled and waved as he got into his truck, obviously on his way to work. As she walked back up, she looked around at the yard and sighed. It was in dire need of attention. I know what I’m doing this morning, she thought as she went inside, setting her mail down on the counter on her way to her bedroom.

  It took less than five minutes for her to remove her uniform, store her gun in the drawer next to her bed, and change into an old tank top, shorts, and sneakers. She rummaged through the refrigerator, grabbing the sugar-free strawberry jelly. Then, she opened the pantry and pulled out the peanut butter and bread. “Can’t go wrong with a PB&J,” she said as she began making herself a sandwich. She used only one piece of bread, and a little bit of jelly, then loaded it up with a few helpings of peanut butter, before squeezing it closed like a taco. Red jelly squirted out the backend, onto her hand when she took a Jaws sized bite. She quickly licked it off and went in for another mouthful. By the time she made it outside, the sandwich was gone, along with half a bottle of water.