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I held up the red card and they nodded in approval. Then Kodi leaned down to grab my arm and pull me up as the players entered the field. As everyone screamed for their teams, Kodi leaned over and said, “Plus yelling at racists is a good way to keep warm.”

“Oh fucking come on,” I shouted at the field ref as they called a foul on Niall, who’d rushed in to get between Carter and the Tacoma attacker, or whatever his position was called. This dude was on Carter’s ass the whole fucking game. If it wasn’t a racist thing, it was a creepy obsession thing. The ref hadn’t completely ignored this dude’s bullshit, but every time the player was called out he made the most dramatic-ass gestures, begging the ref to reconsider. It made me hate him even more.

“You can move faster than that, Christenson! Steal the fucking ball already,” Kodi shouted and I swear I saw Niall flinch on the field, even though there’s no way he could hear her over everyone else yelling. And there was a lot of yelling, from both sets of fans. The game was already into overtime and no one had scored. Except, technically Ricci, but it didn’t count for some reason.

“So after this fifteen, will they just switch sides and do another set?” I asked Rosa. I’d learned when everyone said Kodi "got into it," they really meant it. Some dude made a comment about Brooker while we were in line for food during halftime, she nearly clocked the guy. Thankfully Rosa caught her in time and was able to pull her away. But the incident had made me wary to ask her any more questions while the game was going.

“Nah, after this they do penalty kicks.”

“And that’s?”

“Sorta like a one v. one. Just the scorer and the goalie on the field.”

“Shit,” I hissed and Rosa nodded solemnly.

“They’ve still got a few minutes though, they could pull it around.”

“If they lose, should we be worried about Kodi burning shit?”

“Nah, she’ll calm down once we’re out of the stadium.”

“The Dastards have had quiet a year, even with one hell of a shake-up mid season, they’ve adapted well. But this performance is … a bit of a let-down,” one of the announcers said over the intercom.

“Seriously. Think all that social media shi—content the new manager is pushing on them cut into practice?”

“The fuck did you just say to me?” Kodi shouted, hopping to her feet and turning toward the window where the announcers were. “I have half a mind—”

But as Kodi moved to leave our row, the ref’s whistle blew and she turned right back to the game. The ref started saying something, his voice muffled through the mic before being completely drowned out by the crowd. My head snapped to the screen, which played footage from whatever happened that caused everybody to freak out.

The replay showed the asshole in the big part of the goalie box, stealing the ball from Carter with a tight grip on the Dastard’s jersey, before Niall slid across the grass and his cleat went right into that guy’s shinguard. Apparently that was enough to get the Tawdries the free kick where everybody stood in front of the goal.

The guys took up their places in front of Kean, making a line that was essentially every other team player. Before fully settling into their places, Niall checked in with Carter and Taylor. They gave him tight nods and firm shoulder grips before moving to the opposite side of the lineup of the racist prick. Niall then went through the rest of the group and noticeably put his white teammates in between everyone else and the racist.

“Is this kind of thing normal?”

“Racism in Washington or soccer?” Kodi huffed. “The answer to both is yes. You should’ve seen the things people commented under our charity calendar post when we mentioned volunteering with pro bono immigration attorneys. I blocked so many fucking assholes, but at least I could take the brunt of it and not let the players see it.”

“But is there anything else they can do? Like get him fired?”

“Coach Sharma can push for him to get fined, and knowing him, he will. But I’d bet anything ‘fans’ will brush off his behavior as just ‘getting into’ the game. That bullshit happens all the time. For us, or us when we’re acting as fans, our job is to call it what it is. Shying away from the name is what lets others pretend it’s something else.”

We went quiet, all of us on the edge of our sets as the Tawdries kicker ran up to the ball. The moment felt heavy in such a different way than everything else going on did. This was a significantly more public way to fight racism than what I did in my classroom. There, my goal was to grow empathy, increase exposure kids might not get at home, little things that could make a big difference later on. But on the field, this was a grown-up fight with all the layers of bullshit the world has piled upon us.

And as gross and maddening as it was, there was still some hope on the field. Everyone on the Tawdries might overlook their teammate’s behavior, but the Dastards weren’t, and more importantly, they were checking in with their teammates. Throughout the game, every single player went up to Carter and Taylor. Brooker even dramatically smooched Carter’s forehead at some point, providing some much-needed comic relief while putting the emphasis on showing love.

Watching them play, knowing how they care for each other, I trusted they’d put up a fight.

And as the Tawdries guy kicked the ball toward the goal, they did. Everyone’s bodies flung upwards, jumping to block the ball. It bounced off one head, then another. It hit the ground and rolled toward Kean, who dived to cover it. But halfway down, one of the Tawdries kicked the ball up and over him, our friend’s fingers just barely grazed it before the ball flew over his body and into the net.

The Loss

Niall

We all sat in the locker room, exhausted and frustrated and silent. As soon as the game was over, Coach Sharma pulled us all in and went out to talk with the press so none of us spoke out in anger.

It was a smart decision and it was one hundred percent directed at me. By the end of the game, my nerves were completely frayed and I was acting out, making careless moves, getting more aggressive than I normally did.

This loss was my fault. I hadn’t been prepared for this game, at all. I hadn’t researched the opponents, I hadn’t looked at their team, I hadn’t even fucking asked my teammates if they had any concerns about facing the Tawdries. Had I done all my normal procedures, had I not taken so much time off, I would’ve been prepared for that asshole. I could’ve protected Carter better. I wouldn’t have lost my cool. We wouldn’t have gotten that free kick. We could have won.