The First Soccer Match

Your alarm rings bright and early, and you spring out of bed, ready for action. It’s game day!

It takes you a couple minutes to get ready. As you brush your teeth and shower, you think ahead to the game against Kale, imagining all the ways that it could play out, and you start to feel psyched up.

Downstairs, with your duffel in tow, you meet up with Mars, who looks damn fine in shorts.

“How many times did you hit snooze this morning,” she says, greeting you with a smile.

“You just wanted to meet up unreasonably early,” you grumble back, but checking the time, you see that you’ll get to the pitch just in time for when Daphne called the team to assemble.

“As I recall, it was you who wanted to walk over together,” Mars says. “Besides, always better early than later on game-day, right?”

“You want to be there just on time,” you say. “Doesn’t help anyone if you’re standing where the ball’s going to be early, that just gets you marked faster.”

“You just don’t know how to make space,” she says, and the two of you fall into a comfortable conversation about the upcoming game.

At the pitch, you see that just outside the home team locker rooms, there’s already a small semi-circle of people standing around Daphne. It looks like you two were the last to arrive.

“Cutting it close there, Alex, Mars,” Daphne says, checking her watch. “I would have subbed you off today had you come even a minute later. Not joking.”

“She isn’t,” Charlie says. “I had to sit out my first two games when she first became Captain last year, because I have a bad habit of being late.”

Daphne nods. “On to the game today. As you all know by now, we’re going to keep 4-2-3-1 as our standard formation. I’m going to be honest. It’s a risk. You’ve seen the pros execute it and strangle out lesser teams with the flexibility it provides, but it also requires everyone to be on top of their game.

“We have a couple new faces in our defensive core. Mars, Valentine, hold down fort and play with your centre backs. We don’t have set pieces practiced well yet, but your instincts are good. Trust them. Charlie, Alex—the two of you have done well in practice, so bring your best today.

“Katie and Khloe. You complete the double pivot, and you know how to play off enemy teams with Charlie. If you can make it work with Alex today, we’re going to be stopping them every time it counts.

“Jason, Javier, I want to see deep runs and crosses today. You’re good, Jack, and you’re going to get there, but we’re going to play this way so that your decisions are easier.

“And finally, I’m going to need to be able to put the ball into the net when it counts.”

Daphne looks at each person in turn as she addresses them, and you hold her words close to your chest. This moment came up so quickly—you hardly feel prepared, and looking at the other faces around the room, you can see there are some nerves. Jack has his arms crossed and is quietly nodding to himself, while Mars and Valentine are leaning on one another, arms linked. The older players look more composed.

“I told you earlier that this formation is a risk. And mark my words, it is one. We could lose today, Kale is a good team, and there is no shame in that. But we can do better. I chose to take this risk, because I believe that we have what it takes to do this. We’re going to show them why Stonewall Never Bleeds today.”

She takes a breath, and turns around, opening up her duffel bag. From inside, she draws out kits. You see your name emblazoned on the back of the gray jersey, the number 2 embossed beneath it. “Here are your uniforms. The act of putting one on is called changing, because the moment the jersey goes on, you change. You are not just a student, a teenager, a player anymore. You become part of a team. You become unstoppable. Come on, hands in.”

With solemn silence, the eleven hands are placed into the centre of the circle.

“Go Greys!” Daphne cries, and the echo that follows is a triumphant roar, eleven hands flying skyward.

It’s time to play.