Shutout (14 page)

We all gasped. “Dan,” Mom warned.

“Diane. How could this possibly humiliate anybody? No one knows what happens at school committee meetings. Quick, Conrad, what happened at the last school committee meeting?”

Conrad shrugged. “Something boring?”

“Sean Calendar's dad asked that any book containing, and I quote here, ‘the F bomb' be removed from the high school library.”

“Sean Calendar? The kid who sells weed in the parking lot?”

“I don't know about Sean's extracurriculars, but yes. Who's talking about this at school?”

“Nobody,” I said.

“Exactly,” Dad said. He looked pleased with himself. “Anyway, it's a dishonest, corrupt, and completely moronic pledge, but we signed it and, in so doing, signed on to the corruption it implies. I guess you can see why I'm not all that sympathetic to everybody crying about it now.”

I could. But I still wasn't sure exactly how I felt. In a way, Dad was right, the varsity was almost daring the school to punish them—look at us, the perfect little girls' varsity soccer team, we don't get in trouble, that's for other kids. On the other hand, it did seem unfair. Like a really harsh punishment for what wasn't all that serious an offense. Except it kind of was.

I didn't know how to feel or what to think.

It only got worse the following morning. Right in the middle of homeroom, Ms. Allen came on the PA again, and this time it was the entire JV team she wanted to see.

The walk from my homeroom on the third floor down to the office seemed to take a year. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, but I couldn't help being afraid. I never got called to the principal's office. And I couldn't even rehearse a lie to get out of whatever trouble I was in because I had no idea what I could possibly be in trouble for. Were we going to have to provide an alibi for the other night?

Our whole team crowded into the principal's office, along
with Geezer and Beasley. All the adults had very serious faces on, which is never a good sign.

“Girls,” Ms. Allen said, “I know how fast news travels in this school, but I wanted you to get the full story from me. As you probably know, the girls' varsity soccer team had a party after their game on Tuesday night, and many of them came to school the next day showing obvious signs of having consumed alcohol. In accordance with the zero tolerance pledge, everyone who attended that party has been suspended from the next game, which, as you know, is the state championship. Coach Keezer?”

Geezer, dressed in sweats as she always was, said in her sandpapery, gruff voice, “Our opponent expects to play a soccer game on Saturday. Now, with the entire varsity ineligible to play, that leaves us with two options. One is to forfeit the game. The other one is to play the game with the only eligible interscholastic players we have.” She looked at us like she'd just said something significant, but for some reason, maybe because it was early in the morning, I just wasn't getting what she was saying.

Beasley spoke up. “You are Charlesborough High School's only girls' soccer team right now. And we've agreed to leave this decision in your hands, but what we're asking here is if you want to play for the state championship on Saturday.”

I don't know if all the air was sucked out of the room, or if it just felt that way because nobody was breathing.

“We're going to leave you alone and give you girls a few minutes to talk this over without us,” Ms. Allen said, and she and Geezer and Beasley walked out of the office.

The door shut with a click, and we looked at each other. Well, no. That's not true. Actually everybody looked at me.

Marcia asked, “What do you think?”

“I . . . it feels weird, like we didn't earn it,” I said, and I saw heads nodding. “I mean, I wanted to play in that game as a member of the team that got there.”

“But if someone had gotten injured,” Shakina said, “they would have called one of us up to take the roster spot. Would you have refused to play in the game if you were filling in for somebody who was hurt?”

“No. I guess I wouldn't. And how many state championship games are we going to get a chance to play in?”

“Three after this year,” Denise called out, and everybody laughed.

“Maybe, probably, I hope so, but we don't know. I guess in the end, I don't see how we can say no. Is there anybody who feels like they can't play?”

“Varsity's going to hate us,” Nina announced.

“Yeah,” Shakina said, “but at least they'll finally know our names.”

“I'm scared of playing for Geezer,” Marcia whispered, and we looked at the door, like maybe Geezer was on the other side of it listening with a stethoscope or something.

