Soccer Tryouts - the Men’s Team

Even though you’ve missed the first tryouts, making your chances of walking onto the team slimmer than they were before, you figure attending this one is still worth a shot. After all, what’s there to lose from trying? You decide to head there a little early to make sure that you can make the best impression possible, so when you get into the locker room, there’s nobody else changing.

You psyche yourself up, blasting some Queen at full volume, and as you belt out the words to Don’t Stop Me Now, you start to feel pretty good about your chances. Sure, you’ve just been out of commission for two weeks, but you feel like you’re in top shape, and if the coach factors that into his decision? It would be a crime to cut you at that point.

You jog out onto the soccer pitch, which is unoccupied for the moment save for Coach Warren, who is standing by the sidelines, scribbling something onto his clipboard.

“What do you want?” Coach Warren asks gruffly as you approach, not bothering to look up from his clipboard.

“Coach Warren, my name is Alex. I was hospitalised for the last two weeks for food poisoning and a gastrointestinal parasite, and so missed the first tryouts, but I wanted to let you know that I’m still very interested in joining the team. I’ll do my best today to show you that I deserve-“

“Enough nattering. You miss the first tryouts, you’re not walking onto the team. That’s the policy, simple as that,” Coach Warren says.

You sputter for a moment, taken aback. From the coach’s words and attitude, it’s clear that he's a hard-ass that won’t be persuaded by any sob stories. It’s time to play to your other strength then - your talent as a player.

“Coach, give me a chance to show you what I’ve got. I think you’ll find that my skills are quite irreplaceable,” you say. “I swear, if there’s anybody on the team better at handling a ball than me, I won’t cause you any more trouble. Just give a fair chance to prove myself, like everyone else has got.”

“You’re really want to play, huh? That’s a real pity, because you’re not making the team. The decision's final.”

“Thank you for hearing me out,” you say to the coach through grit teeth. You could stay on for the tryouts today anyways, but it’s clear that this would only antagonise the old man further. Far better to just leave before you make an inalienable dent in your reputation. You begin to walk away, when the coach speaks again.

“You know what,” he says, almost laughing to himself. “If you’re so **** to play, you can join the girls over at the co-ed team. I think tryouts might be on the next pitch over.”

He slaps his thigh, clearly amused by his own joke, and you flush a little in embarrassment. But on second thought, would joining the co-ed team really be such a bad thing? You would probably get more ball time, and then there's the prospect of meeting fit, athletic girls interested in soccer too…

You start to change directions, turning away from the locker room and towards the far pitch. You avoid looking back, knowing that Coach Warren will be watching and judging you.