by Tara Wimble
“She missed you so much that she broke up with Blake the Baker?” Kathryn spells it out. “And then she just moves back to Toronto without warning?”
Her tone says exactly what she thinks. That this isn’t something a friend does. Not even one that’s in an open relationship according to Kathryn’s guesses.
“He did something and she just, this is what she said-” Jacque slumps back in her seat. “-that it felt wrong and she missed me. So she came back to the apartment before Christmas.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah.” Jacque pauses. “It may have gotten awkward when I brought someone home-”
“Jesus Jacque.” Kathryn looks torn over whether she should chide her for cheating or congratulate her on not being a nun.
“I don’t think she expected that.” It’s funnier when she remembers it. At the time it’d just been a bit sexually frustrating and frustrating in general.
“What? For you to have needs?” Kathryn jokes. “Bella has been known to be a bit dense but that’s just ignorant.”
“I think she got that much.” They don’t have to wait much longer for their food to be brought over and then Kathryn grows pensive. “What?”
“You said he did something.” Kathryn reminds her. “What did he do?”
Jacque cuts something on her plate and then puts her knife down. “Um, he tried to-” She’s doing a horrible job of trying not to laugh at this. “-like, go down on her.”
Kathryn’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding me. No. And that’s the thing-”
Jacque is laughing now. Covering her mouth and squinting away the tears that form in her eyes because in hindsight, it’s hilarious. “-that’s the thing that ended it.”
Kathryn giggles. “Man, he must have been bad.”
Jacque picks up her knife again. “Come on, be fair.” She smirks. “He didn’t get that far.”
*
28th July 2012;
Canada v South Africa;
Out of all of the games in the tournament this is the one John told her to expect to get minutes past super sub status.
She gets put in the sixtieth minute and it’s already two to nil off of goals from Oliv and Whemb, she replaces Kathryn and they push into a 4-3-3 with her running down the right flank.
South Africa is gassed by the time she starts causing havoc for them down the side. It feels good to just run and run, cutting in and out, piercing through their defenses. There’s a chance right around the sixty eighth minute when Whemb slots in a beautiful ball right to her feet, she takes a small touch with left foot to round the keeper and drives it home bulging the back of the net.
There’s a moment of shock where she runs frantically away from goal towards Whembs, fingers pointed to the sky, she hugs the person who made the goal possible and then looks up, eyes immediately scanning for the number four.
She endures the hair ruffles and the fist bumps that are more like strikes from her excited teammates but there’s only one person she needs to do this with.
They meet halfway, Bella already sprinting towards the midline and Jacque pointing and pumping her fists excitedly. Jacque almost punches her in the stomach by accident when Bella jumps onto her. She’s swung in unstable arms until Jacque plants her feet back into the ground. Jacque’s hand braces the back of her head.
“I’m so fucking proud of you.” She looks straight into her eyes and whispers excitedly, caught up in the moment.
Bella can’t respond because there’s still twenty minutes to go and they’re being urged to restart play but she reaches back and pulls Jacque’s left hand back, as if to pull her into a short hug, but instead kisses the top of her knuckles.
There’s something for the highlights.
“Defend the line!” Bella jogs backwards.
“Break it!” Jacque’s smile is surprising and genuine.
Whemb adds another goal in the eightieth minute to close things off for good at four to nil but it doesn’t matter because once the final whistle blows she doesn’t even have time to react before Jacque’s picking her up again and suddenly everyone is feeling the joy of the game.
Sadie cups her face while Jacque has her hoisted over her shoulder. “Look at this little first timer!” Carla slaps her back and someone threatens to pick her up as well before she joins Niav at the side.
Jacque shimmies Bella back down and then Sadie is really by her side and clapping a hand on her shoulder. “You realize that if she wasn’t your wife there’d be some serious making out going on right now.”
That appears to be Bella’s cue to follow John to the sideline reporters waiting to grab a comment from her. It’s her first Olympic goal and there’s no words to describe how happy she feels right now.
“-thank god for Whemb is all I can really say.” Bella wipes her damp forehead back into her hair. She’s vainly thinking that this sweaty look isn’t going to be great in HD. “She played a perfect ball and I was just lucky to be there to finish it. Great to score for Canada.”
The mic doesn’t pick up the question posed to her after it but Bella hears it clearly enough. “Yeah, yeah. I mean, I love my team but uh, for my first goal you gotta remember who to celebrate it with and Whemb was there but after that I just ran to Jacque- Liresch.” She clarifies. “Because there’s no one you really wanna share this with more than your wife, right?”
It’s the right thing to say. It’s the perfect thing to say. Yet the oddness of hearing herself saying it doesn’t appear. The interviewer makes another question, posed about Jacque, and Bella finds herself looking at her in the background.
White noise.
“Sorry, could you repeat the question? Still a little-” She spins a circle in the air with her finger. He asks again. “Yeah, she might have kicked up a fuss if I didn’t run back. Don’t tell her I said that though.”
The camera is turned off after she’s done but the interview asks a few background questions to fill in the report on the game. Bella stands there, itching to join her team and get out of her soaked jersey, before he thanks her and wishes her team good luck.
