IDIOSYNCRASY // Soccer

Ch. 41

I take in a deep breath, but nothing seemed to be working. My heart was in my throat, then dropped to my feet and did that over and over again. There was numerous butterflies in my stomach, like I was in anticipation for the big drop on a rollercoaster.

I sat on the bench and didn't listen to the lecture Coach was giving. I stared at my white cleats, they were the old ones that were too big for me two years ago. The white shoes had signatures from every player on the Los Angeles soccer team in my freshman year.

"Last game of the season, dont mess it up." Coach says. "What are we going to do?"

"Win!" The whole team chants.

"What will I make you do if you dont win?" Coach bellows.

"Run!" The team says.

"Kill us..." I mutter.

The team gathers in the middle, and I look at the Los Angeles team I once played for. Sam looked at me furiously before averting his eyes to the numerous referees at the game. That could have been me, standing there on the other side of the field.

I send a small wave to Brandon, who was glaring intensely at me. I bring my hand down slowly, feeling stupid that I thought we could still interact. My head snaps to the referee as he blows the whistle. I smash my foot into the ball and it lands in front of Parker.

He takes off with the ball with a few opposing players behind him. Sam runs after him, catching up with him faster than his teammates could. He obviously improved immensely since the last time I saw him, his sprints were much faster. That one little action made my nerves spike.

I run after Sam, also catching up to him. Parker passes the ball to me, which was a stupid move. Sam intercepts and kicks the ball behind him before turning around swiftly. He dribbles the ball to midfield, when Bryson interrupts him by slide tackling the ball.

The ball lands in my feet and I dribble it back a few feet, only realizing I had to shoot now. I boot the ball as hard as I could. As the goalie's fingertips reach for the ball, my anxiety was heightened every inch he grew closer to the ball. The goalie's hands touch the bottom of the ball, but he misses the ball as he collapses to the floor.

The goalie, who was new this year, so I didn't know his name, quickly brushed himself off and punted the ball as hard as he could. The ball went soaring above the field, looked as if it was high as an eagle, soaring through the pale blue skies. The ball starts to trickle downwards towards Parker, and he winces as he hits the ball hits his chest. He holds an arm out and blocks the defender next to him. Panic rises in Parker's face when the defender was almost successfully getting the ball, and Parker's defensive skills were faltering. He lifts his head up from the ball and punts the ball over to me.

Unfortunately, the ball was aimed poorly. Screw it, I thought as I jumped as high as I could and hit the ball with the greatest strength I could muster. As the ball bounced off the point where my forehead and hairline met, I knew I messed up. Sudden pain filled all my senses, overpowering the slight numbness from the body parts the broke my fall.

The ball flies into the net, and the crowd roars in happiness. The goalie looked bored out of his mind, and he clearly was not trying at all. The referee blows his whistle, and my team screams out of joy. 2-0. We won! I look at Parker excitedly, but his attention was focused on the other players. I push down the feeling of sadness and avert my eyes away from him. I edge closer to Bryson and jump onto his back, enclosing my arms around his neck and yelling in his ear, "We won!"