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Subject: {ASSM} NEW Playing the Game III: The Competitive Edge, Ch. 17
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And Sean Porter's happiness quotient goes up again...
Enjoy!
RCM
Rev. Cotton Mather
Senior Pastor,
Church of the Erotic Redemption
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ReverendCottonMather/www
http://www.storiesonline.net
**If I had to do it all over,
I'd do it all over you**
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<1st attachment, "CE17.txt" begin>
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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather. This
story is the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or
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(copyright 2004, Rev. Cotton Mather)
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THE COMPETITIVE EDGE:
PLAYING THE GAME, BOOK III
by Reverend Cotton Mather
- 17 -
WHY SEAN IS HAPPY
There was a light but insistent tapping at the door. The noise
finally insinuated itself into my consciousness, and I struggled to
wake up enough to not do myself bodily harm when I stood. Kayla was
lying next to me, one arm thrown across my chest. I gently picked up
her arm by her wrist and slipped out of bed. I carefully put her arm
down on the mattress and made sure she was covered. I found my
running shorts and pulled them on, and then I stumbled over to the
door and looked through the security scope.
Luke was standing outside the door, shifting from foot to foot as he
continued to tap at the door.
"Arright, arright," I mumbled as I removed the chain and opened the
door for him. He slipped inside quickly, and I closed the door again
and relocked it.
Luke glanced over at my bed. Kayla was awake, but was huddled under
the blanket quietly.
"Dude, I can't sleep on the floor again," said Luke. "I need my bed
back tonight."
"Oh, man, you gotta do this for me," I began. I stopped, though.
Even to my ears it sounded like whining. Get a grip, Porter, I
chastised myself. "Yeah, okay. I'm sorry, man. We'll work
something out."
"I hardly slept a wink all night," Luke grumbled. "Fuckin' Brad
snores." He glanced at Kayla apologetically. "Oops. Sorry," he
said to her.
Kayla just smiled at him sweetly. It was enough to make Luke blush
just a little.
"I'm just gonna... uh... grab something out of my suitcase..." Luke
shuffled over to his suitcase, where it looked like there had been a
small explosion of clothing, books, and shoes. He reached in and I
saw him grab a pair of white briefs. He crumpled them up and tried
to stuff them in the pocket of his jeans without Kayla seeing them,
and then he kind of slide-shuffled back across the room to the door.
"I'm going down to get something to eat," he said. "Spencer and Brad
are already down there. You should probably come down, show your
face around, Sean."
I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand between the beds.
"Yeah, okay, give me about five minutes," I said.
Luke nodded, unlocked the door, and opened it just enough to squeeze
out.
"I'd better get in the shower," I said, almost to myself. I glanced
at Kayla, and saw she had a teasing, pouting expression. She threw
back the covers so I could see the full effect. She had put her
babydoll top back on, but hadn't bothered with the panties. Her legs
were together, knees slightly bent and to the side, the pale hair
between her legs plainly visible. Her rosy nipples were not
disguised at all by the filmy material of her nightie, merely veiled
and desirable. She managed to look demure and incredibly sexual at
the same time. How did she do that?
That circuit breaker in my head clicked back on. Shower. Go
downstairs. Breakfast with the team. Don't give the coaches any
reason to be suspicious.
I somehow found my way into the bathroom. Focus, Porter. I turned
on the water and adjusted the temperature. I shucked off my running
shorts and stepped into the tub enclosure. I put my face up into the
spray from the showerhead and reached for the shower curtain to pull
it closed.
Instead of plastic, my hand found flesh. I looked over, water
streaming down my face and obscuring my vision, but I could see well
enough to recognize my Luscious, now deliciously naked, stepping into
the tub with me.
"Want me to wash your back?" she asked. I could hear the pleasure
in her voice. She knew she surprised me, and she was pleased with
herself for being able to do so.
"You can wash my back if I can wash your front," I said, doing my
best to leer at her through the water in my eyes.
