The girls nod happily, moving into position before I evenhave to give them any instructions. They remind me of my first practice session on the school team, when Nadine, Gwen and I were bouncing on our feet to get started.
I watch from the touchline as they line up to take their penalties. One by one they go about trying their best to score. Only a few of them manage to get their shots past the goalie, but all of them give it their best – I can tell from each of their determined expressions, the way they seem to weigh up everything as they step up to the ball.
Once they’ve each had a chance, I step in to give them some instructions on how they can improve.
‘You should always have an idea of where you want to kick the ball when you approach it,’ I say, coming up to the ball myself. ‘Make sure you drive forward, and follow through, and don’t change your mind. If you get confused, or change your mind, your shot won’t land.’
I kick the ball, and it flies through the air and soars into the net. The team bursts into cheers and applause, and it almost brings me back to my own team. To being on the pitch, playing a game with them. But when I turn back, of course, all I see are the young girls of this new team, with their beaming, enthusiastic faces.
Yet, it doesn’t seem that different, in a way. Maybe I can make a real difference here. Maybe I can love it even more than playing football myself.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Let’s try one more time.’
The girls line up to take their penalties as my phone buzzes in my pocket. When I slip it out, Isabel’s name flashes on the screen.
‘Hey, I’m kind of busy right now,’ I say, as soon as I answer the phone. My eyes track the girls as they take their penalties.
‘Oh, sorry, I’ll be quick!’ Isabel says. Her familiar voice feels soothing. She’s been a tether for me these last few weeks. I don’t think even she understands that she is the reason I’ve managed to pick myself up and actually start to do things with my life.
‘OK, what’s up?’
‘Do you remember Nina Hall? She used to coach for the Red Royals?’
‘Yeah, I remember her.’ We played the Royals a couple of times during my time on the Vikings. Nina always got along with our own coach and her team always seemed to have a lot of respect for her.
‘Well, she’s looking for—’
One of the girls stumbles as she kicks the ball, falling flat on her face. I wince, and rush towards her, Isabel’s words a mumble in my ear.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask.
The girl stands up, tossing her brown ponytail behind her and brushing herself off like it’s no big deal. ‘Fine. Sorry …’ She looks at me hesitantly, like I’ll reprimand her for the accident.
‘Nothing to be sorry about. Let’s go again, I’ll help you. Give me a second.’ I press the phone to my ear again.
‘… And so I think you should do it. Will you?’ Isabel asks.
‘Sure, yeah. But I really have to go, Isabel, sorry.’
‘Oh.’ Isabel sounds surprised. ‘OK, great. I’ll text you the details.’
I have no idea what I’ve signed up for, but it’s Isabel so it can’t be that bad. Maybe Nina is over in the UK and wants to catch up over coffee sometime, and that wouldn’t be so bad. It would be nice to see her again.
I hang up the phone and turn back to the girl. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Laila.’ She sounds nervous as she speaks. I offer her a bright smile.
‘OK, Laila. Let’s do this again.’ I place the ball down in front of us and show her how to fix her stance, how to approach the ball and drive her foot through it correctly.
She frowns, but seems to take it all in. I can tell that there’s something distracting her, though, like she’s not completely here. It’s her furrowed eyebrows, the fact that she keeps looking over her shoulder.
She tries the penalty kick one more time, but there isn’t enough power in her shot and the ball only dribbles forward slightly, instead of flying goalwards. I can see the other girls get frustrated, rolling their eyes and sighing. Meanwhile, there’s a pink flush across Laila’s cheeks.
‘Let’s call it a day,’ I call out to the girls. ‘We’ll pick this back up tomorrow.’ I look to Laila. ‘We’ll try again tomorrow, all right?’
She nods, not quite looking me in the eyes, before joining the rest of the team in jogging off the field. I watch with a frown. There’s definitely something going on with Laila.
I fall into some kind of a routine over the next few days. It almost feels like maybe I’m back on track with everything, like perhaps it’s not the end of the world that all my dreams were shattered at the youthful age of twenty-eight. Because I wake up in the morning and I have something to do with my life – even if it’s something as simple as inspiring a young and enthusiastic group of footballers to play their hearts out.
