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“Sorry, Willie,” is all I can say.
Willie pays for his drink and turns around to walk away.
I know something has changed inside me.
“Willie,” I call out and Willie immediately turns. I realize I’ve made a mistake. The hope that I’ve changed my mind about coming to the game is written all over his face.
“Good luck… for the game,” I say lamely, feeling bad about disappointing him.
He nods, and turns away.
Chapter 101
As I jog on to the field, the stadium is already full. For a country that’s not particularly crazy about the sport, plenty have come in time for the cup final. Anaheim Knights vs Miami Titans. David Adams vs Javier ‘El Matador’ Romero. The old rivalry, fueled by a new fire.
I barely get any applause as I jog around the field with some of my team members. Not a surprise. But I promised myself in the morning that I’m going to be positive. I’m not going to listen to anybody else—just put my head down and focus on the game. The only problem is I’m still not sure if I’m going to play in this game at all.
The coach still hasn’t announced the starting lineup yet and I have a very slim hope of making it. I stretch and put extra pressure on the leg that was injured. The leg isn’t a hundred percent yet. A slight discomfort pangs as I do a few lunges tells me that if the opposition team knocks me around as they always do, I’ll be limping again in no time.
But this is the important game. A chance to redeem my reputation. It’s a chance to go down as a hero in the history of the Knights and I’m not going to let it slide just because of an injury. A loud cheer goes up around the stadium and I’m jolted out of pre-game thoughts.
I turn to see Javier Romero jogging on to the field. Everyone’s attention is on Javier, while the Argentine’s attention is on me. Javier smirks, like a man sure of himself. After a quick glance, I continue what I was doing. If I’m to win this, then he can’t let anyone else distract me.
Especially Javier.
Javier isn’t warming up. He’s playing with two balls and doing tricks for the crowd. He accidentally kicks one hard toward me.
He’s just trying to provoke me.
For a moment, I’m tempted to kick the ball back at him, or to go over and play some tricks on him, but I don't. My mind is already in a dark place and I can’t let someone like Javier trigger the repressed anger inside.
Thankfully for me, the assistant coach calls for an end to the warmup and informs us the starting lineup has been posted in the locker room. The moment of truth is here. Within minutes, I find out whether I’m going to start the game or if I’m just going to sit on the bench.
When I read the list on the board, I want to punch a hole in the wall. My name is not on the list. True to his reputation, coach Miller decided to relegate his best player to the bench. I shake my head in disappointment. My one last chance to get one over Javier, to beat him, and the coach just took it away.
“Sorry about that, man.” I hear Willie’s voice and turn.
“I was expecting it, but feels much worse now that it actually happened,” I say.
“Don’t be so down. There’s still a chance that the coach will sub you into the game.”
“Have you seen him look at me? He has nothing but contempt. He doesn’t even talk me directly.”
“Man, I always trust my gut feeling and today my gut feeling tells me that you're going to play, and you're going to do very well.” Willie smiles.
“I wish I was as confident as you are.”
Willie is starting the match and I would give anything to be in his position. Nonetheless, I’m happy for him.
“Maybe we should go pray in the chapel,” Willie says, nodding in the general direction of where the little chapel is located, intended for religious players who want to send in a last minute prayer.
“Mate, you having a laugh? I haven’t been to a church in years.”
“Man, today you need all the prayer you can get. I'm just offering you what I know.” Willie shrugs. Thinking it through my desperation to play even a small part in the game is worth giving it a shot.
Willie leads me to the chapel, saying words of encouragement on the way. He ushers me into the chapel and slides in to turn on the lights. When I turn to face the altar, my shock is complete. Carrie stands there, her hands clasped together, an unsure look on her face. I turn to look at Willie, to ask for an explanation, but he’s already making an exit.
“You’re welcome,” Willie winks before he shuts the door behind him.