"Deal," she replied. She reached around me for the soap. Her
breasts sliding along my wet skin got the blood flowing, away from my
brain and to my cock. I tried turning to face her, intending on
taking her in my arms, but she shook her head. "Uh-uh," she said as
she turned me back around. She began to rub the bar of soap across
my shoulders, and she used her other hand to spread the suds around
and down my back.
It would have been very soothing if I hadn't had such a hardon.
Feeling my cock bouncing up with my heartbeat wasn't exactly
relaxing, especially when I felt Kayla rubbing the soap across my
asscheeks and down my thighs.
I could only put up with that kind of treatment so long before I had
to turn around and reciprocate.
"Oh, is it time to rinse already?" she asked with a smile.
I couldn't even reply. I took her head in my hands and kissed her,
and she moved in closer to me. I dropped one hand down to take
possession of her breast, and I felt her cheeks tighten as she smiled
through our kiss. She put her hand on mine and gently pulled it away
from her soft boob.
I stopped kissing her and looked at her questioningly. She placed
the bar of soap in my hand.
"There," she said. "Now you're prepared."
She guided my hand back to her breast and lifted her mouth for
another kiss as she pressed my hand, still holding the soap, against
her flesh.
The soap made everything a lot more slippery, and it wasn't long
before we were both exploring each other freely.
Finally, she gasped. I was holding her ass with one hand, my other
hand behind her neck, and she was pulling on my cock.
"Why don't you find a good place to put this thing while you finish
washing my front?" she suggested.
She lifted up on her toes, and I crouched down a little so that we
could connect. I felt the tip of my cock nestle between her moist
pussy lips, and as I pushed up she lifted first one leg, and then the
other, as I pushed her back against the wall for leverage.
All pretense of washing was thrown aside, and we concentrated on
inducing pleasure to each other in this new setting for us. I thrust
up hard into her, and I felt my cock slide along her hot and
welcoming walls, until I was firmly seated deep inside her. Kayla
reciprocated by flexing her legs in concert with my efforts, as
anxious as I was to feel me encased. The water from the shower was
hitting the small of my back and cascading down, its flow interrupted
by Kayla's legs entwined around me. The floor of the tub was a
little slippery, keeping me from gaining a good grip with my feet,
but I still managed to pound into her with some force. The delicious
friction we achieved moved us inexorably down the road we both wished
to travel.
Before long I felt the familiar tightening in my balls, and I
hunched up against Kayla even harder, trying to get as deep into her
as I could. I felt my cock trying to expand against the squeezing
walls of her pussy, and my semen spilled out to coat her insides in
spasmodic release.
"Oh, God, oh, God, I feel it," she huffed, and the hot injection I
gave to her sent her over into her own orgasm. She threw her head
back, her wet hair plastered to her forehead and her cheeks, and she
cried out softly as she gave herself to her climax.
She hung on to me desperately as the waves crashed through her, her
arms around my neck and her legs beginning to hang a little limply
from my hips. I stayed pressed inside her through my own orgasm,
wanting to feel her heat on me for as long as possible, but
eventually I had to withdraw. I stepped back, and she slumped down
to regain her feet as she loosened her grip on me.
"That was so... nice," she said a little tiredly.
"What a way to wake up," I said by way of agreement.
She looked up at me through her eyelashes. "I've got lots of ways
to wake you up, love."
With the water still pounding on me, I smiled at her. "I'll just
bet you do," I said.
__________________________________________________________________
Thirty minutes later, freshly showered, freshly shaved, and freshly
boffed, I was standing in the buffet line. I was late, but even an
undertaker wouldn't have been able to iron the smile off my face. I
was happier than I had been since I left to go to Florida. Kayla was
lingering upstairs until Keisha and Danielle picked her up. Pick
just looked at me as I gathered up a full tray and joined Jesse,
Bryan, and Brad at a table.
"And why is Sean so happy this morning?" asked Jesse.
I didn't answer him. Instead I concentrated on my orange juice.
"Oh, yeah," he said with a grin. "I remember now."
Nothing more was said about why I was so happy, which was just as
well. Too many people probably already knew.
I was just finishing up my breakfast when Luke grabbed a chair from
the next table and pulled it up next to me. Nearly everybody else
had already finished, and some of the guys had left the restaurant to
get their gear.
