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I’m addicted to this moment. Some players love the euphoria of scoring a goal or the thrill of being ahead when extra minutes end.
For me, it’s the start of the game, when anticipation’s built to a breaking point.
I love scoring and I love winning. But in those moments, I already know what I’ve accomplished.
I know the ending.
Right now, I have a chance to determine it.
I’m in motion as soon as the ball leaves Emma’s foot, sprinting upward with the other forwards. I challenge the Northampton player who has possession, a sharp jab of her elbow landing on my ribs, letting me know she doesn’t appreciate the crowding. Too damn bad. The hit offers me an opening. I spin, taking the ball with me, and start running in the opposite direction from where she was headed, back toward Northampton’s goal.
Cassidy Jones is waiting for me. She was at CFOC; we chatted between clinics, but she’s no longer a friendly face. She’s nothing but a barrier now.
I kick the ball to Natalie, and she passes to Emma. After years of playing together, we’re in perfect sync. Emma sends the ball back to me before I enter the penalty arc. I take advantage of the split second of confusion among Northampton’s defenders as they scramble to keep up. A few seconds later, I score the first goal of the game and receive a whole lot of appreciation from the crowd.
Northampton doubles down after that, barely letting us past the center line. The only upside is they’re so focused on keeping us from scoring, they’re unable to press themselves.
The scoreboard is still displaying 0-1 when we leave the field for halftime. I take a seat on the bench and drink slow sips of water. Coach Taylor has her trusty whiteboard out, talking through suggestions of plays. I watch her marker slash, circle, and squiggle, the hectic motions as discombobulated as the thoughts in my head. They bounce between my dad and the game and the missed calls on my phone. I never used to consider myself a coward, but I’m now certain I am one. I’m fearless on the field. Off it, I’m scared to even answer a phone call.
I push thoughts of Beck away as I stand and return to the pitch. But they’ll only go so far. He’s a distraction, just like I told him I didn’t want.
We weren’t the only team discussing strategy. Northampton opts for a very different approach in the second half. They’re more aggressive, pushing toward the end of the field they were formerly protecting.
Anne and our other three defenders have their first real tests of the game as I try to slow Northampton’s offense along with the rest of the midfielders. The girl I’m marking passes to a teammate, and Emma is too far away to stop the ball. The Northampton player sends it flying toward the net, but Cressida is ready. She snags the ball midair, and I let out a long sigh of relief.
I turn to head back to the center line. It takes a while for everyone else to follow, and I frown as Emma falls into position beside me for the kickoff. We’ve still got a half hour of play left, but Northampton’s shot on goal seems to have invigorated my teammates.
Suddenly, it feels like we are playing in a championship. That extra gear I always find as I near the end of a game, like a shark moving in for the kill? I’m not the only one shifting, and Northampton is totally unprepared for us to all start sprinting faster and pressing harder. It’s an onslaught that earns us two more goals: a header from Natalie and an impressive scissors kick from Anne.
When the final whistle blows, I’m expecting the team to flock around Cressida, who managed a shutout, or Anne, who scored the most recent goal. But they don’t. They throng around me.
Once we finally disentangle for handshakes, Natalie falls into step beside me. “Three zip against Northampton? They might as well inscribe the championship cup already.”
I laugh. “If everyone keeps playing as well as they did today? Definitely.”
“Not much we wouldn’t do for you, Captain.”
“What do you mean?”
“Anne said today was a big deal to you. That your dad is here?”
An unexpected lump appears in my throat as Natalie looks at me curiously. There’s no worship in her eyes right now, just friendship.
“Yeah, he is,” I finally manage as we fall into line for handshakes.
I walk back to Lancaster’s bench to grab my gear and then spot Anne, who’s grabbing her own stuff. She looks a little nervous as I approach, so I pair the “Thank you” I was already planning on with a hug.
“Anything for you, Scott,” she replies with a smile.
I pretend to wipe tears away from my eyes, and she shoves my shoulder.
“Forget it. I take it back.”
I’m grinning as I head into the tunnel. The mood in the locker room is electric. Northampton is normally one of our toughest opponents. We just destroyed them. It bodes pretty damn well for our championship chances, which already looked excellent.
I shower and change into jeans and a T-shirt. I texted my dad earlier, letting him know where to pick up the game tickets, and also told him where we could meet after the game. He’s right by the oak tree I described when I leave the locker room, just to the left of the field’s exit.
Cressida, Anne, and Emma all trail behind me. I definitely didn’t buy Cressida retying her sneakers twice in an effort to delay leaving until I did, but I can’t blame them for being curious. I’ve met all their families. I spent a week with Emma’s two summers ago when my own family thought I was still at the U20 team training camp.
