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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 downloaded 
for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to 
download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as long as 
there is no intent to charge money or barter for the privilege of 
acquiring this material.

   (Copyright 2002, revisions c. 2007, R.C. Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather at hotmail dot com
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PLAYING THE GAME

A Novel

by R.C. Mather




- 15 -

VARSITY SOCCER



School was starting in a few days, and the fall sports teams were
busy practicing. Football was practicing in the mornings, soccer and
tennis in the afternoons. Josh and Jake had both tried out for the
football team and had made the junior varsity team. I was on the
varsity soccer team, playing my right defensive position behind Skip
Horvath, a senior and one of the stars of our team. Skip was chosen
for All-Conference honors as both a sophomore and a junior, and was
second-team All-State last year. Given his reputation and skills, I
wasn't planning on a lot of playing time this season, but I knew he
could teach me a lot about the game. Even though I wasn't a starter,
I was happy to be playing on the varsity team with Skip as my mentor.
I knew that the position was mine for my junior and senior years, as
long as I didn't screw up somehow.

When I got to the first practice, I was surprised to discover that I
was one of only two sophomores on the varsity team. In addition, one
of the backup keepers was a freshman I only knew slightly. He was
Kristina Mendoza's brother, Jorge. Like Kristina, he had been playing
year-round soccer for years in Texas. The other sophomore was Eric
Johnson, a teammate from my club soccer team. Eric won nearly every
foot race he ever ran in, from grade school through middle school. He
ran on the track team in the spring, but he preferred soccer to cross-
country in the fall. Because of his speed and stamina, he usually
played midfield. He wasn't especially skilled with the ball, but he
was so lightning fast that, like Jen Davies, he left his opponents in
the dust, making him very tough to defend.

Part of the first day of practice was spent introducing everybody,
from players to coaches to equipment managers, as well as getting the
schedules handed out and assigning lockers and uniforms. The rest of
the time was spent running on the track. We did a one-mile run,
rested, a half-mile run, rested, and finished with wind sprints. Eric
and I were in pretty good shape from playing so much during the
summer, but some of the kids were pretty wiped by the end of the
afternoon. After the last sprint, we all pretty much collapsed on the
grass of the soccer field, gasping and sweating. A couple of guys
crawled over to the sidelines and threw up, something the coaches
duly noted.

The coaches ordered us in to shower up. We all stood up to walk into
the school to the locker room. Three or four teammates were a little
wobbly and needed support, and a bunch of others were still breathing
very hard long after Eric and I and a few others had managed to catch
our breaths. We straggled along, glad the day's practice was finally
over.

As I was sitting on the bench in front of my locker removing my
soccer shoes, socks, and shin guards, Skip came over and sat down
beside me. He had already removed his gear and thrown everything,
including his sodden t-shirt, into a pile.

"You came out of that torture in pretty decent shape," he said. "I
take it you played a lot this summer."

"Yeah," I said. "I played on a recreational team this summer, and I
also played on a club team. As a matter of fact, we have our last
game on Wednesday morning. I was wondering if I can get out of team
practice that afternoon."

He chuckled. "This is varsity soccer, Porter. No excuses for missing
practice. You're gonna get your fill of running by the time you're
done on Wednesday. Anyway," he continued, "we're having a little
soccer team party on Saturday over at my house. Kind of a get-to-
know-your-teammate party. You going out with anybody?" I nodded. 
"Bring her along. I've got a pool, so bring a suit and a towel. I'm 
telling people to get there anytime after about one o'clock in the 
afternoon. We'll throw something on the grill for dinner, but you'll 
need to provide your own drinks. No booze. Okay?" He got up and 
walked away without waiting for an answer.

A senior talked to me like I was an equal! And not just any senior,
it was Skip Horvath, one of the best-known and most popular kids in
school. Now I felt like I had really made the team. I went home to
mow our lawn, dog-tired but happy.


* * * * * * * * * *


The next morning, I rode over to the Wilkinson house to work with
Davey and Kip. I had called Lori and let her know about my schedule.
She was kind enough to let me switch to mornings with the boys. 

We went over to the park and began stretching.  I told them that I
could only work with them on the weekends now that school was 
starting.

"But will you come watch our games?" asked Davey.

"Sure I will," I said. "Remind me to get a copy of your game
schedule from your mom when we get back to your house, okay?"

"Are you gonna be our coach during the games, too?" asked Kip.

"No, sport. Your team already has a good coach. I'll just be there
to cheer for you."

"Oh. Will Molly be there too?"

"Maybe. I can ask her, if you'd like," I said.

"Molly's a good soccer player, isn't she?" asked Kip.

"Yes, she is."

"Well, why don't the two of you be our coaches, then?"

"I think it's because you're supposed to have grown-ups for coaches,
Kip. Molly and I are still kids, too, you know."