Very quietly, Luke said, "You've got to come up with some other
arrangement, Porter. I ain't sleeping on the floor again in their
room."
"Yeah, okay," I said. "Just keep your voice down." I took a last
forkful of scrambled egg. My tank had been empty, but I hadn't
realized it until I started eating. I didn't want to overeat and
feel stuffed at the start of the game, but I was having trouble
stopping. I guess I built up an appetite overnight, I thought to
myself. It made me smile to think of how that was accomplished.
I started thinking about how I was going to keep Kayla to myself all
night and still let Luke use the room. I needed a plan, and I needed
it soon.
___________________________________________________________________
The group of us took the elevator up to our floor, and Luke and I
split off to go to our room. I knocked before inserting the key.
"It's me, sweetie," I said softly as I opened the door.
Kayla was dressed and sitting on my unmade bed, brushing her hair.
She smiled at us as we came in. Luke went over to his pile of stuff
and began packing his gear bag. We were due downstairs in about ten
minutes to board the bus to Washington, D.C. and the Robert F.
Kennedy Stadium for our semi-final game against North Carolina.
"When is Keisha coming?" I asked.
"She should be here in about fifteen or twenty minutes," she said.
"I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything to eat," I said. Sometimes I
could be pretty thoughtless, I chastised myself.
Kayla smiled. "That's okay, Sean. There's lots of food at the
stadium, I'm sure." She held up her purse and pulled out some paper
money. "See? I'm all set."
"I still feel bad," I said. "I really don't mean to be so
thoughtless."
She laughed. It wasn't quite how I wanted to make her laugh, but I
still enjoyed hearing it, even if it was at my own expense. "You are
incredibly silly," she said to me.
"Jeez, you guys," said Luke a little disparagingly. He was at the
door, gear bag in hand. "Come on, Porter, we've got a bus to catch."
"Yeah, okay," I said. "Just give me a minute, okay?"
Luke stepped out the door. I sat down next to Kayla and put my arm
around her shoulder. "I've got to go," I said.
"I know. I'll be watching. Play your best."
I kissed her softly. "I'll do what I can," I said.
I got up and, just before the door closed, I gave her a small wave.
Kayla smiled and waved back at me. Just that vision was enough to
carry me through my day.
Luke was in the hall, waiting for me. As we walked toward the bank
of elevators, he said, "So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know, dude. But I'll come up with something," I said.
It was still two hours until game time, and as I stepped onto the
bus I was glad there was so much time to prepare. I was feeling
stuffed, and I was going to need that couple of hours to try to
digest some of my breakfast before I had to play. I took one of the
rear seats in the bus and stretched out flat on my back, feeling like
I needed to try to force my stomach muscles back into their normal
position. I worked my back and stomach with isometrics on the way
over to Georgetown in an effort to ease the distended feeling in my
gut.
It was only about a twenty-minute ride. I was feeling a little
better, probably from increasing my blood flow through my stretching.
Whatever works, I said to myself as I followed my teammates shuffling
down the center aisle of the bus. We grabbed our gear bags and
walked to the locker rooms below the stadium.
After a quick strategy session, we dressed for the game and walked
up the ramp from the locker rooms, up under the stands, to the field.
It was a very big stadium, but it didn't bother us. We had spent the
previous week at home practicing in our own football field, getting
used to seeing row upon row of bleachers all around us. The
difference was that these bleachers were about half full, whereas the
ones at home were pretty much empty.
Even so, we took our warm-ups like we did every day, and we tried
not to let the stadium or the crowd get to us. North Carolina,
several hundred miles closer to Washington, D.C. than Gainesville,
had quite a few fans in attendance. There was a large contingent of
Tarheels blue and white across the bleachers near the centerline, and
only a smattering of Gator orange and blue. School was in session
for us, so I doubted any students would have made the trip. Besides,
soccer wasn't really much of a spectator sport; even at home our
crowds were meager at best.
Pick gave us our starting positions, and I was not surprised to find
myself playing midfield again. North Carolina won the coin toss, so
they started with the ball. They had seen me in the middle, and they
were anxious to test our right defensive side.