The mood on the bus back home is rowdy, every game is a big game no matter the opponent, and this is the first three points they’ve picked up in a major tournament since the 2008 Olympics.
There’s cause for celebration now but once they get back it’s time to look forward, to the yellow and blue that stands in their way.
To Sweden.
*
31st July 2012;
Canada v Sweden;
Lotta Schelin is a lot taller in real life. That’s all she’s thinking standing in front of Jacque as she shakes hands with the starting eleven for the Swedish national team.
Bella can hardly believe this is happening, she’d accepted her call to duty, her role as a sub during these games but John had unexpectedly spoken to her yesterday and told her that she’d impressed him with her energy and her passion during the South Africa match and that he was starting her up top with Oliv and Whembs against Sweden.
It was unbelievable, it didn’t seem real. She made him repeat it three times before it didn’t feel like she was about to be woken up at any second.
And now here she is, she’s heard the anthem and stared back to where she was sat for the past two games at this time.
It’s unreal.
Before they run to their positions Jacque gives her a quick hug. It’s just long enough for the crowd to see them flash upon the big screen along with the differing names on their backs. The smarter few will know and it’s a moment for them as much as it is Jacque’s congratulations on her first start at the Olympics.
The results are all in from the other matches, they need at least a point in this match to have a chance of advancing through to the knockouts. It wasn’t an option before but now losing really isn’t even on their radar, it’s either get a result out of this match or go home.
It’s the first match they’ve played anywhere but City of Coventry stadium and St. James’ Park, home of
John’s beloved Newcastle, is an intimidating venue. Across from her the Swedes look ready to rise to the occasion but she’s not, and her team certainly isn’t, going to lay down and make this an easy battle.
But disaster strikes early in the form of Hammarstrom in the fourteenth minute and Jacobsson in the sixteenth. Sadie stands with her hands clasped on top of her head just staring down the back four, she doesn’t say anything but her eyes tell the message. Less than twenty minutes have gone by and they’re already two goals down, it’s not acceptable.
Oliv, shining ray of hope she’s been throughout the whole tournament strikes the ball just past the Swedish keeper off of a cross from Niav in the forty fourth minute, giving them hope before the half.
Bella’s been running up and down the flank for a half, getting stuck into every fifty-fifty challenge she can find and there’s just a resounding feeling of hope in the locker room, spurned on by the goal Oliv scored, that they aren’t out of this game. It’s not like in the first group game against Japan. It looks different, feels different.
There’s another goal in this match and it has Canada written all over it.
But the clock ticks later and later, Bella can feel herself getting crunched harder in these tackles, rising slower off the ground each time, but she doesn’t dare look to the sideline, doesn’t dare give any indication that she wants off of this pitch. There’s never even the thought in her head that the equalizer won’t come, even as the clock hits eighty minutes and she can feel the nervous energy from the supporters seeping onto the field.
Sweden’s been slowly building up possession through the center of the park and it’s caused more and more of their midfield and backline to join into the attack. Bella hovers just a few yards in front of the back shoulder of Berglund, the last defender, keeping the width of the pitch. Sess sticks a foot in and breaks up the intended ball from Seger to Schelin, she steps in front of the Swedish striker and plays the ball quickly up to Sophie who takes one look up on the ball.
This is her cue, she gets Soph’s attention who plays a ball that changes the field and falls just a few yards ahead of her. She sprints to catch up to it and manages to just keep it in play.
The counterattack is on.
Sweden’s struggling to get back on defensive, having committed so much up into the attack, and this is their one chance, Bella can feel it.
She looks up.
Oliv is making a cutting diagonal run that will catch the decimated back line off guard if Bella plays the ball now.
Berglund doesn’t see Oliv’s run and she starts running out to mark Bella.
She hits the early cross and her world goes silent, a single resounding piercing silence is all she hears.
The path of the ball causes Berglund to spin abruptly away from her and all she can do is watch as it missed the outstretched foot of Nilsson, and falls to Oliv’s right foot.
She hits it on a half-volley and just like that they’re level.
The Canadian fans erupt and Bella hears everything come blasting back into full stereo sound.
Oliv points to her emphatically, face screwed up in absolute euphoria.
She points back and she can hardly believe it herself. Eighty fourth minute and they’ve tied it up at two, six minutes and whatever stoppage time left is all they need to hold on.
They dig in.
Everyone leaves a piece of themselves on that field, no ball goes unchallenged, no tackle uncontested.
The final whistle blows and it’s a Canadian party on the field and in the stands.
It’s a draw, one singular point but they’ve done it. They’re through to the next round. It doesn’t matter that the cross came off of her foot, it doesn’t make a difference that Oliv knocked it home. A full team effort was put in today and under John that’s become the norm and not the exception to the rule.
It feels good because they’re going through. But it feels amazing because they did it together.
This group of women who resolved, as early as January, to never give up on each other. To never give up on themselves and to see the tangible proof that it’s paying off is thrilling.
John comes up and throws an arm around her, ruffling her hair and yelling something she can’t really understand because he’s so excited.
She smiles and looks at her team celebrate, you’d think they just won the whole tournament.
