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I watch him leave and decide…
Will Aster is dangerous.
And it’s not his cocky smirk or the tattoos that tell me I’m in trouble.
It’s how I’m suddenly sure he’s not only the guy you can’t easily forget.
I’m certain he’s the guy you never get over.
TWENTY-TWO
SOPHIA
Isit back on my heels, squinting at the screen as I flip through a few of the photos from the first half of the game. The second half is about to start, so my finger moves quickly as I assess the photos in a few seconds. I managed to get an excellent picture of Otto catching a shot. And a few of Adler that I should send to my family.
But my favorite is the one of Leon Wagner, the blur of several seated players behind him as he paces along the sideline.
I’m getting better at this, I think. More confident in my instincts and less concerned I’ll do something wrong. It’s easier to seek out certain moments and predict where the best opportunities will arise.
“That one is excellent,” Alex says, glancing over my shoulder at the laptop screen.
He’s continued coming to every home match with me, both as a thoughtful gesture and because Alex is the sort of pure fan who would hate to miss a game. I can’t imagine a more perfect job for him than this, and I’m not surprised his injuries never kept him from coming, even if they did make it difficult for him to photograph.
“Thanks,” I reply, continuing to study it.
The few times I’ve met Leon Wagner, he’s been brisk and focused. Unsurprising for a German football coach. He’s led Kluvberg’s team for over a decade, an impressive tenure by any measure, and his animated expression says he loves his job just as much as Alex does. You can see the emotion—the love—in the photograph.
It might even be EPA-worthy. Might be. It’s an option at least.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay on?” Alex jokes, still looking at the photo too.
At least, I think he’s joking. Alex is supposed to get his wrist brace off tomorrow. I’ll be reassigned elsewhere starting next week.
“I’m looking forward to trying something different,” I say.
Which is true.
I should be relieved photographing games has come to an end. And I am. There are many other ways I’d prefer to spend my Saturday than at Sieg Stadium.
But…there are a few parts of this I’ll miss. And not just the glimpses of Will.
I was annoyed when I first got this assignment, that football had managed to infiltrate my interest the same way it seemed to overtake everything else. But ever since Will mentioned my photos to my parents last night, I realized that was a pessimistic way of looking at it. That photographing football is a way for me to appreciate the sport on my own terms, in my own way. An overlap with the interests of the rest of my family.
Noise from the crowd alerts me to the fact that players are returning to the field. I close my laptop and stash it safely away before fiddling with the settings on my camera. Debate about switching to a wide-angle lens and decide to keep the 400mm on. Focusing on why I’m here is better than scanning the sideline, looking for Will. At least this is the last time I’ll have to resist that temptation.
Ten minutes into the second half, Will gets subbed in. A little earlier than normal, which is bad news for me and good news for Will.
Wagner rewards effort, according to my father. And as I watch Will perform, it’s hard to think anyone else on the pitch is working as hard as him.
He dominates the field. Sprints and kicks like losing is for other players. There’s not the slightest bit of hesitation as he charges up the field. Then runs back down.
It’s an endless back-and-forth as both teams fight for possession.
Müller, a forward, passes to Will just outside the penalty arc. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood, only remembering to press the shutter button when I hear the rapid clicks around me capturing the play.
I’m not religious. My family spent Sundays at football fields until I was old enough to do my own thing with friends or boys. But I pray, just like some of the fans in the stands probably are. Just this once, I pray a game will go a certain way even though there will always be another one.
Will shoots…and scores.
