Double Fake (7 page)

Calvin glanced over at the sideline and noticed that Zero had not yet arrived. “Let’s suck it up,” he called to his teammates. “Let’s get it back.”

The Grotto’s three subs came running onto the field and took their spots on the front line.
This could be a problem,
Calvin thought. The opponents had the advantage of rotating their players frequently, getting fresh legs out there while the Little Italy players wilted in the heat.

And the pressure continued. Little Italy barely crossed midfield more than a couple of times, while the Grotto kept up a steady game of quick, short passes and runs at the goal. Calvin was ineffective from his position at sweeper, unable to help generate the offense. By halftime, the Grotto had a 2-0 lead.

Zero was standing near the bench as the players walked slowly off the field, needing drinks and rest. All seven players had been out there for the entire half.

“Where you been?” Calvin said sharply as he caught Zero’s eye.

“Bad traffic at the tunnel,” Zero said with a shrug.

“We’re getting our butts kicked.”

“We’ll be all right.”

Calvin moved closer to Zero and lowered his voice. “You better be ready to run with me, man. The rest of these people are out of gas.”

Coach came over to them and said they’d be at the midfield positions in the second half. “You two have to control the game,” he said. “We’ll put Angel, Orlando, and Mary in the front line, but that’ll leave our defense very vulnerable. We need to tie this game up, at least.”

Calvin nodded. He went to the bench and grabbed his jug of water. His shirt was soaked with sweat. He shut his eyes and poured a bit of the water over his head.

“Different game this half,” Coach said as the players huddled up around him. “We put the pressure on now. We control the field.”

It wasn’t easy, but the mix of speedier players did make a difference for Little Italy. Calvin felt the frustration of having a long, sustained attack thwarted by an excellent save by the goalie, and he shook his head in resignation as the three rested Grotto players trotted onto the field soon after to give some teammates a breather.

The first break came when Orlando made a steal at midfield and found Mary looping over from the sideline with a world of space in front of her. She quickly covered twenty yards with the ball, then crossed it cleanly to Angel, who fielded it without breaking stride and hammered it high and hard into the net. Angel had become a consistently dangerous scorer.

“There we go!” Coach Diaz called, clapping his hands. “Plenty of time left. Keep it going.”

Calvin crunched up the lower part of his shirt and wrung out a few drops of sweat. He looked over at Zero, who was staring intently toward the goal.

“Our turn,” Calvin said. “The ice is broken.”

Zero nodded. “I’m ready.”

When Calvin intercepted a pass a few minutes later, he dribbled two steps, then passed crisply to Zero. Mary was open on the wing again, and she darted across the center line and gave a quick juke, racing past a defender. She passed back to Angel who was trailing the play, and he chipped the ball ahead to Orlando.

Calvin was running nearly full-speed down the middle of the field, closing in on the goal box. Orlando’s pass was shin-high and caromed off Calvin’s leg, but Zero was in the right place and shot the bouncing ball toward the corner of the goal.

The Grotto goaltender dove hard, extending his hand and knocking the ball to the side. It cleared the goal but bounced off a defensive player’s leg and over the end line.

“Corner kick!” called the official, and Orlando ran over to the corner flag to put the ball in play.

About three minutes remained in the game. Orlando’s chip was high and soft. Calvin braced his forearm against an opponent’s back, tensed and ready to leap for the ball, hoping to head it into the goal. But in the scramble for the ball he was shoved backward, and the goaltender safely caught the pass, ending the threat.

“No foul?” Calvin shouted. But the ball was already in play, so he raced back up the field.

The Grotto players were determined to preserve the one-goal margin, forgetting about offense and repeatedly clearing the ball with long, solid kicks.

“We have to pick them apart!” Calvin said urgently. “Control the ball. Short passes. Let’s go!”

Peter Leung had come up from the sweeper position, giving an additional man to the Little Italy offense but leaving Julie unprotected back in goal. Only a minute was left as Peter came charging up the field one more time, chasing the ball as he ran.

