Champion

Minute 4

Minute 4

“Wake up!” Said Mike. My best friend then, given the circumstances.

“I’m awake,” I replied.

“Yes, finally.” He looked concerned, “you look like a zombie. She does that to you.”

“What are you talking about?” I really wanted to know.

“Every time you talk to Sara. You become someone else, a stutter of some sort.”

“What?”

“It’s true.” He looked at me intently, “your language becomes flowery and slow, and you stutter so much it seems like you’re doing it on purpose.”

“I had no idea… how I …” I was in disbelief at what he was telling me, but he seemed to be acting out of honesty and concern, as usual.

“Well? What did she say?”

“I didn’t dare ask her.”

“What? You’ve been planning to tell her forever!”

“I know. Just that I wanted to be polite…” I realized I hadn’t spoken about myself or the game, “and only answered her questions and such.”

“You know what, dude?” He was disappointed, “you need to come back to being you again. Savvy?”

And he left just me there, as if punishing me.

It was the day I went to school, just before classes started, that I met Sara. The staff lady introducing us all new students to the school setup and facilities was explaining everything about the office, the gym, the classrooms, the blocks, the times, the cafeteria, and everything there was to learn about the school, but I was not paying attention to any of that, Sara infatuated me.

She didn’t even notice me, she was paying attention to what the lady said. I did hear every single word, but could not follow or remember anything.

Sara was about my height, skinnier than the average woman. Her light brown hair was long, straight and silky. Light brown colour skin gave the impression her parents were from different races. The honey-green of her eyes caught me. Those were not big brownish eyes like those from Latin America, neither almond shaped like the ones from the middle east or Africa. One could say there was nothing special about her eyes, but it was a colour that fascinated me, lots.

It was such a shock for me, who tended towards admiring thick meaty lips, to see such a nice thin small mouth make her oval face so beautiful. Though Venus would have never been jealous of any of such features.

She dressed simply: no jewelry, no watch, no fancy shoes, no earrings. Her blouse was white with small red flowers, and her black skirt on skinny hips made her look taller and leaner than she really was. I didn’t dare to get closer and say hi or anything, I only waved once when she turned, noticing I was observing her, and she replied with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I heard her say Thank You to the lady once the intro was over. Her voice was sweet as if she was still a ten-year-old.

Her image stuck in my mind as if someone had played a video-clip inside my brain on auto-play. I dreamed about her that night, and many others thereafter.

So, for the rest of the week all I could think of when I was at practice, was how to impress Sara, at the same time not letting Mario getting anywhere near her. I needed to find the way to make her see me play, but not Mario.

It would have been easy if she was in any of the classes I had chosen since the first semester, but having different interests at these early teenage years and just starting high school was difficult enough already.

When I saw her in one of the halls, it really was my intention to tell her that I’d love for her to be at the first game of the season, mostly because I didn’t know anybody on my new team and I felt that I needed some support from people other than my family. I was alone all the time anyway.

But I knew that I had less than seven minutes when I saw her at school, so I needed to be quick and to the point. Now that Mike reminded me that I didn’t do what I needed to do, it all comes back to me, in slow motion.

“Sara! Hi! Oh, you’ve grown a lot during the summer.” I was shaking inside, but nonetheless determined to talk to her.

“Hi, hum, Lynx? Is it? Is that what they call you?” She barely remembered me.

“Yes, that’s right.” I felt a rush of confidence. “It’s because of my goalkeeping agility and, well. You know how guys are.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that…” she blushed.

“Anyways, it’s good to see you in my same school, I mean, here with the rest of…” I was lost.

“Yes. We both had no other option. Did we?” She was giggling.

“No, we do not. And…” I was really lost, “do you, would you…”

“Hey! So, you’re on Mario’s team? Monarques?” Now she was really interested.

“No, I was, but…”

“Oh! That’s not good. He’s having a game at Majors Field this Saturday, right?” She spoke, smiling, which made me even more lost.

“No, I mean, Central Field, how do you know?” I was surprised she knew, but also concerned she knew.

“Mario told me. He said the team is a very good one after losing a few weak links, or something like that.” She told me that as though she was asking me who those weaklings were.

“Oh! I see. Listen, I’m glad you know about the teams, I mean Monarques, I wanted to-"

“So, you’re friends with Mario?” She was apparently interested in him, “is he really as good of a player as they say he is?”