They might have known my game, but they obviously didn't spend
enough time studying Spencer's game. He easily rebuffed their first
foray into our territory with an easy takeaway from his spot at right
midfield. He passed the ball over to me, and I switched fields on
them, feeding the ball up on my left to Bryan. He and Jesse worked a
two-man game to move the ball deep into Tarheels territory, but
neither of them could manufacture a good shot at goal. North
Carolina's stopper raced over to cut off a crossing pass attempt, and
he snagged the ball and took it up the middle for several meters
before passing it off to one of his midfielders.
North Carolina was a tough, experienced, savvy team. They showed a
lot of patience and poise. They didn't let our powerful front line
push them around, and they didn't panic after we scored our first
goal, at about the twenty-minute mark. Instead, they put the ball
back in play and began another set play with their offensive unit.
They didn't force it, they just let the game unfold, and it paid off
for them. In the 32nd minute they tied it up, and in the 41st minute
they took the lead on a beautifully executed corner kick. The kick
arced up in the air and curved from the 18-meter stripe in toward our
goal. It came down within reach about five meters out from the near
post. Rick, our keeper, made a play on the ball, but he got blocked
out by Ted Artichenkoff, our sweeper, and a North Carolina forward as
they jostled each other, each trying to gain an advantage toward the
ball against the other. The ball came out of the sky right in front
of Ted and his nemesis, and another North Carolina forward elevated,
gained a little extra height on his jump by pushing off Frenchy in an
illegal move that was unfortunately blocked from the referee's view.
This second player whipped his head at the ball and made contact, and
Rick had no chance of being able to alter his momentum toward the
ball, now streaking just past his shoulder and into our net.
At halftime, defense and offense each met separately to brainstorm,
and then we huddled together as a team to critique our first half.
Jesse, in his customary role as co-captain of the team and the
spokesman for the offense, took the lead.
"So, did defense come up with a strategy to stop these guys?" he
asked, looking around at all of us.
Rick, our defensive co-captain, answered. "We've got some
adjustments we can make. Frenchy is going to play tighter on his
man, Stuart knows he needs to patrol into the middle a little more.
To be sure, that corner shouldn't have happened. Other than that,
we're playing them pretty straight up."
"Yeah, we are, except for the scoreboard," said Jesse. He turned to
me. "What do you have to say about it, Porter?"
"Well, two things," I said. "I could drop back into the right
defender's spot again." Both Jesse and Bryan were about to protest,
but I held my hand up. "Wait, there's more," I continued. "We've
kind of let them talk us into playing positions again. Maybe Frenchy
needs to play his guy tighter, but Jeremy isn't dropping back to
assist him. For that matter, neither was I. We need to reestablish
our floating assignments."
"They're a tough team to use that on," observed Bryan. "Maybe that
scheme only works on more rigid teams than North Carolina."
"I don't believe that," said Spencer. "It's a veiling offense and a
confusing defense when we work it right. We're just not in sync out
there yet."
"That's why I want to move back to defense," I added. "That's where
we started to develop our flowing positions. I'm planning on kick-
starting it from back there by working the switch with Stuart,
Spencer, Brad, and Ted. From there the rest of the team should just
fall into the adjustments we've practiced on for the past few weeks."
Jesse gave me an appraising look. "You really think it will work
that way?" he asked.
Every head in that huddle turned to me. If I was wrong, it was all
on me. "Yeah, I do," I said.
Jesse just looked at me for a moment, and then nodded. "Okay.
Let's clear it with Pick. Ready? Break!"
Everybody put their hands together and shouted with him, and Jesse,
Rick, and I stepped over to Pick and Eddie, standing a little apart
from us as they let us work out our plan. The three of us explained
what we had in mind quickly.
Pick glanced at Eddie, but they didn't exchange a word. He turned
back to us. "If'n you all think that's what it will take to get back
on track, it's fine with me," he said. "If Eddie or I see something,
though, we'll prob'ly move you guys around from over here. So you,"
he said, jabbing his finger at me, "listen up for any instructions
from the sidelines. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Then go win this here game, gentlemen," he instructed us. Jesse
and I broke out into big grins, and Rick gave him a big thumbs-up and
nodded at him before turning to rejoin our teammates.