“Me too,” I said. “I'm scared of getting yelled at, I'm scared of playing a team so much better than us that we get humiliated, and I'm scared of the varsity girls hating us. More than they already do, in my case,” which got a laugh from everybody. “But I guess the thing I'm most scared of is sitting on my bed on Saturday afternoon listening to my brothers
being annoying and thinking, ‘I could be playing for the state championship right now.' I don't know how you guys feel, but that's actually scarier to me than any of the other stuff.”

I wasn't expecting everybody to cheer and carry me out of the office on their shoulders or anything, but I guess I wasn't expecting the dead silence that followed my little speech.

After what seemed like an hour, Marcia said, “So, uh, should we take a vote?”

“Okay,” Shakina said. “All opposed to playing the game, raise your hands.” Nobody raised their hand. “All in favor?” Everybody's hand went up, and suddenly we were cheering.

The door opened, and the adults came back in with big grins on their faces, even Geezer, which totally shocked me. “Okay, girls,” Ms. Allen said. “I guess your decision is pretty clear, but can you keep it down so we can run a school out here?”

“Call your parents,” Geezer said, “and tell them you have soccer practice today and tomorrow. I'll give you some time to get cleats and pads after school today, but be back here at three-thirty.”

I floated out of the office and through the rest of my day. When the day finally ended, I ran home and got my soccer stuff and ran back. Nobody else was there yet, and my heels were killing me from running so much, so I lay on the ground in the goal and did a couple of yoga positions and tried to shut my brain up until Marcia finally showed up and agreed to shoot on me.

Marcia got at least twelve goals past me. I was nervous about the game, but mostly, for right now, I was nervous about playing for Geezer.

If you made a mistake for Beasley, she took you aside and asked, “So what happened on that play?” and you told her the mistake you'd made.

If, on the other hand, you made a mistake playing for Geezer, you got reamed out in front of everybody. I honestly didn't know how Stephanie managed to play so many games without crying. I wasn't sure I'd be able to do the same if a goal went through and Geezer started screaming at me.

Finally the whole team was there, and some more girls lined up to shoot on me, probably because they saw me sucking out loud at stopping Marcia's shots and they figured they'd never get a better chance to get one past me. A bunch of the other girls were running passing drills.

Finally we saw Geezer walking across the field with
Beasley trailing behind her. Geezer looked at her clipboard, and we all stopped in the middle of whatever drill we were doing.

“Take a knee, girls,” Geezer barked, and everybody gathered around and went down on one knee, which was an incredibly uncomfortable position but apparently traditional. Beasley always just let us put our butts on the ground. One more thing that was going to be weird and different about playing for Geezer.

“I've seen you girls in the stands at every game, usually taking notes, so you probably know a lot about my coaching philosophy already.” We nodded.

“So I don't have to tell you that I hold my players to a very high standard.” Nobody gave even a ghost of a nod to this one. Geezer's voice sounded funny, and it could really only be a matter of time until she started to yell.

“I don't want you to think those high standards are only for the players. I have the same high standards for myself as well. What happened on Tuesday night was not just an error in judgment on the part of my players. It was a failure of leadership. I am the coach of that team, and it's clear to me now, as painful as it is to face, that my work with the varsity team has not been up to my standards. I coached a team that willfully disregarded the rules, a team that clearly has a great deal to learn about integrity and fair play.”

Okay, she was pissed at varsity. Big surprise. But why was she telling us this when we had a game to practice for?

“I grew up in Texas, and in Texas we have a saying: you dance with them that brung you. Ms. Beasley, this is your
team, and you'll be coaching them through their two practices and the game on Saturday.”

I felt like I was exhaling for the first time. We weren't going to have Geezer screaming at us! At least that was one less thing to worry about.

Beasley looked totally shocked. “But, Elaine,” she said in a quiet voice, “you can't do this. This is your last game!”

