Page 208 of Playing By Ear

The Rainbow Regiment chanted:

Heather Wek

She’s hard as feck

She’ll break your neck

Like a ragin’ Shrek!

So the count was still even at 1-1. The Warriors clapped and whistled for Shona as she stalked toward the goal. She picked up the ball, turned it in her hands—on one axis, then another, then another, as though solving a Rubik’s cube—before setting it down again.

“Strikers and their rituals,” Katie murmured.

Shona took four steps back from the ball, sliding her hands down her sides. Then she stopped. The whistle blew. She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising, then sinking. Jamie recalled a stat from the penalties book, something about longer post-whistle pauses leading to more successful attempts. He’d have to remember that if his turn ever came.

Shona’s first step was almost a hop, then she sprang forward and slammed the ball into the right corner as the goalkeeper lunged the other way. Relief flooded Jamie’s veins, and he felt Colin’s and Katie’s shoulders relax along with his own. 2-1, Warriors.

Forthside’s center forward, Watson, slotted the ball home past Heather, evening the score.

Duncan’s penalty attempt was best measured in Mach numbers rather than mph. If Ramsay had touched the ball, his fingers might have snapped in two. Duncan gave an immense bellow and punched the air.

The crowd chanted its short but by no means short-on-energy rallying call⁠—

Dun-can’t?

No!

Dun-can!

—followed by:

One-can

Two-can

Three-can

Dun-can!

Without looking, Jamie knew one of the Regimenters was brandishing an inflatable toucan as the second line was shouted.

Next came Fleming, Forthside’s right winger. His posture held an aura of uncertainty as he approached the penalty spot. Or maybe Jamie was projecting.

Fleming rushed his approach and sent the ball spinning wide of the goal.

And just like that, the shootout was nearly over. If the Warriors scored on this attempt, the Cup was theirs.

Beside Jamie, Colin went still, his face uncommonly pale.

“You’re up, Colin,” Fergus said. “You’ve got this.”

Colin stood unmoving. “I am divinely supported in all that I do.”

Uh-oh.

“Bring it home, mate.” Jamie patted Colin’s back, trying to urge him on without shoving him. “Just like in the quarterfinal.”

Colin gave a jerky nod. “I am divinely supported in all that I do.” He set off toward the goal, repeating the phrase until his voice faded with the distance.