Falling in Love (33 page)

As rigor mortis seemed about to set in, Darcy slapped my shoulder and smiled. “She was going to tell you on Thursday but thought you should get
some
sleep last night.”

I turned to her, pleading, “Would you?”

She laughed and shook her head. “You know better.” She slapped me again and said, “Let’s go kick some ass, and then you won’t have to worry out it.”

My worries seemed over quickly as it appeared that the Banshees had also come to kick some ass. They soon caught us off guard by using our prime tactic against us. Their captain was calling audible “plays.” Within ten minutes we were down 2 to 0. Although Paula was seething she soon made enough changes to stop the bleeding, and I went from cruising around to giving the game everything I had. How much more damage could I do then had already been done?

But the Banshees then went into a packed defense, making sure that no one scored, not them, not us. We attacked their wall only to continually be driven back. Paula and Darcy started shooting from outside the penalty box, trying to draw out the defense but the Banshees didn’t budge. Then in an incredible move, Darcy appeared to be taking a shot but put so much spin on the ball that it angled off to Paula who gunned it from the corner. 2 to 1.

That loosened up their defense and suddenly both teams went on the offense in what became the greatest game I’d ever seen. The momentum seemed to shift constantly as one team would make a great play and the other would come right back at them.

But with less than a minute left in the game, we were still coming up short, losing 4 to 3. While the Banshees tried to run out the clock, I managed to tackle the ball and get it out to Paula and our last attack was on. It seemed to end when Darcy kicked an incredible shot but Rachel, the Banshee’s goalie, got enough fingers on it to deflect it to the side and all seemed lost. Then Christine came out of no where to head ball in for a goal and we tied the game.

Both teams were exhausted but determined to win. In the overtime, the Banshees scored first and once more we were playing catch up. With only a few precious seconds left, Paula called a final charge. I sprinted down the field but stayed near the touchline away from the furiously fast passes between Paula, Darcy and Christine. I’m sure I was the only Wildcat willing to lose the game in overtime rather than have me single-handedly lose it in a shootout.

Determined not to give us an open shot, the Banshees closed in around the goal. With almost no time left, Darcy got the ball to Paula. Paula didn’t really have a shot but with only seconds left, her attempt was the only one we were going to get. I raced toward the goal, hoping for a rebound. But then Paula passed the ball back to Darcy, despite the wall of defenders between Darcy and the goal. Darcy didn’t even tackle the ball but kicked it on the fly. Incredibly, the ball threaded two defenders as it headed toward the far corner of the goal. I had never seen a shot like that, not on TV, not ever. I was excited that Darcy might pull off one of the greatest shots ever. But my amazement and ecstasy turned to horror when I saw that the ball was going wide, way too wide. I couldn’t believe that Darcy would miss by that much.

Until I was shocked to realize that it wasn’t a shot but a pass. To me! The defense was so bunched up toward Darcy, Paula and Christine, that I nearly had an open net. Great idea. Only I could never get to the ball! I frantically pounded my exhausted legs. But I had been right. I couldn’t make it! With the ball about to sail by me, I desperately kicked my legs out in front of me and took flight. I felt the ball brush off my toe before I crashed to the ground and somersaulted toward the goal post. The crowd erupted into a deafening roar as the buzzer blared. I didn’t know if the screaming was because we’d scored or because the Banshees had won.

Dazed and in pain, I stared through blades of grass at the goal where the ball was supposed to be. It wasn’t there and I was crushed. We had lost. Yes, I had failed again. But for the first time in my life I didn’t feel shame. I’d tried my best and had just come up short.

As I struggled to my feet, Darcy leaped on top me, nearly knocking me over. “You’re a Star, Sherry!” she screamed. “An absolute Star!” Then the Wildcats all crushed me with hugs as we plummeted to the ground. I glanced again at the goal. In the far corner was the ball. It must have ricocheted off the near goal post. I knew that the score was all Darcy’s pass. Few people on this planet could have even attempted that pass and maybe only Darcy could have pulled it off. I had barely touched the ball. But I still loved my whole team smashing me to the ground with hugs.

