Good thing they’d practiced set pieces.
“Jamie!”
She glanced over at the sidelines, and Jo was pointing at her. Then the coach flashed three fingers, and Jamie nodded.
The referee was spraying her magic line spray as Jamie jogged up. Heart pounding in her ears, Jamie waited until the ref was done to set the ball on the turf, rotating it backward half a spin the way she always did. Then she positioned her left foot beside the ball, took two and a half steps back on a slight angle, and waited.
It was only a free kick, and this was just another soccer game, she told herself. She’d played this sport her entire life, sacrificed for it, worked her butt off for it, traveled around the world and back to play it. This game had made her stronger than she’d ever thought she could be, had wrung emotions from her she would have preferred never to experience—loss and disappointment and failure—and given her the best moments of her life. Soccer had given her Britt and Angie and Lisa and Rebecca, Ellie and Maddie and even Phoebe Banks. Most of all, soccer had given her herself—and Emma. Because of this game, she had met the love of her life, lost her, and found her all over again.
While the referee lectured both teams in the center of the box, Jamie glanced back to where Emma and Lisa stood a quarter of the way down the field, waiting for the ball to pop out. As if she felt Jamie’s gaze, Emma looked over. Their eyes caught and held, and then Emma gave her a small nod. You got this. Jamie nodded back. I do. And she did, because she had trained for this play in the Northern California rain, in the Southern California sun, in the Florida humidity, in the London snow. She had practiced crosses with school teams, club teams, pro teams, and the national team. She had prepared for this game as much as any human being could, and now, yeah, she totally had this.
By the time the referee finally blew her whistle to resume play, Jamie’s heartbeat had steadied, her breathing calmed. She took a long look at where everyone was lined up in the penalty box, lifted her arm, and struck the ball low toward the near post. Taylor faked one way and then moved to meet the ball, flicking it with her back heel toward the six the way they had practiced for what had felt like hours the previous day. Jamie, moving to get a better line of sight, gasped as the flick deflected off Taylor’s defender and popped into the middle of the six yard box. Jenny narrowly missed it, but once again Ellie was in the right spot at the right time. She caught the ball on a half-volley and redirected it toward the corner. She had done it. She had actually scored again!
The ball had barely gone in when Ellie started sprinting toward the same exact corner as before, her finger raised on one hand, her face contorted in joy.
“Fuck, yeah!” Jamie shouted, and ran to meet her.
Ellie picked her up and spun her around. “Fuck, yeah!” she echoed. And then she all but thrust Jamie aside and kept running, less of a sprint this time and more of a purposeful run toward the US bench on the other side of the field. Jamie followed her, and so did Angie and Jenny and the rest of the starters. Adrenaline carried them across the field, and within seconds they were gathered on the sideline in a full team celebration. Even Phoebe was there, embracing Ellie and pounding her on the back. In the chaos, Emma hugged Jamie against her, laughing and shouting with the rest of the team. Jamie wasn’t sure what anyone was saying, though. The sound of the madly cheering crowd was overpowering.
About that best moment ever? This one just might cancel it out.
While the Americans celebrated, Japan’s starters gathered at the edge of the center circle for a team huddle. Jamie had no idea what they said, either, but whatever they did to refocus seemed to work. Within moments of kicking off, Japan’s star midfielder Ichika Yamamoto had her first shot on goal. Phoebe corralled it easily, but the shot was a reminder that Japan wasn’t going away. They were a world class team, and a two-goal lead could be lost as quickly as it had been gained.
Jamie settled in, tracking Yamamoto and positioning herself where she could best support Maddie’s offensive runs while assisting the back line defensively. Over the next few minutes, Japan and the US traded possession. Every time the American players drove into their offensive end, the crowd roared as if a goal were imminent. Honestly, Jamie couldn’t blame them. She sort of felt that way herself. Buoyed by the adrenaline borne of scoring twice in less than five minutes, she and her teammates kept up their high press, forcing turnover after turnover. But Japan had regained their composure and shut down each US foray. They were known for their patience in building out of the back, and in the twelfth minute, Japan created their best chance yet. But Phoebe again handled the dangerous cross easily, and then it was the US team’s turn to build an attack.
