Hitches in the Road

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We've been at this since the ass crack of dawn, it's now a warm Italian afternoon. I wear a sports bra, shorts, shin guards, socks and cleats. I feel the hot sun start to tan my skin as I break for water. I chug down water, trying to replace the fluids I lost. Easily this is the hardest I've ever trained. It's because last year we got our asses handed to us, I guess. The new coach Anson Dorrance, is hell bent of having a better out come, even if it means killing us. Chelsea is struggling as well, she's the best goalie I've ever had the honour of playing with and these drills are killing her.

"Alright ladies, back to the drills." Coach tells us, I finish what's left of my water bottle and head back out to the pitch.

We run through the drill a few more times before he calls everything to a stop again, he points directly at me.

"Red head with a big attitude." Coach calls.

"That's me, sir." I say as he walks over to me.

"What was that?" He wonders.

"What was what?" I ask.

"Your lack of communication and passing the ball. Soccer is a team sport. What's your name?" Coach critics.

"TJ Rose." I say and he nods.

"Where are you from TJ?" He asks.

"LA." I lie and he shakes his head.

"No way, you're from a small town. That's why you're so good, you're hell bent of proving everyone wrong. You are a fantastic athlete but you're lacking in sharing the glory." Coach tells me, he points to the other strikers. "They are your front line of defence, use them. Run the drill again."

I take a deep breathe and I try again. I take the ball to the net, bouncing it between the other strikers. I kick the ball at Chelsea in the net.

"That's better ladies, now gather around." He calls and we all gather around. "Now I've just heard back from my colleague and we have another week of soccer back on home turf. After Italy we fly into Minnesota and have another week there at the national soccer complex. Now it's been a good day of practice, I'll see you tomorrow for the game."

I get out of the shower and flop down onto my bed, I share a room with Queenie. She's picking dirt out of her cleats on the balcony. It's about four o'clock in the afternoon and all I want to do is sleep. Nine hours of training. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around my pillow. As soon as sleep starts to take me the phone rings, Chelsea answers it quickly.

"Hello?" She starts. "Hi!" She squeals, it must be Izzy or the boys. "Yeah, hold on she's asleep. I'll put you guys on speaker." Chelsea shakes my shoulders. "Come on, the boys are on the phone."

"Isn't it really early out there?" I mumble as I count back in my head, it's like seven o'clock in the morning there. I rub my eyes and sit up.

"Alright lads, you're on speaker." Chelsea calls.

"Hi TJ!!" They call.

"Hey guys! How's everything at seven o'clock in the morning?" I wonder and a couple of them laugh.

"It sucks." Steven admits.

"Why the hell are you sleeping at four o'clock in the afternoon?" Axl wonders.

"Nine hours of training." I say. "We just got back about an hour ago."

"Fair enough." He replies.

"So we have some bad news." Chelsea says.

"How bad?" Duff wonders, I miss his voice.

"Another week away." She tells them.

"We've got another short tournament in Minnesota." I explain.

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