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Still, my thoughts kept circling back to David. Watching him sit by the sidelines impatiently, I can tell that he’s itching to get on to the field. Every time I look at him, he kicks at something in frustration because his team’s playing badly—or he’s sitting with his head in his hands since he can’t do anything about it.
The second half of the match has already started and the Anaheim Knights are trailing the Miami Titans by one goal. As fate would have it, that single goal was scored by Javier Romero, who celebrated right in front of the Knights’ bench in an attempt to provoke David. Everybody in the stands is talking of their rivalry and to me it seems that many came simply to see if another fight would break out between the two. Luckily, nothing has happened yet.
Although I don’t consider myself a religious person, I prayed for David when I waited for him in the chapel. I’ve said a thousand prayers since the game started as well. I just want him to get his chance at redemption. Especially now that he is all mine.
“Why are you smiling?” Harry asks innocently. I take his face in my hands and kiss him on the forehead, but he shies away again.
“Because I'm very happy and I will be even more happy when your daddy scores a goal for us.”
“Yay!” The little boy says and once again, stands up on his seat to spot his father. He’s desperate to see his father play.
I’m pleased at how quickly David and I were able to clear our misunderstanding. This is how a meaningful, strong relationship is. After we had spent that short time in the chapel, there was a stark change in David’s attitude and his appearance. Determination sparked in his eyes—the look of a man who desperately wants to be happy and make those he loves happy. My fingers are crossed for him.
Chapter 103
Punching my palm, I try hard to not let frustration get the best of me. Only fifteen minutes are left in the match and yet, Coach Miller hasn’t given me as much as a look. Javier had scored the single goal for the Titans and so far, none of my teammates looked capable of equalizing the score.
I shoot yet another look to the assistant coach but he just shrugs his shoulders, indicating that he’s got no clue what the head coach has in mind.
A loud shout comes out of the crowd and I see that one of my team mates, the one who had replaced me, is on the ground writhing in agony. He’s been fouled hard by one of the Miami players and there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he’s picked up a serious injury. No surprise, since the Miami players have been playing very rough throughout the match.
“All right, you’re up,” Coach Miller walks up to me and finally says the four words I never thought I’d hear.
I quickly stretch and clear my thoughts. I have a game to focus on and I am going to make a mark on it, no matter what it takes.
“Don’t let me down, boy.” Coach Miller gives me a stern look but I ignore it. I’d rather let my performance do the talking. As I jog on to the field, I turn to look at Carrie and Harry cheering me in the stands. I know I have to do it for them. All my life I’ve fought for glory but that was all for my own self. This time, it’s not. I won’t lose tonight when the two people I love the most are there watching, expecting great things.
Barely a few minutes go by and I’ve already been fouled three times. The opposition player grins, smirks and pushes me around intentionally. Clearly this is their game plan. Destabilize the Knights most important player and not let him have an impact on the game.
Every time I get a pass, two opponents are on me at once. When I try to dribble, they do their best to trip me. Javier is clearly egging his team mates on to attack me, and more than once I see him smirking, self-satisfied, happy that the plan is working.
Memories of the World Cup Final flash in my mind—Javier playing mind games and provoking violence. My resolution grows strong and I calm down. Bending down to retie my laces, I pull down my socks and flip up my collar. I'm not taking their shit anymore, I decide. Enough of playing the good boy.
I jog over to Willie. “Cover me when they try to foul me. Don’t let them get near.” H nods.
The next time I get the ball, I race forward at the speed of wind to put it in the goal. I go past one opposition player, then another and another. I’m not thinking, just letting my instincts move me forward. Only two players and the goalkeeper are between me and the goal. I can dribble past them.
Then I decide that would be too much work. Raising my right leg high, I unleash a shot. Even before it goes into the goal I turn, face the bench, spread my arms wide and look Coach Miller right in the eyes. I know it’s a goal even before the ball starts its descent. The roar of crowd that erupts with joy a few seconds later just confirms it.
I can see the headline: Just five minutes before the end of the game, David Adams scores a stunning goal tying things up. My teammates rush forward to congratulate me, to celebrate with me but I’m not smiling. Yet. The match isn’t over and I’m focused only on winning.
“Lucky shot. But you'll lose anyways,” Javier whispers as he jogs by.
“You’ll see,” I smirk.
“That’s what your mother said last night when she…” Javier makes a sexual gesture, implying David’s mother did unthinkable things to him.
I just smile.
“Save it, Javier. It's not going to work again. Focus on playing well instead, because so far, you've sucked. That goal you scored was a fluke and you know it.”
Javier’s face immediately goes sour. I chuckle, seeing Javier so bothered by critique.
Now that I’ve scored a goal, the opposition puts more players on me. I can’t even touch the ball without a Miami player breathing down my neck. I have to trick them. I whisper something to Willie and ask him to shadow me again.
Next time a pass comes to me, I run toward the ball as if I’m going to take it, but instead I let it run through my legs so that it’ll reach Willie instead, who’s doing as instructed. Much to the opposition’s surprise, I sprint beyond everyone else who all have their eyes focused on the ball at Willie’s feet.
Willie makes a long pass right to me, when I’m already much closer to the goal than anyone expects. With barely half a minute on the clock, this is my glory moment. All that I’ve fought for, my chance to make all the wrongs right. As I lift my leg to take the shot, someone crashes into me. For a moment I see stars and once I regain my senses and get up, Javier is staring in his face.