Thirty seconds later, Ellie dumped a Japanese defender near their box, ending a promising chance. Japan took the free kick quickly and changed fields, working up their left flank. But at midfield, Jamie read the upcoming pass and stepped in front of Yamamoto to steal the ball back. Taylor immediately broke up the flank, and Jamie hit her on the run. Taylor took three touches and then crossed the ball toward the opposite side of the 18, aiming for a sprinting Jenny. The cross wasn’t quite high enough, though, and Jenny’s defender had the inside angle on the ball. But the shadows from the Jumbotron on that section of the field were horrendous, and Jamie could see the defender struggling to find the ball in the sunlight. She tried to clear it away, but her header popped straight up in the air—and came down directly in Maddie’s path. Maddie didn’t wait for it to bounce, simply took the full volley on her laces and buried it past Kimura’s outstretched hand.
Holy shit, Jamie thought, her grin impossibly wide as she stood, stunned, at the center of the field. What was this, even? They had scored AGAIN. The World Cup final wasn’t even a quarter of an hour old, and somehow the US had already scored three times.
The crowd erupted as Maddie turned, her hands upraised triumphantly, and jogged toward the sideline, looking more stunned than anything. She slapped hands with Jenny and Ellie as she ran, and then Angie appeared in front of her and Maddie finally broke into a smile. She opened her arms and Angie jumped into them, practically knocking her over. They were laughing when Jamie reached them, and then the rest of the team crowded around to congratulate Maddie and bask in the unreality of being up 3-0 less than 14 minutes into the World Cup final.
The crowd was still cheering a minute and a half later when Japan tried another odd little flick in the mid third that Maddie knocked away, sending it into Ellie’s path. Ellie touched the ball past her defender, took one look up the field, and launched the ball from the center line toward the Japanese goal. Because, you know, why the hell not? Kimura, who was playing well off her line sweeper-keeper style, back-pedaled furiously. But the lofted ball passed in and out of the Jumbotron’s shadow, and Kimura seemed to lose it in the sunlight. At the last minute she appeared to recover, but then she slipped and stumbled on the turf, falling just as the ball reached her. Jamie couldn’t believe it when Ellie’s shot bounced off Kimura’s fingertips, smacked against the inside of the goal post, and went in for goal number four.
Judging from her incredulous smile, Ellie couldn’t believe it either as she ran back toward the American goal, shaking her head and pointing her fingers at the sky. The crowd’s reaction was even louder than before, if possible, as Phoebe ran to meet her, crushing Ellie in her strong arms and shouting something Jamie couldn’t hear. But she could guess. Ellie’s ridiculous performance was almost guaranteeing that the co-captains, the two oldest players on the roster, would be standing on top of the podium in a little over an hour.
But again, there was a lot of time left, Jamie thought as they lined up for the fifth Japanese kickoff of the half. No need to get ahead of themselves. Or was there? Seriously, how could Japan come back from this?
“Keep pressing!” Jo yelled from the sideline. “Don’t let down!”
They didn’t. Less than a minute later, Ellie narrowly missed another goal with a header that went just wide. She might have a hat tri
ck already, but she clearly had no intention of letting off the gas. Japan continued to try to slow down the pace of the game, to possess and build, but the American pressure made it difficult for them to execute the game plan that had made Japan one of the best teams in the world. Off a turnover, Jenny dribbled into the box, cut around two defenders, and rocketed a shot on goal, but Kimura made a big save. Jenny visibly expelled a frustrated breath before turning away, and Jamie couldn’t help thinking that was pretty much how Jenny’s entire World Cup had gone.
Japan wasn’t letting off the gas, either. Their refusal to go away became obvious when a series of pinpoint passes culminated in a cross into the US box intended for Yamamoto. Taylor had waved Jamie off, so she was at the top of the box when the ball came in. She watched in alarm as Taylor dove for the cross—and missed. Before Jamie could track back, Yamamoto turned and coolly fired the ball past Phoebe.