"It's a go," said Jesse to the team as we neared them. Everybody
gathered around one last time before we took the field. "We watch
for Porter's move, then. We work off that. Everybody understand?"
A round of affirmatives came from everyone, and we broke up and took
our positions on the field for the start of the second half.
North Carolina was already on the field when we trotted out to our
positions, and as soon as I moved into my defensive spot I could see
the Tarheels forwards huddling up and discussing the change.
Obviously they were not expecting that sort of adjustment, and I
hoped it confused them enough to put them back on their heels just
enough at the beginning of the half to give us an opportunity to tie
up the score.
They recovered quickly, too quickly for us to take advantage. In
fact, they didn't really make any on-field adjustments to our changes
that I could see. I settled back into my familiar routine and my
familiar position, and I watched the progression of the second half.
About eight minutes into the second half I saw my chance. Bryan and
Jesse were working the ball in a two-man game deep in Tarheels
territory, so I called for Stuart to shift with me. Spencer saw me
move and gave me a hand signal to let me know he was ready to move
over for me. I didn't want to revert to our first half lineup,
though, so I kept on moving up, past the midfield stripe, as Stuart
dropped back to cover me. Juan Maria was hovering up just off the
right post, anticipating a crossing pass by either Jesse or Bryan,
and I moved up toward him. He saw me coming forward and began
sidestepping back toward me, keeping an eye on the ball and our two
forwards on the other side of the field. I waved to him to indicate
he should move back toward the line and back me up, and he slid back
into the right midfielder's position.
Meanwhile, Jesse spotted me coming up pretty much unchallenged. The
Tarheels were not expecting me to move all the way up into an
attacking position from way back in my corner, and so I was kind of
the forgotten man on the field for the moment. Jesse faked a pass
back to Bryan, spun around, and gave the ball a swift ride into a
small open area just in front of me. I was moving forward at a
steady speed, and his pass led me beautifully. I took it in stride,
making the defense shift toward me. The defender on my side closed
on me, and Juan Maria saw the opportunity to charge. He took off,
seemingly toward nothing but empty grass toward the corner, but he
knew I had seen him. I settled the ball against my inseam, and then
I used the inside of my left foot to blister a pass that raced past
the startled defender coming up on me, and into the open space Juan
Maria was just entering. Jesse crashed the goal toward the far post
and I stepped around my defender and bore down on the near post as
Juan Maria gathered in the ball, dribbled up to a more advantageous
angle, and lofted a pass over my head toward Jesse.
The North Carolina middle defense was not drawn out of position,
though, and their sweeper and their stopper double-teamed Jesse. He
had no play on the net, even though he controlled Juan Maria's pass,
and he was forced to move the ball back to Spencer. The defenders on
him eased up, giving Jesse a little room to maneuver, and Spencer put
the ball back on Jesse's feet. Again the defenders closed, and the
ball went back to Spencer. By that time I had moved back to
triangulate with Jesse and Spencer, opening up more options, but
Spencer was happy to play straight ahead with Jesse.
Suddenly, it dawned on me what Spencer and Jesse were waiting for.
I took off at a run toward the right post from the middle of Tarheels
territory as Jesse was passing the ball back to Spencer. Goldman
took the pass, settled the ball to make sure he had a good passing
opportunity, and he rolled the ball toward my back. I was just
outside the box when the ball hit my heel. It rolled up my leg, and
I gave it a boost as I bent my leg back and heeled it up in the air.
The ball looped up over my shoulder, and I side-stepped a little away
from it, jumped up to meet it, and sidekicked the ball off my laces
at about shoulder height. The ball powered off my foot, catching my
defender completely by surprise as the ball whistled inches from his
ear. The North Carolina keeper, watching the ball all the time, was
still just a second too slow, and the ball pounded into the back of
the net for the tie. It was a new game.
