Quinn slaps her palm against mine. “Nice play, Coach.”
A wide grin splits my cheeks. We’re up six-nothing, and the girls are working together, communicating and passing. They trust each other.
With half the game over, I pull out a couple of my sophomores and put in the freshman.
“Shreeya, you’re up.”
Her wide brown eyes snap to mine. “Are you sure?”
I chuckle. “Positive. Get out there and show ‘em what you got.”
The sophomores on the sidelines tap their sticks against Shreeya’s, cheering her on. She slides her mouthguard into place and lowers her goggles over her eyes before running out onto the field.
“Yeah, Shreeya!” her parents yell from the bleachers.
She’s a quiet, anxious kid—not the qualities you’d assume for an attacker. But Shreeya has some serious skills, and with a bit of experience, her confidence will bloom.
The first game isn’t about winning. That’s where Ainsley went wrong earlier. It’s about giving your team experience, and helping them adjust to the game as it plays. She expected to come out the gate with a well-oiled team, and let the loss get to her instead of helping refocus her team.
That mom was out of line though. I couldn’t sit idly by and let someone overstep Ainsley’s coaching authority. Parents shouldn’t even be allowed that close to the huddle. But apparently, I was the one who overstepped.
I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t whenever it comes to Ainsley Morgan.
The screech of the whistle pulls me back into the present.
Forget about her.
Jayden, my midfielder, is fast as lightning. Her legs carry her from our goal all the way to the other side of the field, as she manages to keep possession of the ball.
Shreeya’s open.“Pass it, pass it!”
Jayden feeds it to Shreeya, and she whips the ball toward the net. The goalie snatches the ball before it can reach the net, and passes it to someone on her team. The ball gets carried away, and Shreeya’s chin hits her chest for a brief moment.
It’s okay. Keep playing. Come on, kid.
She jogs to the opposing side, and gets back in the game.
Not long after, she gains possession of the ball again, and runs it down the field. She has the opening to make a shot on the goal. Instead, she stops and passes it to Jayden, who isn’t prepared for it. The opposing team scoops the ball mid-air for a turnover.
Damnit.
Still, I clap. “That’s okay, Shreeya. Shake it off.”
“She’s going to be so upset,” Quinn murmurs.
“I know.”
We’ll make sure she knows it’s okay to mess up.
By the end of the game, the other team scores twice, but we still win.
The sophomores jump on Hannah, our goalie, and they erupt in cheers.
First game of the season.
First win.
I let out a long exhale, my shoulders dropping and my chin lifting a fraction higher.