But this is their path, their road towards redemption, and now they’ve completed the first checkpoint.
*
The kitchen staff has a small fit when they all walk out of the dining room with their plates of food yet no one attempts to stop them. John’s called for them to re-watch the Sweden game, the last of their group matches, before they truly start to focus on Great Britain.
The host nation won all three of their group matches, beating Brazil in a shocking 1 - 0 game. John is probably more excited than they are to face off against his homeland and Hope Powell.
Bella finds a seat at a table with Sadie and Kathryn for now. Jacque is still in the dining room. Bella isn’t too sure where she stands with Kathryn. They haven’t spoken much in the times that they’ve been together but Jacque has reassured her that her sense of betrayal and anger has been tempered down. Jan and Lauren soon join them so Bella tosses her jacket over the seat next to her, saving it, until Jacque arrives.
She’s anxious to see herself play on the projector screen. They’re watching the BBC replay with the commentary turned off so that John and the rest of the staff can give them pointers as the game goes on.
Eventually Jacque ducks into the room after they’ve turned the lights off and started the replay. Bella moves her jacket, freeing the seat for her, while the someone calls to turn the commentary on for the opening introductions.
“Your head looks bigger than mine.” Jacque jokes when the flurry of red jerseys jogs onto the field.
Bella kicks her shin. “You can’t even tell which one is me.”
“You’re wearing the number three.” Jan points out.
Jan is too far away for Bella to kick in the shins. She’s hushed by Kathryn anyway when the call for the national anthems is made.
“Are we joining in?” Sadie shouts.
“Sess says she still doesn’t know the words.”
“Guys, I was joking!”
Bella sighs in defeat. That’s never going to change.
John hushes them from the front. He’s the only one who’s not eating, choosing instead to get through this meeting first before leaving them to their own devices. The BBC commentary starts to run through the starting line ups for Sweden. Former teammates cheer when they hear their friend’s names being called out but other than that it’s silent until it’s Canada’s turn.
“John Herdman’s side is looking to push a 4-3-3 formation against a powerful Swedish side. Throwing three strikers up top, we have captain Christina Whembly, leading scorer for the Canadians- Olivia Andreoli and relatively new to this starting lineup is Bella Liresch who I’ve he-”
Bella swallows the bite of food she just took and Jacque has to slap her back to stop her from choking. “Oh man,”
“Woo, Bella Liresch!” Imogen yells.
“They certainly did their research.” Jacque grins easily because it’s hard not to be amused at the apparent use of her legal last name as opposed to the one on the back of her jersey.
The mumbles of the BBC commentators continue to the enthusiasm of the team as the camera pans onto Bella and Jacque’s pre-game hug. “For those of you confused at the lack of a second Liresch on the field, you’re looking at them now. Bella Liresch nee Ansar is the starting forward with Jacquelina Liresch starting on the backline.”
Bella is reminded fondly of the teasing narration that Oliv did over their married status at her first Cyprus cup. It’s not as polite as the BBC commentators are trying to be but Bella beams at the memory.
They soak up the last few seconds of the broadcast narrators before John mutes it. “Alrig
ht, settle down. Quiet in the cheap seats, okay?”
Bella glances at Jacque and prods her when she doesn’t look back. Bella can see why though. There’s a guilty amusement on her face over the whole last name incident that Jacque’s felt the need to hide from her.
She doesn’t seek an explanation or draw attention to it. There’s no need. They left that in the hotel room like they promised.
Bella does smile though.
*
3rd August 2012;
Canada v Great Britain;
The Quarter final seems to hold more weight in everyone’s minds after coming back on for the second half. Great Britain has the full force of the home support behind them. Thirty thousand people screaming for their team to win and for Canada’s blood.
At least that’s what it sounds like the second Bella manages to streak past Alex Scott on the left side. She bumps the ball past her and rallies up her second shot on goal when Sophie Bradley manages a clean tackle to kick the ball away from her but over the end line.
Carla is the loudest one shouting for everyone to get up as she jogs over to take the corner. Bella hugs the back post hopefully while Whemb and Oliv set up just in front of Bardsley.
They’re up by one and have twenty minutes to go before stoppage time. Bella has to tap onto the goal post to even believe that they’ve managed to arrive on, for all purposes, the host team’s soil and are set to steal a trip to the semi final from under them.
Sess directs some of the traffic into better positions and Carla’s hand finally goes up.
The corner seems to suspend forever in the air.
It curls perfectly into the GB defense who’s only thought is to clear the ball as far away as they can. There’s a scramble in the box, one that Whemb collapses in on to flick the ball out to Oliv. The shot is lined up. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd as Oliv blasts one high over the crossbar.
Agonizing groans come from the sideline and their subs. Oliv places her head in her hands at the flubbed shot.
There’s nothing more to do than to pick up and play on. Bella runs past Oliv and slaps on her back. “Head up. Next one.”
Oliv nods faintly and jogs back into position. Whemb watches from her side and they throw a palm up to each other while Bardsley sets up for a goal kick. Eighteen minutes to go. The crowd bares down on them. The missed shot fuelled their furious fire and they chant for Britain to win and for Canada to go home.
