“Which is why you need to stop yelling at him. Don’t give him a reason to keep going.”
I grit my teeth and my nostrils flare as I turn to my team on the field. “Maddie, get in there and block something! Your job is to defend the goal, not help the other team score.”
She keeps her head down as she moves closer to the net.
My team is out of breath, cheeks flushed, running like their feet are stuck in cement. Maddie passes the ball to Natalie, but the other team gets in her way.
The whistle blows again.
Another turnover.
“Fuck,” I huff out under my breath.
Low murmurs spread behind me. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I know parents aren’t happy with the way this game is going. We don’t look anything like the team who won state last season. We’re down by five, and the only two goals we scored were by Natalie.
For the final quarter, I call a quick huddle. “For the next fifteen minutes, just get the ball to Natalie. Set her up and keep the defenders off her. We won’t win, but at least we can put a few more points up on the board.”
I swing my eyes to defense. “You gotta protect your goalie. You’re leaving Tori wide open out there.”
Then I look at Dominique, my newbie. “You’re fast but you have to stop hesitating. It’s killing us.”
Her chin drops. “Yes, Coach.”
“I know this ref isn’t on our side, but you’re not playing your best either. You can do better. So go out there and show us.”
“Yes, Coach!” they chant before running back out onto the field.
The whistle blows, but this period starts no different than the last three. Natalie scrambles for the ball, but it’s knocked out of her possession and returned for another goal.
Jesus. I toss my clipboard onto the table and yank my ponytail tighter. So much for starting off strong this season.
When the game ends, the team collapses onto the grass in a semi-circle, chugging their water bottles as they catch their breath. The scoreboard glows above their heads.
2-9
I plant my hands on my hips. “What happened out there todaycannothappen again.”
“We never beat Lacey,” Natalie says.
Annoyance spikes in my veins. “And maybe that’s why. You can’t win if you assume you’ll lose.”
“I’m just saying, they’re a tough team, and?—”
“And you weren’t playing tough enough.” My gaze sweeps around the group. “You’re going to have to practice more, and play harder. You’re tired? This is nothing. You should be crawling off this field by the end of a game. Leave it all out there, give it everything you’ve got. This wasn’t your everything.”
“Coach Ainsley.”
My head whips around at the sound of my name, my eyes landing on Mrs. Russo, Maddie’s mom. She’s leaning over the half-gate separating the bleachers from the field.
“Stop berating them. It’s the first game of the season.”
My chin jerks back, and my pulse thumps faster against my neck. “I’m not berating them. I’m coaching them. They lost. They need to understand why.” I swivel back around to address my team, but her shrill voice pipes up again.
“Your negativity will only bring the team down. They already feel bad enough. Let them go lick their wounds, and come back for a fresh practice on Monday.”
Several other parents nod in agreement.
If this lady thinks she’s going to tell me how to coach my team, she is sorrily mistaken.
