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“I told Rylan—recruiting, can you believe it?”
“What do you think happens to all the kids who don’t get a spot on your teams?”
I was so set on being the best, I’d never thought about how many kids don’t even play after a certain age.
Jamison sighs. “Unfortunately, I can only instruct so many kids. I’m sure some talented kids have slid past me. But if I had more skilled coaches, especially for my girls, I wouldn’t need to worry about that.” He gives Calista a look.
“Imagine how different our lives would be if we hadn’t trained together,” I say without thinking it over. Calista not being in my life feels like a sledgehammer to my heart.
The game starts, and Calista excuses herself and goes over to Mandi. They cheer for the team, but Maisie is still on the bench. Each second, I grow more and more angry.
Maisie is such a great sport. She cheers on her team like Calista told her to do, and when they huddle, she gets in there even though she hasn’t had any playing time. She’s being a good teammate which is what Calista told her is the most important.
Noah sits in his folding chair with a pissed-off expression while my mom keeps shaking her head.
Maisie’s team is up by five goals before my dad yells, “Coach, why don’t you play some other players?”
“Hank,” Mom says and puts her hand on his arm to calm him.
But I’m ready to scream too.
“This is ridiculous,” Jamison says next to me. “They’re kids.”
“I know.”
Near the end of the first half, the other team scores three goals back to back because our players are whining and asking for water, complaining they’re tired. But the coach is just trying to pump them up and not making any changes to the lineup. By the time the whistle blows for half, I’m ready to give this woman a piece of my mind.
The second half starts, and when Maisie doesn’t come off the bench, I shout, “Seriously?”
The coach doesn’t look at our family, not even glancing in our direction.
Kara saunters over, looking Jamison up and down. “Mandi, we talked about the parents yelling from the sidelines.”
“Shut up, Kara,” Mandi says. “I pay the same dues to the park district you do, and my daughter deserves a shot out there.”
“Especially since the goalie can’t stop a ball. Did you see the other two goals go in? We’re tied now,” my nephew Crew says.
Kara gives him a dirty look.
I look to Calista, and she nods, biting her lip. Now that they’re tied, we’re both doubtful Maisie will get in the game. The other team calls a time-out and Calista jogs over, but before she reaches the coach, the whistle is blown again and Maisie is actually in the game.
My entire family hoots and hollers, clapping like a bunch of assholes to make it clear what they think of the fact that now Maisie is finally on the field, but it’s funny as hell at the same time.
“Go, Mais!” Noah gets up from his chair, his arms raised high.
Calista jogs back to me and gives me a one-arm hug. “I shouldn’t be this nervous for a nine-year-old, should I?”
I know how she feels. We’ve been waiting for this moment, and it’s finally come. Will Maisie remember what we’ve taught her? And I use we lightly, since it was mostly Calista.
The ball gets kicked in, and a glance at the scoreboard tells me there’re only two minutes left. The kids don’t pass Maisie the ball, purposely not kicking it her way.
“Maisie is open!” I yell.
“They know that,” Calista whispers. “Now I want to kick all these kids’ asses.” “I love that you’re feisty and protective of my family.” I kiss her cheek.
The other team gets the ball and takes a shot on the goal, but it bounces off the post.
Maisie’s teammate just kicks it to get it out of there, and it heads in Maisie’s direction.