I was mobbed by my teammates after the goal, and it took us a few
minutes to disentangle and reset for North Carolina's restart. I
moved back into the defensive spot again, satisfied we were once
again fluid. On the next set, I saw Frenchy moving up, and as I
switched, this time with Ted into the sweeper spot, I even saw Jesse
dropping back and switching with Jeremy, voluntarily moving to play
left midfield.
If that doesn't confuse them, they can't be confused, I thought as I
saw movement all over the field. And, in fact, it did confuse them,
enough so that we were able to sneak one more goal in on them, a
golden goal scored during stoppage time at the end of the game by
Juan Maria Sandoval, with an assist from Spencer Goldman. The
referee blew his whistle while we were resetting, and that was all we
needed. We walked away with a win, and we would have to wait to see
if we would meet Maryland or South Carolina for the tournament
championship on Sunday.
We lined up and congratulated North Carolina. They had played
ninety minutes of excellent soccer, and had come within seconds of
taking us to overtime. We felt lucky to be moving on to the
championship game.
After the game and after Pick's post-game analysis, we were in the
shower when the solution to my problem of Luke, Kayla, and the room
hit me. It put me in an even better mood.
__________________________________________________________________
We had to sit together as a team to watch the second semi-final, so
I couldn't go off looking for my friends in the stands. We were in
our warm-up suits, essentially school uniforms that immediately
identified us, and I didn't want to be conspicuous drifting around
the stadium. Besides, sitting with Jesse, Bryan, Brad, and the
coaches would give us an opportunity to analyze the play of both
Maryland and South Carolina. We brought out our bottles of Gatorade
and awaited the kickoff, everybody exuberant with our win.
When the teams took the field, it was very strange to see two good
friends, guys I had played high school soccer with for years, in
opposing uniforms and on opposite sides of the field. I didn't like
it, but I also knew I would have to suppress my feelings from that
moment on. High school was over, and Eric Johnson and Trent Abbott,
at least for the rest of the fall, were members of teams standing in
our way if we wanted to win the Georgetown Tournament, as well as the
NCAA title. No sentiment was allowed at this level. At
Christmastime, and off the field, they could be my friends; at game
time, friendship was abandoned at the sidelines.
"So, Porter, who do you want to win?" asked Brad.
I shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me."
"Which team do you think is the tougher team?" he persisted.
"I don't know," I said. "You probably have a better idea about that
than I do. You played them both last year."
"True," he said. "Last year South Carolina was a good team. They
only graduated about five or six guys, so they're stronger this year.
Maryland wasn't all that great last year, but they had a good
recruiting year, and they're starting a bunch of sophomores, too.
They lost about half their starters to graduation from last year,
which was probably a good thing for them. I hear they're pretty good
this year."
"They'd have to be, to make it this far," said Jesse. "It's not an
easy tournament to rack up three straight victories."
"But they've been scored on," Bryan pointed out. "South Carolina
hasn't given up a goal yet."
"I think that's too much of a generalization," said Brad. "It
probably says just as much about their draw as it does about their
defense."
"Maybe that's true," conceded Bryan. "But you don't often see teams
seeded low get this deep into a tournament, no matter what the sport
is. Teams ranked eighth in a draw don't often beat teams ranked
first."
"That's just the far end of the spectrum," said Jesse. "What about
the middle of the draw? What makes a team get seeded third instead
of fourth? Fourth instead of fifth? Those teams, especially in big
tournaments like the NCAA, might be so close in ability it's the play
of one guy, or even the outcome of one game in their schedule, that
might be the deciding factor. The talent pool is so balanced, you
can see why a five team can take out a three team, or a three team
can beat a top seed."
"I'd rather be seeded first than fourth, then," said Spencer.
"Might as well start out a tourney against the weakest opponent. If
the fourth seed plays the fifth seed, it's too much of a coin toss to
predict who goes on to the second round."
"It's always better to be the lead dog," said Bryan. "I want them
all looking to climb up to our level. I'd rather not be the one
doing the climbing."
"I think you mixed up your metaphors there, pal," said Jesse with a
laugh. "But we understand you anyway."
"Which kind of frightens me a little," I added with a chuckle.
