Page 163 of Unrivaled Love
"Hell no. This is the World Cup semi-final. You take the shot. Always."
I laugh. "Okay, I can do that."
"Get hungry Jo. This is yours."
“I will. I know.”
We hang up and I stretch out my neck. I FaceTimed with Bryson last night too and holding the phone up to my face was more strenuous than I thought it would be.
He had a party down in Annecy for Aiden and Harper’s engagement last night but with the game today I couldn't go. He still took me around the whole party when I called after practice, and I got to say hi to everyone. Then he snuck up to one of the bedrooms and talked me off.
It was exactly the release I needed.
Ireland had the better record in group play. They're the favorites tonight which is the first time the US hasn't been. Their team is young and fast. We're going to have to work hard not to get out paced the whole game.
And after three weeks of playing that's going to be tough. This tournament is a marathon. Maybe an ultra marathon. And I can feel my body hitting the wall.
Brie will be at the game tonight. So will my family. And, I smile to myself, Bryson too, just like he has been for every game these past three weeks.
It's been a huge lift to know he's in the stands when I take the field. I can't see him in the crowd but he always tells me where his seats are and I think he stands and claps the entire game.
For weeks he worried about what to wear to my games. He wanted to look suave, and “fly as fuck” but he never figured out what that looked like.
Then, on the flight over, his sleep deprivation kicked in and genius struck.
He’s come to every game proudly wearing a Hamilton jersey.
He's posted videos and photos on his social media of him shaking his ass with my name and number above it and I'm so proud to be his. And I love the public way he’s letting the world know he belongs to me.
***
It never gets old.
Holding the hand of a little girl who loves the game as much as I do.
Walking out of the tunnel to cheers and chants and music.
Placing my hand over my heart for the anthem.
Jogging out to my position for kick off.
These moments happen every game but it never fails to feel exciting and new. I have 90 minutes to battle with my team. To strike at the right time. To be patient and aggressive all at once.
We win this game, we have one more to go.
Two wins and I'll have my World Cup.
It's so close I can taste it.
The ref is making her way to the center and I take one last second to scan the crowd. To see all the people here to support us and our effort.
The whistle blows and here we go.
Knowing Ireland is faster on paper I take it slow. I don't want to burn out my muscles too soon or risk a cramp in this humid weather.
We maintain possession for the first two minutes but aren't able to penetrate their defense. When they get the ball it's the same. We hold them off and exchange attempts up high for the first twenty minutes. There are no TV timeouts in soccer. We play until the whistle blows.
Kiera takes a shot from the corner of the box and it sails over the net. As the goalkeeper sets up their goal kick to bring the ball back in play, I head over to her.