FUCK. That was why defenders were told to stay on their feet—you couldn’t defend from the ground. The one thing they had to do was not let Japan back into the game. Instead, they’d given up their first goal since the opening match against Australia. More than five hundred minutes of accumulated shutout time down the drain, just like that.
Jamie was too pissed to console an obviously distraught Taylor, but Emma and Lisa picked her up and dusted her off while Jamie brought the ball up to Ellie.
“We’re fine,” Ellie told her. “We just need to keep pushing forward.”
Jamie nodded. “Let’s go.”
They didn’t go. Japan had finally found their form, and two minutes later, they created another strong chance inside the US box. Fortunately, Phoebe shut this one down. The US got their own chance a few minutes later, and the end-to-end nature of the game continued. It felt more like a 0-0 match than a blowout, Jamie thought when Gabe was called for a ticky tack foul shortly after Ellie had been dumped on a no-call, and turned to practically shout at the ref. The fans booed and whistled too, and then broke into a “U-S-A” chant. Despite the score, everyone was still into the match.
The intensity remained right up until halftime. When the whistle blew, the Japanese players jogged off the field as if they weren’t actually down by three. Jamie followed her teammates toward the tunnel, scanning the crowd as she went. A sign caught her eye as she left the stadium—“The USA Strikes Back.” Sounded about right. But she pushed down the giddiness trying to hijack her brain. There was still an entire half to be played, and if the US could score four goals in a half, Japan probably could, too. At least, in theory.
Britt caught up to her in the tunnel and slung an arm around her neck. “Holy goals, Batman! Can you believe this?”
Angie burrowed between them. “Oh my god, right?”
Jamie allowed herself a grin and a vehement, “Hells yeah!” They were up 4-1 at halftime of the World Cup. Surely they could celebrate a little, couldn’t they?
In the locker room, a couple of other players were laughing and joking, too, until Phoebe slammed her gloved hand into a locker with a resounding metallic thunk.
Beside her, Ellie leveled a glare at the room. “This game is not over,” she said into the sudden silence. “There are forty-five more minutes to play, and Japan’s not going anywhere. Let’s focus, okay?”
“Okay, athletes,” Jo said, picking up from Ellie. “As your captains have noted, we have forty-five more minutes to play, and Japan is a quality side—as I think some of you recall more than others.”
At this, Jamie saw Maddie, Ellie, Phoebe, Emma, and a few other veterans grimace. No doubt they were remembering the previous World Cup final when Japan had come back again and again only to win on penalties.
“So let’s talk,” Jo continued. “First on the list of what’s working is the way we started. Four goals in the first half of a World Cup final ain’t half bad, my friends. The same goes for your hat trick, Ellie.” She nodded as Maddie whistled shrilly with her fingers and Ellie just shook her head. “Everyone out there took their performance against Germany and improved on it, just as we challenged you to do. At least, at the outset. That brings me to what isn’t working. Midway through the half, we lost momentum and stopped pressing. In the second half, we need to regain our shape and work on transitioning with numbers.”
Jo turned to the whiteboard and used the player magnets to talk tactics for the next few minutes, stressing the changes Japan had made to their line-up thirty minutes in and the more offensive shape the substitutions had given them. Then she turned back to the players and paused, looking around the room.
“This tournament is inherently a challenge in and of itself. We’ve traveled thousands of miles to play seven games in a little over a month—on turf—while our critics found fault with every little thing, as if they expect us to be perfect. Well, perfection is not real life. But you? You are real, and you have risen above the challenges we’ve faced every step of the way. Today is the culmination of everything we’ve been working for. Your final challenge in this World Cup is to stay focused in the second half and bring us home.” She glanced around the room. “What do you say, athletes? Think you can do that?”
“Yes!” the players chorused. Hell yes.
Jo nodded. “Good. Then get back out there as soon as you’re ready. We have forty-five more minutes left in this World Cup. Let’s make every one of them count.”
Jamie used the restroom and headed back out the tunnel, visualizing herself defending beautifully, passing precisely, and even scoring. Emma had walked out before her and was chatting with Mel on the sideline when Jamie got there.
