Page 65 of Playing for Possession
“Joanie!”
Daniel crossed the ball, and it flew toward me. I didn’t have the chance to take a breath before the ball was at my feet. My first real touch on a ball in front of an open field in nine months. I held the ball under my foot, rolling it slowly on the grass, getting used to the sensation again. A gentle caress between the ball and the earth.
I looked up to see Kieran watching me. He didn’t say a word, but I could see the concern on his face. He was worried about me. That’s what anxiety did. Its poisonous tendrils spread into everyone around you. My heart fluttered and my guts churned, but something electric sizzled inside of me. Kieran’s words from the plane drifted back. What if this nervous feeling inside was actually excitement? What if I showed these kids what I’d got?
A charge of determination shot through me.Screw it.I flicked the ball into the air. Adrenaline thrummed through my body. I started slow, keeping the ball dancing between my knees. Thechildren’s noise around me faded as my mind fell into a bright, focused fixation. I wouldn’t let this ball touch the ground.
I kept the ball bouncing between my knees, my chest, and my head. The kids gathered around to watch. Kieran clapped and some other boy joined him, but a couple called out in Spanish and shuffled impatiently.Tough luck.They could wait. This was my ball. I’d spent too long without it. It wouldn’t hurt to wait.
“Hey, lady, pass the ball.”
Nope. Not done yet.Now I’d had a touch, I couldn’t let it go. Kieran barked some words in Spanish and the kids fell silent and shuffled back. I flicked the ball high, tricking them into thinking it was coming back into play before rolling it back. Balancing on one foot, I did a knee spin, keeping the ball in the air.
I lifted my head, a smile spreading on my face. “If you want the ball. Come and get it.”
A few of the kids exchanged glances.
“She’s challenging you lot.” Kieran spoke to the boys in a fast stream of Spanish and drew closer. “Good bloody luck getting it off her.”
The boys nudged each other and laughed. Then they came at me one by one. The tallest of the group tried to tackle the ball from me, but I held him at bay easily. I manipulated the ball, passing it between my feet, feeling all these once-familiar moves coming back to me. I’d been messing about with a ball since I was a kid. This was second nature. It was catching my favorite childhood song on the radio and delighting in the fact I still knew all the lyrics. This was a joy, lost and reclaimed.
Another boy lunged at me with a flying tackle. I skipped over him with the ball at my feet, past his friend and another two kids. The kids continued to fly at me, but I dribbled past them. I looked up to see Kieran watching me with an odd expression. One side of his mouth lifted upward. The closest I’d seen him come to a smile.Another kid came at me. I kept the ball out of his reach with my eyes still fixed on Kieran. The kid who was trying to tackle me gave up and slouched away.
The makeshift goal made of water bottles and hoodies was empty and unguarded. I set off at a sprint, threading the ball through Ramirez’s legs, pulling off a nutmeg. The kids laughed and applauded, but the noise faded quickly as I pelted away.
The wind whipped my hair and roared its familiar melody in my ears, calling to me like a lover.You’re still the fastest.My trainers sank into the mud. With no studs to grip, I was skidding all over, kicking up clods of earth. And I was free. Just for a moment. Me and the wind as one. My body moved with a power and grace I’d hardly dared remember. A fire ignited in my belly and with it a hot determination. I closed in on the makeshift goal and lifted my foot to take the shot. My trainer connected with the grass. Then something awful. The fall unfolded in a weird tumbling slow motion. Even the wind reared back in surprise.
The earth rose to meet me. I threw out my arms to break the impact. My hip and side absorbed the blow. The ground forced the air from my lungs and shunted me back in time.Skylar looming over me, gray-faced and wide-eyed. Medics rushing with a stretcher. So many eyes burning into me as my life unraveled.
Everything had been snatched from me in an instant. The wind stuffed my ears like cotton wool.It’s so easily done. So easy to do again.
Kieran dropped to his haunches. His handsome face was twisted with concern. “What hurts?”
Panic spiraled through me. I scanned my body. Pain radiated from my hip and my knee.No. Please no.It wasn’t bad. Not ACL tear bad. But it still hurt. Children gathered around, peering down silently. I didn’t dare move. A sudden rush of tears threatenedto overwhelm me. I’d spent nine months at home. I’d missed everything. My team had carried on without me and I’d been alone. I couldn’t go through it again.
Kieran’s voice was a careful whisper. “Your knee . . . ?”
An overwhelming urge seized me to curl up in a ball like a cornered animal.
His warm hand rested on my face, and his eyes bored into mine. “Talk to me. What hurts?”
I couldn’t get a breath. Not a single one. “It’s nothing. Probably just bruised.”
Before I could protest, he swept me up and I was weightless. My anxiety was a tidal wave, but Kieran was an anchor. I surrendered to his strength and security, cradled against his hard chest, breathing him in. His calm, solid grip grounded me as he carried me the length of the pitch.
“I’ve got you.” His voice was as gentle as it was firm. “Everything will be OK.”
The doctor’s words washed over me, but I felt numb. She was preparing me for the results. Ligament damage didn’t show up on an X-ray. An MRI had been the only way. I took off my glasses and rubbed my burning eyes. I’d been here for hours. Poor Kieran was sitting outside in the waiting room. I’d told him to go back, but he wouldn’t leave. The man was stubborn like that.
Not again. Not again.
The words echoed in my brain, like a mantra. I’d felt invincible before the injury. I’d had the perfect record with training and games. Now my life was divided in two. Before the tear and after. I couldn’t come back another time. I just couldn’t. It had devastated me.
I peered out of the window at the bright-blue sky. Strange to feel so absolutely wretched while beholding such a beautiful view. News like this should be reserved for gray, rainy days in London. What was I going to do? All that work I’d put in at the gym would be for nothing. I’d lose my mind again if I couldn’t play. Just when I was about to restart my life. Hot tears pressed at my eyes, and I didn’t try to restrain them. I felt my stomach drop as though I was in freefall, sliding down a cliff.
I tried desperately to grab on to one scrap of positivity. If this was the end of my career, at least I’d got to play with a legend. It had been a dream come true to share a pitch with Ramirez. In the moments before the fall, I’d felt an incredible lightness that I hadn’t known in so long. An unbridled joy. Ramirez was right. I wanted to play like the little girl who had loved football. Football was all I’d ever wanted to do. Nothing matched the feeling of running like the wind with the ball at my feet.
The doctor pointed to the scan on the lighted box, and a grim determination gripped me.Screw it. This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. That little girl inside wouldn’t let me quit. Whatever this news was, I’d come back from it. If it was another ACL tear, I’d get through it. I’d do the work again, and I’d step back on that pitch. Whatever it took. This wasn’t over. As long as there was breath in my body, I’d keep chasing my dream. Otherwise, what was the point of any of it?