“Who says that?” I was upset but didn’t want to let it show, “I mean, he’s a good player, but it also depends on the--”

“OMG! Well, I’ve heard from other people that he’s, literally, the best player in school.” She was talking to herself now.

“He’s good, I cannot deny that.” He was really good, I could not deny that.

“Anyway, it’s nice to see you, Lynx. See you around!”

“Bye… for now.” She didn’t hear the last two words.

Yes, I’d had a brief unproductive conversation with Sara, but it was not what I had planned to have for such a long time. Worst still, it seemed like she was interested in Mario. I couldn’t blame her; most girls were interested in Mario.

I was kind of baffled by that, I mean, he was not an Adonis, and his lanky body was neither muscular nor upright. However, he did have certain features that made girls whisper to each other covering their mouth, I just didn’t really get what that was.

The good news was that she now knew about me playing. She even knew about when the next games took place. That would certainly help for the next time I saw her.

Game time. Tigres vs Eagles.

Coach Alexander had taught me not to fear change. However, this was a big adjustment for me because I was the “new player,” which means everybody else knew each other’s strengths and play styles, except I.

Nobody told me what happened to the previous keeper, only pointing out that Williams was the backup goalkeeper. Other than that, nobody wanted to mention him, or perhaps they had been instructed by our old and strange coach not to say anything.

Coach Studer wanted to meet a full hour before our first game, to “just to go over game plan,” and remind us of what to expect from each other, and highlight (many times) that my being a new keeper might require lots of help from the defence, which, by the way, might be a little weak on the right side, because Nacho didn’t have as much experience as the rest of the boys. And that I needed to pay extra attention to the long-range kicks and blah, blah, blah…

Every so often, Williams would elbow me and say something like “this is important” or sometimes nothing, simply calling my attention. He was sort of the self-appointed captain, but to me he was just a control freak. His real name was John, but there were two other Johns on the team, so we called him by his last name instead. Which was stupid, because Buddy’s name was John, but everybody called him Buddy, and Patrick’s was John Patrick, and everybody called him Patrick. So, Williams could very well be just John. Crazy.

He noticed I was distracted, and that’s why he sat close to me before we started warmup, precisely to make sure that I, the most important player, was paying attention to instructions and strategies.

I could not help losing focus. I kept dreaming about not only if Sara would come to see me, if at all, but also about the new players: Giovanni, Nacho, and I. The former coming from a South American city, and apparently a very good player.

My mind was then travelling from Sara’s face and voice, to Coach Studer’s instructions, to my concern about what to do with the ball once it was in my hands, or at goal-kick time, or worse, if it ended up in the net.

Central Field was nice, in fact, better than any other field I’ve ever played on. It was a nice green-coloured artificial turf which its rubber pebbles were not black, like in most other fields, but earth colour. That made it cooler when the sun was in full shine. Diving for a ball or falling on it was not as uncomfortable.

All the lines were clearly visible, so much so, that I could even see the opponent’s small box lines from my own side. The only things I didn’t like were the nets: the metallic structure at the back was shorter in depth, which could be a problem if some of us were to trip each other and fall inside. Other than that, even the spectators’ bleachers were modern and new. I noticed because I was constantly looking in that direction, in between practice shots I longed for Sara to appear, but the only recognizable people were the ever-present fanatical parents, and only a few strangers. There were some girls watching, though, some from the bleachers, and some from around the fence.

But I could not see Sara anywhere.

So, she wasn’t coming.

That was good then, because I started to focus on my game. From the moment the kick-off whistle blew, we had most of the possession. The only balls that came to me were very easy ones: a ricochet, a couple of weak long-distance shots, and a backwards pass from Nacho intended for Williams, but it was so off, that I had to run to intercept the ball to avoid a corner kick.

Giovanni turned out to be, in fact, a very good player. He was fast and had a very good way to communicate his intentions using nothing but body language. And he had ball mastery and control like no other. The first two goals were practically a work of art from his feet. The opposing team was not weak, most of the first half was spent in fierce and physical battles in the middle of the field, and part of my good luck was thanks to Williams, who happened to do most of the defensive play, not only with the interceptions, covering, and marking, but also commanding the rest on what to do and who to pass the ball to.

The Eagles started to play better then, being down two - nil always makes any team fight more fiercely, a third goal mostly demoralizes everyone, while a one to zero doesn’t reveal much. However, two goals will always make the game more intense.

