Page 47 of Every Move You Make

“Is this normal for them? Learning something new like this?”

“Laura had a special way with them,” he explains, crossing his arms as we stand side by side, watching the players stretch out their hamstrings. “It’s like she spoke their language.”

“We all speak rugby,” I shrug. “If I was able to learn it in ten minutes, why can’t they?”

“Maybe it’s the new coach feeling. No one has settled in yet.” Bob pats me on the shoulder as the players finish stretching and dissolve back to the locker room. “We’ll try again Thursday.”

Rooted in place, I watch player after player shoot Robyn unenthused looks, each one exchanging some kind of silent language. She lingers behind with Serwaa, and I think she’s going to come over to talk to me. Instead she grabs a few balls from the ground and follows Serwaa to the twenty-two meter line, assisting her friend with kicking practice.

I want to stay and talk to her, but the way she glances over at me is something I’ve never seen from her. Like she doesn’t understand something. She doesn’t look at me for long before she catches Serwaa’s kick and sends it back to her. Over and over again, the pair of them repeat this until their disgruntled demeanors turn into laughter. And while I’m relieved to see her back to her most natural self, I’m equally as hurt with myself for causing her frustration.

How the fuck do I fix this? My hand itches to pull my phone out of my pocket and call Angie. No, she doesn’t have experience coaching any sport, but she always has a way ofknowing just what I need.

“Hey,” my sister answers while I walk off the field and head toward my car.

“Hey. Um…” Suddenly I feel stupid for calling.

“How was your first practice?”

I want to lie and tell her it was great. But it’s her. “It could have been better.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“They just didn’t get what I was trying to teach them. I don’t really understand why.”

“Have you—wait, no,” she says, stopping herself. “Are you calling for a solution or just to talk?”

“Um, do you have a solution to make them get it?”

“You’re literally the expert. I’m here if you wanna talk about it, but,” she sighs. “Have you even cracked Mom’s baby journal for you?”

Her question throws me off guard. Why is she bringing up the journals our mom kept for each of us during her pregnancies? What does that have to do with what’s happening now?

“Not yet,” I mumble as guilt bites at me. “How does that have anything to do with rugby?”

“I don’t know. But I seem to find answers whenever I read it.”

“Yeah, but for like, mom stuff, right?”

“No, not just for mom stuff. For life stuff. Just page through it sometime. I think it’ll surprise you.”

Rolling my eyes, I open my car door and flop inside. “Yeah, okay,” I say noncommittally.

“You’ll find a solution for your team soon enough. Be kinder to yourself, okay? Oh shoot, I gotta go. Zo just grabbed Razzle’s tail and is trying to eat it. Bye!”

The call ends abruptly, and I chuckle at the image of my niece reaching for their elderly blind cat with her bizarrely strong baby grip.

From my car, I watch Robyn and Serwaa on the field still kicking away. Every time Serwaa makes a good kick, Robyn’s hyping her up and making loud whooping sounds I can hear all the way in the parking lot. She’s in her element here—helping her teammate after practice like this. She deserves the title of captain.

Now I have to figure out how to be deserving of the title Coach.

Chapter 19

Game Tape & Thirst Traps

Robyn

Only two weeks after Isaiah’s first practice with us, we’re in Dublin for our first official game of the summer season. We’re not like other professional sports teams that get to play within their own country. Rugby is still too obscure in the United States to form a large network of pro teams.

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