‘Dina?’ Maya’s voice pulls me out of my head. She’s suddenly right beside me, studying me. ‘Jen’s calling you.’ She points to the centre of the pitch, where Jen is already standing over Sophie, studying her foot, which definitely looks like it’s sprained.
‘Right, thanks, sorry,’ I mumble, before jogging towardsJen, and trying my best to rid myself of the thoughts of my past.
Sophie looks to be in a lot of pain, but she’s trying to power through it.
‘You OK?’ I ask sympathetically, crouching over her.
‘Yeah, I’m … fine. Maybe I can still play?’ Sophie asks hopefully.
As much as I wish she could, I shake my head. ‘No way, you need to see a doctor,’ I say.
‘I don’t want to miss the match. Can I at least stay and watch?’ Sophie asks. The rest of the team, who have gathered around us too, chime in to allow Sophie to stay.
Jen looks hesitantly from me to Sophie. ‘We really should get you checked out.’
‘I can get checked out after the match. I’ll be OK, promise,’ Sophie says. ‘I can’t just abandon the team, especially since I can’t play. It’s the least I can do.’
I know that if it had been me in Sophie’s place, I would have been making the exact same arguments, so I can’t fault her.
‘OK, fine, but as soon as the match is over, I’m taking you to see a doctor,’ Jen says with a warning in her voice.
Sara and Jade give Sophie encouraging pats on the back, while Jen and I help her over to the touchline, where we sit her down on a bench and make sure that she’s OK before telling our sub to join the game in Sophie’s stead.
The match begins again, but with Sophie’s injury, it seems like all the players have deflated a little. Sophie was by far our best player, and it feels like we’ve lost our only advantage in the game just a few minutes in.
‘They’ll be fine,’ Jen says, obviously noticing the nerves clear as day on my face.
‘Yeah … yeah, they will be,’ I say, though I’m not feeling so sure about that.
I glance over to the reporters, who are still here, taking video footage of the match. Then my eyes drift across to where Aisha, Thea and Ma are still handing out snacks, while Deen is holding his terrible sign up high. If Baba were here, he would be there, right beside Deen, cheering on the loudest out of everyone.
When Deen notices me looking, he pastes on a grin and gives me a thumbs-up.
I roll my eyes, a smile finding its way to my lips. But a burst of applause goes through the crowd, snapping me back to the pitch. Westbrook have already scored their first goal. Cheers ring out from the other side of the pitch, with Maya leading the charge, though her heart doesn’t quite seem to be in it. Her shoulders are tense, and she chews on her lips.
Almost as if she can feel my eyes on her, Maya’s eyes meet mine, sending a bolt of lightning through me. She ducks her head before I can look away. She clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me – not after the last conversation that we had.
The game continues, and after a few more minutes, Westbrook score again. I can see the faces of the girls on my team getting more and more dejected. They didn’t play this badly in their last few matches, where they had been enthusiastic, even when the other team were winning. They’re really taking a beating here, and it’s making dread crawl through my entire body. This is what I didn’t want to happen, but I have walked them into this situation. I set up this match because I wanted to beat Maya.
I have let them down, and there’s nothing I can do aboutit now. I just have to support them and be the coach that I should have been from the start.
‘Come on, Divas, you can do this!’ I cheer, clapping my hands together.
The girls don’t seem particularly enthused by this display, until a chant breaks out through the crowd on our side of the pitch. I look around to find Ma and my friends enthusiastically leading the cheering for the Divas over and over again.
Some of the girls on the pitch start to grin. I notice the cameras zeroing in on the cheering crowd.
On the pitch, Sara gets hold of the ball. She dribbles it forward and towards the goal. There are no players standing in her way, and it seems like we might finally score a goal. But just then, the referee blows the whistle for half-time. Sara’s face falls and I let out a frustrated breath.
The girls jog off the pitch, their breathing fast and heavy, their clothes soaked with sweat, and their faces downcast.
‘They’re so going to rub our faces in this after the match is over,’ Sara says as she sits down on one of the benches, trying to catch her breath.
‘What am I going to tell my Instagram followers?’ Jade asks, frowning. ‘I bet I’ll lose a bunch after this. I should never have told them about the match.’
‘Hey!’ I interrupt them, having to almost shout to be heard over all of their complaining. ‘I told you guys, winning isn’t the only important thing.’
‘Yeah, but that’s just something people say; they don’t actually mean it,’ Jade argues, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at me. ‘I mean, of course, everybody wants to win. We want towin.’
