old friends • tom holland

four

May 1st, 2016
Four years later
20 years old

I looked around my room, frantically searching for my warmup jacket. I spotted it hanging on my door handle just as my phone buzzed. A text appeared from Lucy-- she found it necessary to text me repeatedly when she was waiting for me outside of my apartment building. I flicked off the light, jogging down the stairs to the entrance of the building.

"You know, I feel like you run late every single day. It's lucky that coach wants you on the team, because if you rode the bench you would be off the squad so quickly you wouldn't even know what hit you." Lucy pressed on the gas as I finished tying up my hair. She sent me a playful glare before looking back at the road.

"Then it's a good thing you tell me practice starts fifteen minutes earlier than it actually does. Yeah, I'm onto you. I could definitely be on time if I knew I didn't have fifteen extra minutes!" I said, rolling my eyes at her.

"You should be thanking me for having your back, pal."

"Maybe when you have a good attitude about it." I joked as we pulled into our home stadium. I had joined Sky Blue FC last year, and the New Jersey based team had been everything that I hoped for when I dreamed of going pro.

Lucy slammed the car door shut after we grabbed our soccer bags, and we started jogging out to the field. The locker room was open to us, but most people found it easier to change at home before practice. I took my seat on the bench, lacing up my Nikes. Most of the team had already arrived, but coach hadn't come out yet so I seemed to be in the clear. Once I was stretching I could no longer be punished for my almost tardiness. I didn't really feel the need to run extra sprints today, but then again I never felt like it and it still seemed to occur more often than I would like to admit.

The practice went smoothly; three hours spent conditioning, doing passing drills, defensive and offensive techniques, tactics, and thirty minutes of stretching at the end while we watched our opponents games.

Lucy playfully shoved me as we stood up after cooling down, "You think that you can manage to get us home on time?"

I rolled my eyes, "I mean I could, but do you want to stay for a bit and practice shooting? I've been wanting to reinforce my spots before the season gets into full swing."

Lucy smiled. "I could never pass up an opportunity to play more. And I guess that you will do as decent company."

"Great."

We spent over an hour on the field once everyone was gone. There's something therapeutic about pounding a ball into the back of the net over and over. The sun shone down on us, and I could feel beads of sweat trickling down my neck and I worked on perfecting my left foot. "Hey, Luc, you want to do me a favor and hop in goal for a second?"

"Don't you remember what happened last time we tried that?"

I shrugged innocently. "No?"

"Get that sorry look off of your face! You almost broke my finger!"

"Hmm, it's not ringing a bell. All that I can think of is that time you tripped after you tried to tackle me and bent your finger backwards."

"That's definitely not what happened, you liar! But I'll let your deceitful ways go if you drive us back to your apartment."

I shrugged. I didn't mind driving, and thankfully the traffic was not quite as bad in the middle of the day. "Sure," I responded.

We grabbed our clothes and equipment that had been throw around the field and headed out. The drive was uneventful, and I was relieved to get home and to the place that had food.

We spent the rest of the playing scrabble and watching replays of old world cups. I loved watching the players experience their dreams coming true, and wondering what it would be like to play at that level. Lucy and I also loved to critique the players, or pretend that we were the referees.

"That was not a foul! I can't believe this ref! I could do a better job, and he's making more for this one game than I make in a year." Lucy stood up and waved frantically at the television, pointing as if the call that was made ten years ago would be changed if she complained loudly enough.

"This is coming from the girl who enjoys protesting her yellow cards after she elbows someone in the face intentionally. I enjoy your confidence, but I don't think that you will be getting your referee certification anytime soon." I retorted, laughing at the disgusted expression that appeared on her face.

The rest of the night was spent the same way, laughing at and learning from those who paved the way for us.