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“Pussy,” Javier says, but I just smirk. The referee awarded a foul and a free kick barely twenty yards away from the Miami goal. If there’s a chance for the Knights to win, it’s right now.
“You're a has-been. You're going down.”
“And you're a bully who has no power over anybody. So piss off, mate.”
Something snaps inside of Javier and he tries to punch me but I quickly duck. By now the referee’s seen it all and in one quick moment, he throws Javier out of the game. Javier shouts and kicks as a couple of his team mates drag him off the field so the game can go on.
How the tables have turned… The crowd boos him and Javier himself knows that he’s thoroughly disgra
ced himself.
But it’s not over. With seconds to go before the end, I have a single chance to win this for Anaheim, for myself and for those who love me. I step up to the ball, look at all the players between me and the goal. I close my eyes, and think back to my childhood when all I wanted to do was play soccer. This is what I’ve dreamed of all my life. Of being here, of being the savior in the dying moments of a match. Of being the hero everyone loves.
The referee blows the whistle and signals for me to take the free kick. On another day, I’d’ve decided in advance where I was going to hit the ball but this time I don't. Once again, he let instinct take over.
The ball goes up, a shining sun in the background, way beyond the vertical reach of the opposition players. And then, it starts drifting down. The goalkeeper stretches his six-foot frame all the way. Everyone in the stadium holds their breath for a timeless moment, and then, everything erupts.
The goalkeeper manages to reach the ball, it grazes his finger, but it isn’t enough. With six seconds to go in the cup final, the winning goal for Anaheim Knights is in the net.
My second goal of the game.
As I see the net ruffle, I turn around and rush to celebrate. Running past my team mates, past the coaching staff on the bench, I jump over the advertisement boards that separate the fans from the field. I know where she is. I don’t have to struggle to find her.
I lift Carrie up in my arms and kiss her. I don't care if the world is watching. This moment of redemption is the greatest moment of my life and I just have to share it with the one I love. Nothing exists for me in that moment except Carrie. Our image flashes over the Jumbotron and the whole stadium applauds.
I can feel Carrie getting self-conscious so I pull away.
“I told you I’d score one for you,”I say to her.
“And Daddy, you scored one for me too,” Harry says, tugging at my shirt.
“Of course, my lad. I did. I’d do anything for you two,” I smile, but tears threaten to fill my eyes.
Though the words come in a rush of emotion, I know them to be true. Sure I’m about to win the Cup and the MVP award, but this is the biggest prize of them all. I have my own family now. What I had always wanted. Finally the bad boy can retire. Late night flings mean nothing when true love has finally decided to show up in my life.
Epilogue
From the Anaheim Dispatch:
For a Monday evening, the street in front of Stats, a Santa Ana sports bar, is rather full. Hordes of paparazzi scramble at the entrance and media cameras take up space inside the bar. Some of the area regulars wonder if this new bar has just opened up, not realizing that it’s been in existence for more than thirty years.
Hard to blame them, though, as for far too long now, the bar’s been a failed establishment, running solely on old patrons and a few stray walk-ins.
All that’s changed since players from the American Cup champions Anaheim Knights have started frequenting the bar regularly. Especially, David Adams, the former star player and the newly appointed coach of the lauded team.
Fans can’t believe that just six months ago, David single handedly turned a certain defeat into a win in the dying minutes of the game, and in so doing, won the Cup. He’s put the Knights, a largely underdog team, in the hearts of sports lovers of America. Almost every fan has a Knights jersey somewhere in their closet.
Even more shockingly, Adams has announced his retirement from the sport. Many speculate that he could continue for another few years, but David wanted to go out on top. In a surprising move, the Knights also fired Coach Miller, who was accused of player mistreatment. David Adams has been appointed in his place, making the British soccer superstar the youngest head coach in the game.
When I put the paper down, and goggle at David, he looks at me and winks. Then he gives me a quick kiss before walking up to the small stage set up in front of the bar area. Lights illuminate him as a warm reception rises from the media and the fans.
“First of all, the ale is on the house. Drinks for everyone!” A loud cheer erupts as newly hired waitresses with trays full of beer glasses move through the crowd.
“Mad Dog rocks!” someone shouts. Mad Dog is the new nickname American soccer fans have bestowed upon David after his sensational display in the Cup Final, finally accepting him as one of their own.
“And please put your hands together, ladies and gentlemen, for the lovely author of this book, a person who is very special to me, Carrie Tucker!”
I stride on to the stage and it’s my turn to kiss David on the cheek. I may still not be exactly used to all these public appearances but it’s just a part of being in David’s life. The fact that he’s standing right next to me makes the job a hell lot easier.