Geezer's voice actually broke when she spoke, which was something I certainly never expected. “Carolyn,” she said, “My . . . my career is . . . I have thirty years of coaching under my belt, and it's not defined by one game. My team ended their season on Tuesday just as sure as if they'd lost the game. This is your team, and it's your game.”

Beasley had come within about a half second of saying something bad about Geezer like eight times in the season, and it was clear that she didn't think much of Geezer's coaching. So this made it even weirder that they suddenly hugged, and Beasley had to wipe tears out of her eyes before she talked to us.

“All right, girls. We've got the biggest game you've ever played and the biggest game I've ever coached on Saturday. Let's get to work!”

When she said this, the cheer that had been building up ever since Geezer said she wasn't coaching finally burst out. We practiced until the lights came on at the field, and when Beasley finally let us go, I knew I should have felt exhausted, but I was so hyper I felt like I could play all night.

Which I guess was a good thing, because Shakina came up to me in the locker room and said, “Are you going to yoga tonight?”

“Hell yeah I'm going to yoga!” I bellowed. “I'm gonna show those bitches how a champion salutes the sun!”

“Whoa,” Shakina said. “You been chugging those energy drinks again?”

“Ugh, no way. I just—” I wanted to say something about how I would not possibly be able to sleep until Saturday if I didn't get to clear my mind with some yoga, but I guess I was still a little embarrassed about how much I liked the meditation part, even with Shakina, so what I ended up saying was “It's helped my heels so much that I can't imagine not doing it before such a big game.”

“Cool,” Shakina said. “Because my back is hurting.”

“I'll see you there, then!”

“Count on it,” she said, and walked away.

I bounced home, where Conrad was sitting on the front porch reading. “Wait a minute!” I exclaimed. “Are you actually doing homework? What's the occasion?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I figured if your sorry butt is playing in the state championship, pretty much anything is possible.”

I bounced my soccer ball off his head and compared him to a pretty nasty part of the human body. And then I realized why he was doing his homework. “You've got a crush on Ms. Cooney!” I yelled.

He obviously did, because he looked all around and said, “Shut up! That's totally not true.”

“Oh yeah, you just started doing the reading on your own. It has nothing to do with her leaning those C-cups over your desk and telling you she thinks you can do so much
better . . .” I was laughing, and Conrad threw his book at me and compared me to an even grosser anatomical part.

I was thrilled to have gotten the best of him, and then, as I opened the screen door, he said, “Amanda.”

“Yeah?”

“Seriously, good luck on Saturday.”

“Thanks!” I said.

Later, Mom dropped me at Charlesborough Yoga Studio. “You know, it's okay to skip this,” she said. “I don't want you pushing yourself too hard.”

“Mom, if I don't do something to calm myself down, I'm going to end up throwing Conrad down the steps just because I can.”

“Well, if it will keep my delicate son safe, then I guess it's okay,” Mom said, smiling.

I walked into the studio. Rosalind wasn't behind the desk, which was kind of a relief, because if she was there, I'd have to make small talk about the game, and all I wanted to do was not think about it for an hour and a half.

I didn't manage that, but for about twenty minutes in the middle of class, all I did was sweat and move and not think. It felt great.

Friday was a blur. I guess there were classes, and I'm pretty sure there was a long practice, but the whole time I was in goal in the state championship. It was hard to know that at some point in the state championship game, maybe a bunch of times, it would come down to me and some girl with the ball, and I wasn't going to be able to win every one of those. I had had only one shutout in the whole season, and that was playing other JV teams, not playing the best varsity players in the whole state.

I knew that we probably couldn't win this game, but I didn't want to be the one that made us lose. I couldn't stand the thought that on Monday at school, everybody else would get told they had a good game, even if they'd made a mistake that allowed the other team to get a shot on me. And if I let like six goals through, nobody would tell me I had a good game, at least not sincerely. I couldn't win the game for us, but I could lose it.