“Where’s Coach Kulti?” I overheard one of the girls ask in the locker room that evening as we got ready to head to the field for the start of the semi-final game.
“No clue,” someone else answered.
I kept my head down and continued stretching. Besides Gardner, I was the only one who probably had any idea that Kulti was sitting in the stands incognito. He had made the wise decision to ditch the beanie he wore all the time, and instead went for a white Corona cap I’d taken from my dad’s truck years ago.
With a plain T-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes, I felt pretty confident no one would have any idea who he was. When we’d gotten to the stadium, he hadn’t seemed worried about sitting alone, surrounded by people who would more than likely cause a riot if they knew who he was.
We’d taken his car and driver to the stadium at his insistence. He was supposed to be picking up a ticket that someone had gotten for him at the main gate. Right before I began walking toward the player’s entrance he’d asked, “Will your parents be here?”
Like my dad would ever miss a semi-final game. Ha.
Once I made it to the locker room, Gardner looked around at the girls. “Listen up, quick change to the starting roster: Sal, you’re in. Sandy, you’re sitting this one out,” he called out.
I didn’t miss the ugly groan that made its way out of the other player’s mouth. I sure as hell kept my face even, a talent I’d picked up from the master, Kulti. The truth was, I hadn’t cooled down even a little bit.
These assholes were going to bench me for freaking ‘political reasons’. Sure it sucked for Sandy who now wasn’t going to play, but that sure as hell wasn’t my problem. With the exception of the two times I’d been benched and the thing with my ribs and concussion, I’d played every single game from beginning to end. I had earned my spot. Plus, I wasn’t the only forward’s place Sandy could have taken. I had busted my ass to get what I had, on the field and off the field. On top of that, she was only twenty-two. There were a lot of things I’d let myself feel guilty for, but playing in a semi-final game instead of her wasn’t one of them.
From across the locker room, I spotted Jenny looking in my direction, but I still didn’t change my facial expression. Gardner went over some details and plays he wanted us to keep in mind as we went up against the New York Arrows.
One thought prevailed: I would rather do a dozen more press conferences and move to Brazil than be traded to New York.
They could even be press conferences like the one I had done at the beginning of the season.
Which finally made me wonder after all these months… Sheena had never said anything else about it or the video she’d planned on pulling together after the press conference from hell. What had happened with that? I’d worry about it later, for now my one and only subject of focus was the New York Arrows and their dumbass captain, Amber.
I hadn’t even begun dreading seeing her with everything else going on. Even now that I finally remembered, I still didn’t give a crap. If anything, it gave me that much more motivation to wipe the turf with her whiny black heart.
I could do this.
I closed my eyes and relaxed. Everyone had their own way of mentally preparing for games. Me, I had a gift for zoning things out and clearing my head. I didn’t need music to get pumped up. I just visualized our game and calmed down.
“It’s time, Sally,” Harlow tapped my elbow.
I opened my eyes and grinned up at her, smacking what had to be one of the tightest butt-cheeks in the world, and walked alongside her all the way to the field.
“You gotta tell me later how you got back in,” she whispered into my ear.
I smacked her butt once more, but it was more because I was so amazed at how muscular it was than for any other reason. “Magic.”
Magic would be the best way to describe how the game went.
‘Complete and total annihilation’ would work too.
From the moment we stepped out on that field, I felt it in my veins and on my skin. I’d swear it was in the air. There were more people in the stands than there had ever been. Down the field was the New York team. We did some more last-minute stretching, Gardner called us for another quick pep talk, and we took the field.
Within the first five minutes, Grace scored a goal.
Three minutes later, with a wild header from one of the girls who hadn’t said a word to me in over a month, I threw myself in the air and scissor-kicked the crap out of the ball, feet well over my head. It was Harlow barreling toward me that told me the ball made it in the goal for a point. As soon as I was standing, she had her arms wrapped around my knees and she was holding me up, jumping up and down.
I was still in her arms when I spotted them in the first row. They were on their feet screaming, the white Corona cap had a seat center field with a familiar-looking man wearing a jersey with my number on it right next to him. Next to that jersey was another one of mine, smaller and in a different color. Kulti, my dad and mom.
That second rush filled my chest. I wasn’t sure how he’d done it—I definitely had no idea how he managed to score those seats, and part of me didn’t want to know. But they were there together. Three of the people I loved most in the world, and they were acting like they’d won a billion dollars. Without a doubt in my mind, I knew Marc and Simon were also there somewhere cheering me on.
In the second half, New York scored one goal right from the top.
A Piper scored a goal after that, bringing the score 3-1. By some insane miracle, I snuck up the corner of the field and accepted a pass from Genevieve. I didn’t even understand how the ball made it to me, but I nailed a kick as hard as I could. My anger was fueled by the shove and “slut” taunt Amber had given me a minute before. We were kicking ass, so she could call me a slut however much she wanted.
We finished the game with one more last-minute goal that had our fans out of their seats cheering like crazy. Sure the stadium wasn’t packed like the men’s games were, but it didn’t matter. The fans we had were beyond dedicated and that more than made up for it.
The next hour went by in a blur of hugs and congratulations, and Gardner prattling about both the good and the bad in those ninety-five minutes. I showered and got out of there as quickly as I could, not in the mood for anyone but those three people in the audience.
I walked outside following high-fives and butt pats to some of the players on my way out, there were camera crews and journalists prepared, lights bright, microphones ready.