Then I heard Rita scream, “We’ve got them now. We’re going to win this.” And it hit me! We had only tied the game! Suddenly, the whole game, the whole season, the championship—and my whole life—was down to penalty kicks!

My worst nightmare had happened! Paula’s words throbbed in my head, “If it comes to a shootout, we’ll need five.” It can’t be! Win or lose, I don’t care. Just don’t put it all on me!

Neither team bothered to huddle. They knew what they had to do! Except me! I knew exactly what I couldn’t do. I probably couldn’t even walk onto the field!

The Banshee captain kicked first and scored. Once again, we were behind. Paula led off for us. For what seemed like forever, Paula stood and stared at Rachel, her former closest friend and teammate on every one of Paula’s Olympic and World Cup winning teams. Paula seemed to turn her head ever so slightly, inadvertently signaling that she was going to the left. Rachel didn’t buy it. As Paula’s toe touched the ball, Rachel leaped to the right. But Paula drilled it straight down the middle. If Rachel had just stood there, the ball would have hit her in the chest. Instead she had flung herself into mid-air as the ball bore into the net. As always, Paula won. Score tied.

One shot later, the Banshees were ahead again.

Rita followed and showed why she was once a top midfielder. Smash! Tied again.

The Banshees third kicker tried to stare down Rita only to blink first as Rita deflected enough of her shot to send it over the crossbar. Score still tied.

Christine came next. She turned Rachel into a defensive player as she began a slow dance as if fainting to both sides. Then in an instant, her powerful leg smashed the ball into the right corner of the net. Rachel had barely seen it. A huge scream erupted. The Wildcats were finally, finally, ahead.

Like the others, Christine sprinted back to embrace all the kickers. Except me. I stood to the side mesmerized by these women’s cool and awesome talent. How on earth did I ever think I deserved to be one of them?

Rita got a hand on the next Banshee’s shot but not enough of it. It wasn’t pretty but it still counted. Score tied again.

Darcy strode onto the field with her eyes on fire. In the box she defiantly stared at Rachel. It became obvious that Darcy wasn’t faking left, she was going left! Was she crazy! I couldn’t believe her ego! Did she think she was Babe Ruth, pointing to the center-field fence? Was Darcy still trying to exorcize her Olympic demons? By challenging a Gold Medalist! It was too crazy for me. It had to be the ultimate fake! Darcy had to be going right! But before Darcy even touched the ball Rachel was sprinting to the left. This was going to be so close. It was! By seemingly less than an inch all around, the ball slithered into a tight corner between the goal post, the crossbar and Rachel’s outstretched hand. An unbelievably awesome kick! Wildcats up one again.

Darcy screamed “Yes!” The crowd roared. As she dashed off the field, I wondered if Paula would reprimand Darcy for her Babe Ruth challenge. But they just hugged in ecstasy. Maybe Paula knew that Darcy needed that challenge to kick her best, or was faking it, or whatever. These women were so beyond my thinking that it was a joke for me even try to figure them out.

The Banshees’ top scorer kicked last. I couldn’t watch. With my eyes clinched shut, I waited, hoping that for once in my life I might get a free ride. Just miss Banshee! When the silence became excruciating, I looked. Whack! She made it look easy. Another goal! Scored tied again. And no one was left but me!

My worst nightmare had happened! Everything was now down to the biggest loser on earth! Miss Sherry the Disaster!

I couldn’t move! I was too petrified! Paula marched over to me and yanked on my jersey collar, twisting it so tightly I felt like I was choking. She glared at me. Though I was taller, she seemed to tower over me as she seethed, “You can make this shot! So go do it!”

She shoved me onto the field so hard that I almost fell down. It was pure Paula. She didn’t urge. She didn’t encourage. She demanded.

I managed to stumble out to the penalty box and even put down the ball, which trembled in my hands. As I stood up, I felt dizzy and queasy, about to vomit. My head throbbed. My heart pounded so hard I felt like I was going to have a heart attack or bust a blood vessel. I gasped for breath but there was no air anywhere on earth. I waited to pass out. I didn’t. Kick the ball into the stands! Just end this excruciating agony! I was going to miss it anyway! So why bother! Die, cry, something! Just end it! Anyway!

