“Sure, but I need to eat outside today where there’s a blacktop.”
He looked confused, but shrugged in compliance, then we made our way to the cafeteria.
I crafted my usual salad, and Chris got his food, then we left the cafeteria and he followed me to the basketball court. I was on a mission and my mind was focused only on that afternoon’s game, so I set my tray down on a bench and got to work. When I squatted down on the pavement, my sweater rode up my back.
“Nice view,” I heard him say, but I ignored him and yanked it back down into place.
I leaned forward onto my hands to draw a rectangle outline, then started drawing little x’s and o’s inside the box.
“Okay, now I’m really confused. Are we playing tic-tac-toe?”
I looked over my shoulder and smiled, but didn’t reply. Instead, I got up and drew another rectangle next to the first with more x’s and o’s. Then I got up once more, drew one more rectangle like the first two, and stood, looking at them in silence. Next, I started drawing lines all around the rectangles.
“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, looking on. I finally looked back at him, told him I had it all worked out, sat down next to him, and ate my lunch.
“What was all that?”
“Plays,” I said matter-of-factly.
“You’re something else,” he said, as he leaned in next to me and nudged his shoulder into mine.
“You feeling good about this afternoon?”
“I don’t know. I’m still in my head about yesterday’s practice and worried I’m going to screw up today’s game,” I said nervously.
“Hey,” he said in a serious but soft tone. “Look at me,” then he took the salad bowl from my hands and set it down on the bench. “You’re the best player on the team. The best player in the league. Why don’t we go down to the field hockey field right now, and you can go practice some before this afternoon? Get your nerves out.” Then he smiled as he waited for my reply.
“Are you serious?”
“Sure, why not? We both have a free period next. Come on.” And without letting me decline, he grabbed both of our trays, ran them back to the cafeteria, and we headed down to the field.
When we got there, I zipped into the gym, grabbed my stick from the locker room, an extra for Chris from the storage closet, and the bucket of balls by the door. I tapped both sticks on the top of the door out of habit, then headed out onto the field where he was waiting by the goal.
“You ready?” I asked.
“Do your thing,” he said.
“Here, I brought you a stick in case you want to mess around, too,” I said, tossing it to him.
“Thanks, I don’t even know how to hold it, so you’ll have to show me,” he said with a devious smile.
I set my stick down and walked behind him, wrapped my arms around him, and placed my hands over his.
“Okay, your bottom hand goes here, thumb facing down, gripping like this, and now your top hand goes here, slightly over top, gripping like this. Got it?”
“Got it,” he said, as he looked back at me over his shoulder. Then he spun around and wrapped his arms around my waist. “You’ve got this,” he said sincerely. “You’re going to be great today”. Then he leaned down, kissed me, and let me go.
From the bucket, I tossed him a few balls and went to grab my stick. Then I took the rest of the bucket to the top of the penalty circle. I was certain that a few slap shots would boost my confidence.
I dropped the first ball. Stick back. Shot. Goal. Phew.
Next ball. Shot. Goal. Okay, at least I didn’t fully suck like yesterday. I backed it up to the 25-yard line, hit it hard drive and the ball plinked off the goal bar and back out onto the field. My eyes dropped to the ground, and I could hear footsteps running to me from behind. I spun around and looked up.
“Three balls in and I’m already blowing it. What am I going to do this afternoon?” I said with complete defeat.
“Stop. Breathe,” he said, as he brushed the hair out of my eyes. “Why don’t you let me go to the goal, and you can actually work the ball around me. Something a little more real-world. What do you think?”
“Are you sure? But you don’t even know what you’re doing. I’m going to crush you.”
