Page 92 of Playing for Possession
She gave me a sharp assessing glance and I held her gaze. Whatever she saw on my face made a small smile flicker across her lips. She gave a grudging nod. “Good. Get the fuck on with it, then.”
I jogged onto the pitch and relayed Claire’s instructions to my captain. Skylar’s scent of turf engulfed me. Her broad smile filled me with warmth.
“All good?” She gripped my hand and squeezed.
“I’ve got it. Let’s do this.”
Skylar gave Claire a nod. Play resumed. I didn’t have a moment’s grace to feel afraid. The ball came flying toward me. I caught it with my chest and let it fall in front of me. I rolled the ball under my boot and passed it back to Lana. We just had to keep possession, but Claire’s instructions were easier said than done. The opposition had clearly worked on their fitness pre-season, because they were relentless. This was more like a game of basketball as each team took it in turn to attack the opposition goal. We were losing the ball easily. With every passing second, my frustration mounted. I glanced at the clock.Nearly done. A draw wasn’t a bad way to start the season, but I couldn’t deny I wanted a win.
Lana chipped the ball to me, but the weight of the pass was all wrong. The opposition striker stole it from me in a flash. She sprinted forward with the ball at her feet, darting toward the goal. My body ached with fatigue, but I had to chase her down. A goal in the last couple of minutes would be a disaster. Every player on the team moved to the opposition box to defend. The opposition took a shot on goal. Our goalie, Hannah, launched into the air for a one-handed save. By some miracle, she got to it. The ball flew out and landed squarely at my feet.
Well then.
I turned on the ball. Every player on the field was in this penalty box. They’d sent their entire team down to attack us, andnow they were in trouble. The only thing between me and the opposition goal was one hundred yards of turf and a goalkeeper. A surge of adrenaline went through me. There was no time to plan or think or feel. There was only one thing to do: run.
I set off at a sprint, darting the length of the pitch. My heartbeat pounded a drum inside my chest. Strong and steady. The wind caressed my face, urging me on. A hot exhilaration burst through me. The stadium and all its noise and tension faded to a blur. There was just me and a ball and a memory of a little girl who only ever wanted to run fast. I’d spent nine months in hell because that little girl wouldn’t let me forget that this was where she’d always wanted to be. She hadn’t let me quit. I was desperate to thank her. I wanted to thank my body, too. I’d put it through so much, and here it was, trying hard all over again.
Every strike of my foot as I ate up the grass was a strength reclaimed, and a testament to willpower and resilience. It hadn’t been pretty, but I’d shown up and done the work. Kieran was right. It was enough. A strange sound like a laugh bubbled inside of me. The goalkeeper was out of her goal. She ran toward me. I slowed, and on instinct my body—this body once so full of pain and resistance—responded.
I chipped the ball right over the goalkeeper, and it bounced on the grass behind her. She was too slow. I got there first and flicked it over the line. The ball hit the back of the net. I tried to stop, but I’d run so hard my legs couldn’t. I tumbled over the line after the ball, hitting the ground and sliding along the grass on my front.
I felt the stadium erupt. Cheering resounded through the stands. The applause engulfed me in a loving embrace. I rolled over. Damp earth at my back. The crowd were on their feet. Even Claire had a smile and a hug for Gabe over on the sideline. I’d raced the length of the field in a heartbeat. It had been a flash of lightning. A spark of magic. The perfect counterattack.
The final whistle blew. Skylar reached me first. Beaming, she dropped down next to me and pulled me into her arms. Rough hands seized my waist, my legs, my arms, and I was being lifted upward. My team hoisted me off the ground for a victory lap, and tears of relief and joy filled my eyes.
I’d done it. I’d fought for nine months to step back onto this pitch, because I’d been born to run with a ball at my feet, and every kid in the country who had been born the same way needed to see what was possible. Some people thought I’d only got here because of my dad. That I was a mediocre player taking up a spot that others deserved.Too entitled. Too quiet. Too demanding. Too vanilla.People thought all kinds of things about me. So what? Kieran was right. People could think whatever the fuck they wanted.
Chapter 42
Joanie
The players’ lounge exploded into applause the moment I walked through the door. I resisted my usual urge to find a quiet corner or a pillar to hide behind. That was the old me. This had to be the start of a new Joanie Fox. The one I’d found in Menorca, and who showed up today on the pitch when I needed her most. Lana slipped her arm around my waist and inclined her head to where Kieran chatted with my dad and Ollie. My heart raced. I wanted to be honest with him and tell him how I felt. It should have been simple, but the familiar resistance to speaking up made my throat tight.
“Hello, you. Kieran Earnshaw is here.” A teasing look crossed Lana’s face as she handed me a glass of champagne. “Very interesting.”
“Stop,” I said, but I couldn’t help my chuckle.
“That was an amazing goal.”
“Thank you. It was a team effort.”
She studied my face. Humor glinted in her eyes. “How was the commercial? Make any progress on the list?”
I fought the need to shrink away. Returning to play after the injury was the first step, but I wanted more than that. I wanted to return to the team. That meant taking risks and opening myself up, the way I had done with Kieran. If I could run naked into the sea, then I could be more open with my teammates.
I met Lana’s bemused gaze. “Let’s just say, you were right. Writing other people’s fuck-it lists might be your calling in life.”
She beamed. “I’m pleased I could put my talents to good use.” She gave me a playful poke in the side. “You were amazing out there, truly. So glad to have you back. This is going to be a good season.”
The tinkling of a fork on a glass snatched my attention to Claire in the middle of the room. My manager peered around with an expectant glare until the huddled crowd descended into silence.
“Congratulations, ladies.” She flashed a thin smile. “First win of the season, but let’s not get carried away. There’s still plenty of work to do in training. We should all be defending as a team. We gave away too many big chances. I don’t even want to talk about the corners and free kicks.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Shocking. God only knows what you were doing with those.
“Delivery into the box left a lot to be desired. If it’s windy and we can’t pick out someone, pass it short. We need to be more clinical in front of goal. You know all this. You need to take responsibility and organize yourself on the pitch.”
Lana leaned in with a wry whisper. “I prefer Gabe’s speeches.”
You and me both.The director, Gabe, was encouraging and smiley. Claire was like the miserable, nit-picking judge on a TV talent show who gave the harshest critiques, but who you most wanted to impress.