The South Carolina-Maryland game was about to start. The teams were
on the field, and the linesmen and the referee were ready. The
referee checked with the keepers, and received their signals that
they were set to go, and he blew his whistle to start the clock.
Maryland had won the toss, so they started with the ball. They
passed back and began their opening offensive play.
The rest of my friends and I sat back and enjoyed the sunshine as we
studied the game's progression. Who would we face on Sunday?
As I studied the teams, it became apparent to me that Trent was only
one of their scoring potential players. They were very strong up
front, and very strong around their own goal. Their middle seemed a
little soft, though, prone to playing primarily on offense. They
tended to move back a little slowly, relying on their strong defense
to reacquire the ball and move it up to them. I pointed out what I
was seeing to Brad and Jesse. Maybe, with all of us watching their
play, we could turn our observations into an advantage. Their
midfield just might be an exploitable weakness.
Maryland's game suffered from what I could only think of as
underperforming coaching. They had a talented starting lineup, but
it became obvious very early in the game that they also had some
fractious divisions on their team, primarily between the
upperclassmen and the younger players. Within about ten minutes I
could point out the seniors and juniors on the team, because they had
a tendency to play keep-away. Not only were they trying to protect
the ball against South Carolina, but they also tended to pass only to
each other, and not to the sophomores and freshmen on the field.
Only at need did they allow an underclassman to handle the ball,
including the fastest man on their team, Eric Johnson. Was it my
imagination, this on-field discrimination?
I turned to Jesse and Bryan. "You notice anything odd about the way
Maryland is playing?" I asked.
Jesse sat up straighter. "I wasn't paying much attention," he
admitted. "I tend to watch to see how teams respond later in each
half. I want to see how they react when they're tired."
"It looks a little odd," said Bryan. "What's wrong with this
picture?" He, too, began studying the play a little harder.
After a few minutes, I gave them a clue. "I'll bet that, within
five minutes, you'll be able to tell me which players out there are
seniors, and which players are freshmen."
"Really? You're discerning that much detail?" Bryan stared at me
for a minute, and then turned back to watch. He really wanted to
know how I knew, but I felt he would be able to figure it out quickly.
I alternated watching the game and glancing at my friends as they
studied the field. After a few minutes, I saw the recognition in
Jesse's face. He smiled and looked over at me.
"I'll be damned," he said.
Bryan looked at Jesse, and then at me, and turned back to the game
once again. I watched him, and I saw when he found it, too. He sat
up straight, and then he bent over in his seat to peer at the field,
his eyes narrowing.
Without taking his eyes off the field, he began pointing. "Okay, we
start out knowing that Johnson, on the far side, is a freshman. So
that means..." He collected his thoughts, and then continued. "The
forward on this side, the right midfielder, the left defender, the
stopper. All freshmen. Or maybe sophomores." He turned to Jesse
and me. "The rest are upperclassmen."
Jesse laughed, and I nodded at him, grinning like a fool. "Seems
pretty damned silly, doesn't it?"
"How the hell did they get this far into this tournament playing
that way?" asked Bryan.
"Now that you see it, it looks pretty bad," I said. "But look how
long it took you to recognize it. And I had to give you a hint about
it first. See? It's subtle, but it's there. It's just easier to
see now that you know what you're looking at."
Bryan let out a low whistle. "Jesus H. Christ, I hope we play
Maryland tomorrow," he said. "How easy would that be?"
"A lot easier now that we see the hole," said Jesse.
"Easy, yes, but what's the point? Let me beat a tough opponent.
Beating up on a weak team isn't all that much fun," I said.
"Oh yeah? It's fun, Porter. Any win is fun." Bryan's face was
serious, but there was laughter in his eyes as he said it.
South Carolina ended up winning the game, 4-1. I would be facing
Trent for the championship, but that was two days in the future. For
the rest of that day, I was planning on meeting my friends once again
for dinner, this time at a seafood restaurant in Maryland that Keisha
knew of.
Before that, however, I needed to straighten out my room situation.
To do that, I had to make a phone call.
(Continued in Chapter 18)
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