"Really?" He had to think about this one. "I guess you are, if you
are still going to school like Davey and me. But you look pretty
grown-up to me, Sean."

I laughed out loud. "Hey, thanks, pal. But I really don't feel grown-
up. I like being a kid, you know."

Davey looked at me as shrewdly as an eight-year-old could. "Yeah,"
he said, "being a kid is really all right, isn't it?"

"Come on, you guys, get up and get running. I think you're just
saying this stuff to keep from working too hard," I said with a laugh
as I climbed to my feet. "Ready? Last one to that willow tree over
there has to be the monkey in the middle!" And off we dashed, running
and laughing as we dribbled our soccer balls over to the tree.

I wanted to try to teach them about timing and space. I had Davey
play defender while I had the ball. Kip was about twenty feet to the
side, counting in seconds as the drill progressed. Davey started
about forty feet up from me, and on my signal started running toward
me to take the ball away. At the same time, I dribbled up toward him,
and passed the ball to Kip when Davey got near.

"How many seconds did you count, Kip?" I asked.

His eyes were big and round, hardly believing his own counting.
"Only two!" he said.

"How many seconds did you think it would take before Davey got to 
me?"

"About twenty," he said.

"That's how fast you have to look around for a teammate, watch your
defender, and make a decision on what to do with the ball. Two
seconds to do all that. Can you do it?"

"Yes!" cried Davey.

"No!" cried Kip.

We did the exercise again, and Kip was closer to being right than
Davey was, but I wasn't disappointed. It's an extremely hard physics
concept for little kids to grasp, time and two bodies in motion. I'd
had teenaged teammates who couldn't figure it out. Nevertheless, I
thought that if I could get them to at least acknowledge the
difficulty, then they would be another step up on nearly every other
kid their age on the soccer field. After several frustrating tries at
it, I finally had to make the defender start out nearly a hundred
feet away from the player with the ball. This gave them four or five
seconds to make their decision, and that was more workable for both
of them. We worked on this problem off and on during the whole
lesson, even going so far as to chant during our water breaks, "One
potato look, two potato pass. One potato look, two potato pass."

Two hours later, we were headed back to their house. We played our
Heads-Up game with three soccer balls, but kept up the chant all the
way home, passing the ball as we said the word "pass".

Lori was on the front steps waiting for us when we got to the house,
standing by the front door. She watched as we completed our last
passes as we came past the driveway and onto the front lawn.

"Who are these boys, Sean?" she asked. "They are too organized to be
my Davey and my Kip." She looked down at the boys with a smile on her
face. "Who are you, and what did you do with my sons?"

"It's us, mom, really it's us," yelled Kip. He ran up the steps and
hugged his mother around her waist.

"I know it is, Kip, I was just teasing. I hardly recognized you is
all, you guys were so good at passing the ball!" She looked at me,
eyes twinkling. "Come in and get something to drink, boys." She held
the door open for us, and we filed in to enjoy our customary glasses
of fresh lemonade.

"So this is the last summer lesson, I guess," Lori said as she
refilled our glasses. The boys had run upstairs to get cleaned up and
I was hanging around for a few minutes before going home for lunch.

"Yes, it is," I said. "I've got a game tomorrow morning, and school
starts on Thursday."

"Kip and Davey don't start until Friday. This summer really flew
past. It seems like it was only yesterday that it was Memorial Day
weekend."

"I know. I've been so busy this summer with soccer and stuff that I
almost feel like I didn't get a vacation, and now school's starting
again. Ugh!"

"Ah, but you did have a vacation," she reminded me. "You got to
sleep in almost every morning, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah," I said sheepishly. "But those days are gone now."

"I'm not going to feel that badly for you, Sean," she said with a
smile. "I haven't gotten to sleep in since the boys were born."

It was time for me to go. I stood up and carried both our glasses
over to the sink and rinsed them out while Lori rummaged in her purse
for my money for the lessons. When she handed me the bills, there was
an extra ten dollars folded into the middle.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"It's for being so good with the boys," she said.

"No, Lori. I can't take it. They've been really good, and I've
enjoyed..."

"Forget it, Sean," she said, "you're taking it." She wrapped my
fingers around the money and then stepped in to me, pressing herself
up against my chest. She kept her eyes open as she kissed me softly
on the cheek, her face slightly flushed. I could feel the bumps of
her breasts against me. 'Why hadn't I noticed before?' I thought to
myself. 'She's a couple of inches shorter than me.'

She stayed next to me for a moment more, and reached up and gave me
another kiss, this one on the corner of my mouth. Her dark eyes were
serious, depthless pools of brown and black. She reached up with her
left hand and squeezed my arm before stepping away. She seemed a
little flustered, and I knew I was feeling the same way.

"Thanks, Sean," she said quietly. "Thank you for everything." 





(Continued in Chapter 16)


  
PTG15