They started combining and triangulating with one-touches, and in a fast series of plays, they shot hard and high towards my goal. I had to run two steps backwards and jump as high as I could, half-stopping the ball, still spinning in the air, as I was falling. Coach Alexander had told me (shouted me) ad nauseam, that I needed to stand up as fast as humanly possible whenever I fell, which I did faster this time, jumping again to finally stop the ball that was only millimetres from the goal line. I grabbed it and wrapped my body around it as if covering it from the sun, the air, and hiding it from anybody’s view. Yes, my signature move: Lynx is playing!

I heard a lot of cheering and clapping from the bleachers, but Sara’s voice was still absent. I kind of knew that that play would be my highlight of this game. When I stood up and looked around to see who to distribute the ball to, Williams was smiling and nodding, his approval and way of saying “welcome to the team.”

Half time was a barrage of praises and instructions from Coach Studer. I was not really paying attention, and once again I glanced a few times around the field looking for Sara, to no avail.

The second half was more interesting than the first one, at least for me, because the coach made more substitutions, mainly on the defensive section. At one point in time Williams was on the bench, which made defence chaotic: we had to send the ball anywhere but in my direction, having to defend many throw-ins close to our net, and at least five corner-kicks.

In one of the corner-kicks the ball went high and fast but very close to the goal, I was able to quickly get to the nearest post and jumped high, catching the ball with a very good grasp, which prompted more cheers from the bleachers, and even Coach Studer. Other than that, mostly everything went uneventful and smooth. We were even lucky enough to have one of our shots bounce on an Eagles defender’s knee, causing an own-goal that made us feel at ease and carry the 3 - 0 all the way to the final whistle.

There were some other noticeable differences between Coach Alexander and Coach Studer. The latter was pointing out the fact that we won, the importance of always doing our best to succeed and so on, while Coach Alexander would high-five us or pat us in the back, praising at least one or two of us independently of the game’s score.

During the game, Studer was always shouting instructions to us, and complaints to the linesmen and referee, Alexander would only take notes.

Studer went straight into pointing out the mistakes we made, Alexander would be going to the other team’s bench to shake hands with the coach, then to thank the referees.

Studer was a fighter and a highly competitive one, while Alexander focused more on us, the players. She would always ask if we’d had fun, and to a couple of us if we had learnt anything in that session.

I missed Coach Alexander, but I had to accept reality. Besides, she was the one who told me, many times, to embrace change. We would always come out stronger from anything we felt was a bad experience, for those are the real-life lessons.

I woke up from my soporific thinking just when Coach Studer announced: “be fifteen minutes early for practice, no more easy practices. We’re going into real drills now. Have a good weekend everybody.”

Giovanni approached me then and shyly said, with broken English “you’re the better goalie I’ve seen to now.”

I felt elated, he was being sincere. “Thanks, Gio. Can I call you Gio?”

“Yes! Actually, that is my family calls me, Gio.” He smiled.

“Well, I do not know whether I need to tell you, but you’re the best player on this team, but you know that already.” I felt as if we knew each other for years, “I was just lucky the Eagles were not a better team.”

“But you saved that goal, I saw the ball entering…” had to gesture lots with the hands to complement his ideas, “so inside, almost.”

I realized I had just made a good friend, “it was you who carried us to victory.”

“We are to be a good team, you will see.” He said smiling.

“Yes, we are a good team. Bye now, Gio.” I felt happy that I did not think about Sara while I spoke to Giovanni. It wasn’t until I got to the bus stop that I started thinking about her once again. Man, this was going to be a very difficult year for me, and not in the football part of my life. School wouldn’t be much easier either.

Better to start accepting that and be ready for those lessons that were certain to come.

I knew what my dad’s first words would be when I got home: “how was it, kitty?” Because, to him, I would always be his “little kitty.” He had no idea about the kind of team I had just joined, much less the fact that I had started looking for a romantic relationship.

The poor man, if only he could go to places and see things for himself. I loved him very much, and I didn’t pity him for being stuck in a wheelchair. I knew he was strong and smart, so he would not pity himself either, in fact, it was the opposite: he said, for instance, that his chair was his throne, and that whenever he went to the loo, he played Game of Thrones. Even so, I kind of felt bad for him for what mom and I did constantly: conceal some truths from him and even outright lie.

Sometimes, I get the feeling he knows about these lies, but if he does, he hides his disappointment very well.

It’s, however, going to be very hard not to reveal my team and everything around it sooner or later. I don’t know what I’m going to do when that happens.