Calvin knew that Peter’s ball-control skills were barely adequate, so he ran over and shouted for the ball. Peter obliged. Calvin stopped the ball and looked up the field. Both teams were spread out before him. This might be the last run of the game.

“Support!” hollered Zero as Calvin was met near the center circle by a couple of opponents. Calvin passed back to Zero, then moved to an open space so Zero could return the ball.

Orlando was open, so Zero passed it there and ran. Orlando had room and he dribbled along the sideline. Calvin stayed level with him, with Zero trailing behind.

The pass went back to Zero, who found Angel darting across the top of the goal box. Angel pivoted and shot, a high line drive that the goalie leaped for, punching the ball over the top of the goal and out of bounds.

Another corner kick. The players bunched up in front of the goal, shoving for position. Calvin ran into the mix, then swerved around Zero and sprinted toward Orlando at the corner of the field.

Orlando saw him coming and changed tactics, making the short, easy pass instead of chipping it into the air in front of the goal. Two defenders charged toward Calvin, but he deftly dribbled around them and reached the goal box.

“Here!” came Mary’s yell, and Calvin scooted the ball ten yards across the field, where his wide-open teammate fielded it and kicked it into the net. They’d tied it up!

Calvin, elated, ran toward Mary, grabbing her under the arms and lifting her into the air. Zero, Orlando, and Angel joined the embrace, shouting and raising their fists.

The official blew his whistle before the Grotto could put the ball in play. Game over. Little Italy was still in first place.

Calvin reached the sideline and yanked his T-shirt over his head, falling to the ground and lying on his back, his arms and legs spread wide. He was panting and sweating hard, but he’d never felt better. His teammates were re-energized, slapping hands and grinning in the wake of their spectacular comeback.

Suddenly Calvin felt a stream of cool liquid on his forehead and he opened his eyes and sat up. Danielle Rosado was standing there, holding a bottle of water and laughing. “Looked like you needed some cooling off,” she said.

“At least I’m not sizzling this time,” Calvin said with a smile.

“We brought you guys something.”

“Oh yeah?” Calvin got to his feet. Jessie was there, too, holding a paper plate covered with foil.

“Made some cookies for you and Zero,” Jessie said.

“How come?”

Jessie shrugged. “You know.... A thanks for the carnival. ”

“Yeah.” Calvin took the plate and peeked under the foil. “Chocolate chip. Beautiful.”

Calvin looked at Jessie now—black soccer shirt, pink hair band, mischievous smile. “Thanks,” he said. “These won’t last long.”

Jessie nodded. “Gotta warm up now.”

“Who you playing?”

“The flower shop. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Maybe we’ll watch,” Calvin said. “And eat our cookies.”

“You better watch,” Jessie said. “Could be you and us in the finals, you know.... I think you guys still need some education.”

“Maybe so,” Calvin answered. “But we did the educating tonight. We shut those guys down and came back.”

Jessie nodded as she trotted onto the field. “Not bad,” she said, looking back. “Not bad at all.”

G
ood job on the lawn,” Mr. Tait said as Calvin came in for lunch.

Calvin just nodded. He’d been in a sour mood all morning, edgy about that night’s game. Besides, the mower did the work; all he did was push it around.

Mr. Tait opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice. “Big one tonight, huh?”

Calvin felt a chill in his gut. He’d been trying not to think about it.

Wins over Luigi’s and Villa Roma had clinched the division title for Little Italy and set them up for a first-round playoff game against Hector’s Garage. They’d lost the regular season match to Hector’s, 3-2.

“Those guys are fast,” Calvin said. He blew out his breath. “It’s do or die tonight. Playoffs.”

Mr. Tait looked at his nails, which were perfectly trimmed and clean. “Nobody faster than you, from what I’ve seen.” The Taits had only been to a couple of games, but Calvin had played well both times.

Calvin stared at the chicken sandwich on his plate. He didn’t feel very hungry. “I’m just one guy.”