“Sal!”
“Sal!”
Big Girl Socks, on.
“Hi,” I greeted them all with an anxious smile, taking a step back when four microphones were shoved in my face.
“Congratulations on your win, can you tell us how the Pipers managed to do it?”
I summed it up for them: teamwork, great defense and quick thinking.
There were more and more questions. What I thought about this and that.
And then… “Where was your assistant coach tonight?”
“I wasn’t told,” I replied.
“Are the rumors regarding an inappropriate relationship between the two of you affecting your game?” someone else asked.
I bristled on the inside but managed to smile. “I would be distracted if there was something for me to be distracted about, but my only focus this season, like every other season, has been winning. That’s all.”
“So you’re denying that there’s something going on with you and Kulti?”
I’m in love with him and he thinks he feels something for me, I thought to myself but instead said, “He’s my best friend and he’s my coach. That’s the only thing I’m confirming.”
All I got in return were blank faces from the people hoping for something more dramatic. If only they’d been around earlier when I’d received and given the sweetest little kisses in the world from the man in question.
“Thanks for coming,” I said and made my exit, hustling past the other family members and fans who were waiting by the press. I shook some hands, gave a few hugs and waved at people I recognized.
It was that damned Corona cap I spotted first, as far away from the media as possible; next to him were my parents, Marc and Simon. It was my dad who saw me approaching first. He came rushing toward me, his face glowing. Dad grabbed me in a big hug and said the words that he used every time I made him exceptionally proud.
“You could have scored at least two more goals.”
“Next time,” I agreed, hugging him back.
My mom was next.
“You’re not leaving yourself open as much. Good job.”
Finally after my mom let me go, Kulti stepped forward before Marc or Simon could. He put a hand on my shoulder, his eyes holding mine steady and only the faintest hint of a smile on his mouth.
“Yes, oh wise one? What words of advice do you have for me?”
That small smile blossomed. “Your parents said it all.”
“Buenas noches, amores,” my mom said goodnight to both my dad and I before disappearing into my bedroom. My parents were spending the night.
Dad leaned back against the couch and sipped the beer he’d bought on our way home. Our group of six had all gone out to eat immediately following the game. He waited until the bedroom door clicked shut before saying, “Now can you tell me why Kulti wasn’t coaching tonight?”
The fact he’d made it almost five hours until finally breaking down and asking why the German had sat in the stands was amazing. I had to give him credit for holding onto the question so long when it had to be eating him up inside. “Yes.”
He exhaled, and I had to fight the urge to take the bottle from him and take a swig.
“He sat out today so that I could play. He’s sitting out the final so I can play then too,” I explained slowly. “The other girls have been complaining about how he’s playing favorites, so…” The last month of my life suddenly came down on my shoulders again, and all I could do was shrug helplessly.
Dad stared and then stared a little more. One of his eyelids started fluttering a little. “Tell me what happened.”
I did. I told him about how I’d been cleared to play, but how they’d initially said I was going to be benched.
Dad gulped down half the bottle in response. He looked about ready to pop. If anyone understood the magnitude of what Kulti’s actions meant, he did. “Sal…”
“Yes?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
He gave me a look. “You know what you need to do.”
“I don’t know.”
“You know.”
God, was this what talking to me was like? “Dad… I… I don’t know. I don’t even know what to think about all of it. We’re in completely different leagues. I’m me; he’s him. It would never work.”
He nodded, seriously. “I know. You’re too good for him, but I’ve taught you better than to be so conceited.”
Oh God. Why did I bother? I started cracking up. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Jeez.”
He smiled over and pressed the cool glass of the beer bottle to my knee. “Does he know about your little obsession?”
I gave him an ‘are you kidding me’ look that had him chuckling in response.
“I want to see them.”
“See what?”
“Your chicken wings,” he deadpanned.
I groaned.
He took it to another level when he started squawking.
“I’ve always known you were insane.”
Dad snorted. “I thought you were a tiger, hija mia.”
There he went. Leave it to my dad to bring up exactly what I’d been worried about. Had I really lost my guts? “I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t even know why he thinks he has feelings for me either, Dad. What am I supposed to do? He’s doing all these things and saying stuff, when he’s never even given me the idea that he thinks of me as anything more than a friend. What am I supposed to do?”
He gave me that look that said he wasn’t impressed that I was asking for his opinion. “Do you really want me to tell you?”
I nodded.
“When I met your mom, I knew exactly who she was. Everyone knew who she was. I’ve told you before, I didn’t talk to her first, she came up to me.” Dad smiled gently at the memory. “I didn’t have anything to offer her. I didn’t even finish high school and your mom was La Culebra’s daughter. It didn’t matter how many times I told her she could find someone better; she never left. If it didn’t matter to her that we would never be rich, then why should I push her away? I loved her and she loved me, and when you have love, you find a way to make things work.” He pressed the bottle to my knee again. “You can have anything you want in the world. Anything you’ve ever wanted, you’ve worked for, and I know that you know that. ‘I can and I will,’ remember?
“I’ll tell you this, too. I knew something was going on when you showed up at the house with him. No man is going to go visit your family because he’s bored. No one would spend so much time with you if he didn’t want more, and my birthday was months ago, Salomé.” He pointed at his heart. “Think with your heart, not your head. I’ve never known you to not take every opportunity you’ve ever been presented with. Don’t start passing on them now.”
