The coaches daughter

On the team

Sitting on a plane for 2 days didn't interest me, watching movies on the plane didn't interest me, moving to California, Los Angeles didn't interest me, none of this did.

Being the only child of a coach that only has one parent needs to be able and willing to move place to place without no whining but for me whining is not going to state my feelings, I am; annoyed, lonely, sad, angry but most of all terrified.

Terrified of my new life. Will there be a soccer team? Is there going to be nice people? Am I going to be alright here? All this question rushed to my head in a matter of second making myself feel dizzy.

"You worried about tomorrow?" I turn to look at my father as he keeps his eyes steadily on the road.

I shrug even though he couldn't see me. "I guess I am," is all I say.

"You should make lots of friends now that you're on their soccer team," my father's voice sounded jumpy but also lonely.

"Hmm." I was in my own little world. 'Now that you're on their soccer team.' "Wait! What did you do, dad!" I raise my voice into a loud shout now realising what my father had just said.

No, this is not like that cheerleader movie, 'bring it on' when they cheer for another team they betray the old squad and become a cheer whore. The real reason Why I am so shocked and shouting at my father is that I have never even been to this school let alone the town or even the state and he did it without telling me first.

"Calm down. Young lady do you love soccer?" My father stupidly asked.

'What sort of question is that' I think before answering the non-helpful questions, "yes I do, very much."

"Then you're on the team, they will learn to accept you. They will also be meeting you tomorrow afternoon straight after school."

I nod to myself. "Yes, coach."

"That's my number 1," he proudly cheers reminding me of something.

"Um dad," I say quite nervously, unknowingly why.

"Um yes," he says mocking me.

"Will I still be number 1?" I ask, now looking out my passenger side door.

I keep quiet as he does a light sigh and responds, "sweetheart, back home you were the captain, but other soccer teams need captains too. So your answer is no your not number one, but you will always be number one to me," he knocks my shoulder lightly with his arm as I have a small figure.

"What number am I?" I ask.

"Let me think," he takes a moment. "Number 11."

"The last player!" I am so shocked I've never been the last player. Hell, I've never been number 2. I know what you might be thinking is that I am a greedy and selfish person and you may just be correct, I may just be all those things your thinking.

"What did you expect?" My father seems really calm about moving and coaching another team after he has been coaching for 20 years in the same area.

"I'm sorry. Of course. I understand," I look in the distance out of the car window to see we were already in the city. There were vast amounts of people walking the streets with swimmers on or in work suits.

I sigh before closing my eyes. So I have been put a soccer team I don't even know the name of yet.

I look back up at my father who is concentrating on the road. "Dad?"

"Mm," is his response which is pretty natural for him.

"What is this team called?"

My father chuckles, "What I have read up on by the other coaches that have trained them is that they are called the 'Wolves', and they have some problems with anger."