“You’ve got some good players.” Mr. Tait took a seat and looked closely at his son. “The pressure is always worse before a playoff game,” he said. “The intensity’s higher. And an athlete
always
thinks he’s going to blow it in the hours before a big match. The good ones simply keep focusing more and more intently as the game gets closer. Visualizing success. By game time, you’re in such a strong emotional zone that nothing can break through and deter you.”

Calvin looked his dad in the eyes and nodded. He’d been through things like that before, especially at track meets when the entire burden of winning or losing was on him. Dad was right—he had teammates to share the load with tonight. There was some comfort in that.

“Think positive thoughts, and I guarantee you’ll have your best game ever,” Mr. Tait said. “You’re primed for this. You’ve been working for it all summer.”

“That’s true.”

“And eat. I know how you’re feeling—like that sandwich is going to sit in your stomach all day like a rock—but you need fuel.”

Calvin took a bite and chewed about a hundred times. Then he swallowed hard. He set the sandwich on the plate and stared at it.

Six more hours until game time.

 

Calvin and Zero tried to make the afternoon go quickly, but it dragged. They went to the middle school and shot baskets on the blacktop court, playing a few games of O-U-T instead of going one-on-one, which would have drained too much energy.

Then they went down to the high school, crossing the parking lot and through an opening in the chain-link fence behind the football field and the track. There was a thick cluster of trees beyond the fence for about twenty yards, then a steep, sudden drop. The cliffs.

The cliffs ran for much of the length of Hudson City, dropping at a sharp angle to the flat area along the Hudson River. Only four streets ran down to the flats—First and Sixteenth at the opposite ends of town, and Franklin and Ninth, more or less at either end of Hamilton Park along the river.

From this point above the cliff, the boys had a clear view across to New York City. The cliffs weren’t steep enough to be dangerous, but most of the mile-long stretch was undeveloped—just trees and boulders and narrow paths. It was a good place to while away an hour or so, watching the boats on the river and the traffic on Palisades Avenue running from Jersey City to Hoboken. It was a bit of an oasis amid the glass and steel and concrete of one of the world’s busiest metropolitan areas.

“We gotta get the jump on those guys tonight,” Calvin said, tossing a stick down the hill at a rock several feet away. He missed. “We always seem to be falling behind to good teams and then scrambling our way back. Would be nice to get an early lead for a change.”

Zero kept looking at the river. Then he turned toward Calvin in a hurry and said, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“I wasn’t listening.”

“I know. I said we need to start fast.”

“When?”

“
Tonight
. In the game.”

“Oh.”

Calvin leaned back against a tree. All he could think about was the game. Seemed like Zero hadn’t given it a second thought.

“Don’t worry so much,” Zero said. “We’ll rise to the occasion. We always do.”

“Do we?”

“Usually.”

Calvin picked up a pebble and fired at the rock again. This time he hit it, and the pebble bounded down the hill.

“Nice shot,” Zero said, with just a touch of sarcasm.

Calvin frowned. He had a lot of energy to burn. He needed to keep it in check until tonight.

 

They arrived at halftime of the first playoff game. Bauer Electric had a 2-0 lead over the Grotto and appeared to be comfortably headed for the finals. A big, noisy crowd was on hand to watch, filling the small bleachers and lined up along the sidelines.

Calvin hadn’t eaten dinner. All he’d ingested since that chicken sandwich at lunchtime had been a nectarine and a glass of orange juice. There was a light breeze and the heat had eased off a bit. The temperature was in the low eighties.

Zero and Calvin set their cleats and their game shirts on the lowest step of the bleachers and walked to the sideline to watch the second half.

The Grotto scored a goal and seemed to steal the momentum for a few minutes. But then Danielle Rosado made a breathtaking series of fakes and found her cousin Johnny wide open for a goal that quickly deflated their opponents. Jessie scored again a few minutes later.

By then, the Hector’s Garage players were doing some warm-up drills on the grass near the refreshment stand, decked out in lime green jerseys and shouting in Spanish and English.

Calvin looked around for his teammates. Peter and Julie were talking in the bleachers, not even watching the game. Angel and Orlando were stretched out on the grass, looking at the sky.