“Hey, Blake. Wanna pass?” Jamie asked, half-smiling at her.
Emma smiled back. “Absolutely. Just give me a sec.”
Jamie grabbed a ball and juggled until Emma joined her. Then they passed the ball wordlessly, back and forth one-touch, the rhythm and familiarity settling Jamie’s second half butterflies.
“Remember the first time we ever did this?” Emma asked.
Jamie looked up at her, one foot on the ball. The first time they’d trained together had been in Seattle the week after Emma’s dad died. Her extended family had come for the funeral, as had Jamie, and one morning Emma had asked if they could run away. They couldn’t, of course, so instead they’d gone for a run and kicked a ball around.
“Did you think then that we’d end up here?” Jamie asked, holding Emma’s gaze.
“No,” Emma said, and then added before Jamie could respond, “I knew we would.” And she winked.
Sassy Emma was so hot, Jamie thought, laughing.
Chapter Seventeen
Jamie jumped in place, waiting for the fourth official to send in the signal. Finally the head referee blew her whistle, and the second half was on.
The US kicked off. Almost immediately they found themselves with a chance on goal as Taylor sent a long ball to Ellie and she nearly scored again from a crazy angle. Obviously they were taking Jo’s message to heart.
Off the goal kick, Jenny and Gabe combined to create another chance, this time for Maddie. But the Japanese defenders smothered the cross and tried to build up. The American side kept pressing high, though, and soon they’d earned another chance. Kimura made the save, but Japan was scrambling. They’d come out on their heels, or maybe it was just that the US was starting the second half the way they’d begun the first. There wasn’t anything Japan could do but try to survive and wait for the momentum to shift.
Four minutes in, Jamie saw her first real chance of the game. She and Angie did a give and go on the right flank, with Jamie overlapping on the inside, when Ellie cheated over. Jamie saw her coming and sent a through ball to the corner. Ellie caught up to it just before it went out. She could have crossed the ball in, but instead she turned toward goal and took on the nearest defender. Because when you had already scored a hat trick, why not try for more. She stutter stepped and executed a perfect scissor fake past the frozen defender, only to be met by a double team. Changing directions, she dribbled toward the corner of
the eighteen and squared up for a shot. At the last second, she touched the ball with the outside of her foot back toward where Jamie was waiting at the top of the box.
It was a perfectly weighted pass, smooth and slow enough that Jamie had plenty of time to set up. The sounds in the stadium faded away, and her vision narrowed to the oncoming ball. She wound up and struck the center of the ball with the laces of her left boot, feeling the solidness of the strike resonate satisfyingly throughout her body. She watched, hardly breathing, as the ball lifted over the nearest defender, headed unerringly for the upper corner of the goal. At the last minute, Kimura leapt and managed to get one hand up in time to knock the ball up and over the crossbar.
“Ahh!” Jamie groaned to herself, holding her hands to her head. But she was smiling because that shot had felt awesome, and she was pretty sure she had more where it came from.
Ellie slapped her on the shoulder. “Keep ’em coming, kid.”
If she did manage to score in the World Cup, would everyone please stop calling her kid? Yeah, probably not.
Momentum could be fickle, though, and a game could hinge on a single play—if you let it. A minute and a half later, Taylor O’Brien dumped one of the Japanese strikers in the US defensive third, giving Japan their first dangerous set piece of the half. The defense held the line at the eighteen, where the shadow from the Jumbotron meant Phoebe was looking directly into the sunlight. Jamie glued herself to Yamamoto. The hell if she was giving up her mark again. Taylor didn’t argue, just found another Japanese player to mark.
Later, Jamie wondered what would have happened if she had let Taylor take Yamamoto. The younger woman would have been in an entirely different position in the box, and maybe then she wouldn’t have leapt to head the inswinging ball out and instead flicked it into her own goal. But either way, what was done was done, and though Phoebe and Emma both scrambled to block the mishit, the ball trickled into the side netting anyway. Taylor, who the press had deemed the breakout star of the Cup, had just scored an own goal.
Girls of Summer Page 24
