Miss Football Player

// 04

 

© daydrexming 2013

Disclaimer: I do not, I repeat, do not play soccer. If any off the soccer terms are wrong, I am extremely sorry. Same with the high school exams.

Also, this is American Soccer, and American Football. Sorry for any confusion.

--

I kicked the ball into the goal for at least the fifth time this quarter. I smiled to myself, normally I played goalie, but I could play a mean midfield. Most of the people just stood there, some were running up and down the field, trying to catch up with me. I was too quick, and extremely skilled. Their goalie was horrendous; by the time I would get past the defenders (although they weren’t much of defenders anyway) the goalie was not ready for the attack I had set up. 

We were about to kick off when the coach blew into the whistle, and put his hands up in the air, which meant the game had come to an end. We were running up to the locker rooms before the coach had barked, “Turner.” I cringed as he called out my name.

“Yes, sir.” I said.

“Nice job today, you’re good at midfield.”

“Thank you, but I normally play goalie.” I remark.

“Thinking of going to college with that kick of yours?” He questions, “Because if you are, I’ll write a recommendation to the college of your choice.” I nod, smiling with joy. “But,” he continues, “You have to do well in your other classes for reagents exams. I would say at least a B.”

“Thank you so much sir! It’s been my dream to play for Stanford since I was little!” I chirp.

“It’s my pleasure, glad to see someone is doing sports for college and not to get on top of the social ladder.” He smiles and then says, “Hope to see you on the team.” I nod and then he yells, “Now scram.”

I run up the hill and towards the locker rooms with a smile on my face.

--

After school, I saw Ryan. I ran up to him and said, “Ryan, I’m sorry, I can’t join the football team.” I had to break the news. The coach was going to help me get a full ride to college, how could I pass this opportunity down?

“Ashlynn, come on, are you not trying out because you’re a girl?” He asks, sounding a little disappointed in my choice.

“God no.” I gasp, “Soccer is my main priority, and it will help me get into college.” I tell him truthfully.

“Did someone offer to write a recommendation for you?”

“Fine," I started, giving in. "it was my gym coach—”

“Oh, really?” He says, like in a sarcastic tone.

“Yes really!” I shout. “This is my chance to get into Stanford, freaking Stanford! I’m not going to waste my time on some stupid football team; this is my future we’re talking about!”

“What about my future? Huh? If we can’t win a stupid game this year, my dreams of Oregon State are ruined, as are the rest of my teammates!”

“Ryan,” I blurt out, in utter frustration. “I’m not going to give up my future, just to make yours better.” Ryan’s face softens.

“Look I’m sorry,” he says, softer and gentler. Like the Ryan I know. “Just kick a football for me?” I raise my eyebrow. “Just one.” He says, looking at my expression.

“Okay, fine, just one.”

I follow him outdoors and over to the track. In the middle was the football field, with freshly cut grass and newly painted markers. Ryan leads me over to about the 25 yard line, he sets the ball down. I get in the stance I had seen on T.V. and I breathe heavily. If I was going to do this, I might as well do it right. I run and with all my might, I kick the ball.