this is me trying

Chapter 32 - Ruining Everything

Ingrid and I lay on my bed after the game, both of us just as annoyed as the other. We had our destinies resting in our hands. We could touch it. We could feel it.

But we ruined it. She ruined it.

I wasn't sure what the game plan was, for the future of this team. But we were in our golden generation.

Ada.

Caroline.

Guro.

Ingrid.

Frida.

Maren.

Even myself.

How could we let it get to this point? How could we ruin something so special; something that had the possibility of being so great?

It felt all so wrong. So raw.

"Why did this have to happen?" I said to Ingrid, as we wallowed in our sadness. We lay parallel to each other, the TV on as we were both watching the Australia game.

"It's okay. We'll verse Switzerland and the Philippines. We'll make the round of 16. Just gotta have a little faith." She seemed so positive; I wasn't sure how she did it.

Australia was versing Ireland on TV. Sam Kerr wasn't starting; I was confused until I read that she was injured. That wasn't going to be good for Australia. They needed her.

As we watched, I felt myself overanalyzing the game. Why were they playing one of the best left-wingers in the 9? It wasn't working.

"You know what I'd do?" I said to Ingrid.

"What?"

"I'd move Foord back out to the wing, and bring Jones forward. Play her as the 9, even."

"I mean, Foord definitely isn't a 9, but you think that Jones would be better?" Ingrid asked, curious. I always felt my brain was football wired. In a different life, maybe I became a manager instead of a player.

"Yeah, I do."

And not even 5 minutes after I said all this, I could see the formation switch. Jones went up to the 9, and Caitlin was out on the left. Fowler filled in as the 10, and soon, the game felt it had more flow. Australia looked in control.

Tippah went down in the box in the second half, and Australia was awarded a penalty.

"Oh my god, Catley is taking it," I said, on the edge of my seat.

"Has she ever-?"

"Shush!" I said, wanting to hear the commentary.

Catley ran up, hitting the ball so hard, looping it to the top left corner. It was a beauty. It was magnificent.

She had the whole country riding on her back and she delivered. One day I want that: the pressure, the thrill, the chaos.

"What do you think it would be like to play in a home World Cup?" Ingrid asked me, after Australia had won 1-0 in front of 75,000 people.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "Like something out of a dream."

"Do you think it would ever happen?" she asked.

"I don't think I'd be around long enough," I replied, honestly. "But, Ingi, you have a good few years left in you, so you never know."

"And you don't?" she asked, sounding almost stressed at my suggestion.

"I don't know..."

"Have you decided on a club yet?" Ingrid asked.

"No..." I replied.

"Ev..."

"Can we not talk about it?" I asked, wanting to turn off the light and go to sleep.

"But this is your future..."

"Yeah, exactly. It's my future. Not yours. I don't need you to worry about it."

"Of course, I'm going to worry about it, but I'm never going to not worry about you!"