I clenched my fists to keep my hands from shaking! But then my fists shook! I began hyperventilating so badly, I waited to pass out. But I didn’t pass out!

I looked at Rachel. Her eyes were piercing, slicing through me, paralyzing me. Her head shook slowly. “No way, Rookie!” she spat. “Not past me!”

Rookie! If only I was that. How about Joke! A junior high school player up against an Olympic Gold Medalist!

Somehow, my throbbing ears heard Darcy’s voice. “You can do it, Sherry. You can do it!”

From somewhere in the stands, I heard Dede’s softly projected voice. “Kill it, Sis.”

I tried to concentrate. Kick the ball straight at Rachel, like Paula. But if Rachel didn’t move, I’d look like an idiot. But strategy was futile. I couldn’t kick that ball. I couldn’t even move. I could only stand there trembling!

Try, Sherry! There is no shame in losing if you try. Bullshit. You’ll still be a loser.
But Paula hadn’t said, “Go win this game.” She knew I couldn’t do that. She had said, “You can make this shot.” Of course, I could. Countless times in practice. But not while feeling so nauseous that I wanted to die. But I had to somehow end this horrible choking and gasping.

Then it occurred to me. What if I did nothing? Every goal I ever scored had been done solely by my feet, reacting before I could think about what to do.

But this wasn’t some instant reflex. That ball was lying there, staring at me. It didn’t matter, I had no choice. This kick was going to be done by my feet alone or not at all. If I missed the ball completely and made a complete fool of myself, then so be it but there was no other way.

Having made this decision, everything then began swirling into some surreal dream. As if not a part of me, my feet stepped forward. Then I felt my right foot against the ball and it shot to the right as Rachel surged toward the ball. I knew she couldn’t get to it. Then in one terrible, painful moment, I realized why. The ball was heading for the outer edge of goal post. Horrified, I waited for it to bounce off the post and complete my loser life. But at the last moment, like countless times in practice, the ball hooked inside the post and buried itself deep into the net. I couldn’t believe it! We had won! And I had scored the winning goal!

I tried to jump for joy only to realize that I was already several feet off the ground as I let out some primal scream that had been a lifetime in coming. The stadium was sheer pandemonium and then my teammates were hugging me and slapping me and carrying me off the field.

The surreal dream continued in a blur of girls, women, boys, men, asking me for autographs or asking me questions or wanting pictures taken with me. Were they crazy? With all the great players on this field? I didn’t care. For one precious short moment, I got to act like a winner and I loved it, basked in it. No matter how far I crashed back down in my life, I would always have this one wonderful magical afternoon when I wasn’t total loser.

Then somehow, I found myself in a cab beside Paula listening to the Wildcats rendition of Queen’s, “We are the Champions,” singing out, “We are the Champions. Of New York!” Then Paula yanked my head toward her. She was again in my face with her eyes flaring the same fire they had on the field but the rest of her face was soft, rosy and beaming. She declared, “Sherry Johnson, you are a champion, and don’t ever let anyone tell you any differently. Especially you!”

An awesome surreal dream! And I never wanted to wake up. Only I did. When I saw everyone pouring out of the cab in front of Callahan’s, I felt slapped on the face. The greatest day of my life was destined to end in disaster! And become the worst, and maybe the last, day of my life! I had to run to a group, to be with my own kind. I wasn’t a Wildcat, not on the field and sure as hell not in a bar.

“No!” I screamed and everyone swiveled around startled. I laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. But I’ve got to be somewhere,” I said. “This was great, really.”

“Bullshit,” declared Rita and Christine, their arms pinning me between them. “You are going with us.” They were all but carrying me inside when Paula stopped them and they released me.

As the other Wildcats dove into the bar, Paula turned to me. “Sherry, you don’t have to drink if you don’t want. Nothing will happen to you. I promise. We just want you with us.”

Paula held the door open. “Come on, if only for a little while.” How could I turn that down? Of course I wanted to be with them. Paula didn’t know me but I knew her. I believed her. I did what she said.