2-2.
This time, we didn’t look over at Coach because we knew she would be stressed. We all headed back to the top of the field to get ready for the reset. The referee dropped the ball and blew the whistle.
This time, our forward took possession and passed it out wide to me, when out of the corner of my eye, their defender came in fast, stick-checked me, and threw me off balance. I fell to the ground with such speed and force that my head rattled when it hit the ground. The whistle blew wildly, and the Ref yelled, “Foul on St. Margaret’s! Penalty shot awarded to number 8!”
I could hear the crowd yelling in disapproval of the unsportsmanlike conduct and concern for my condition. My head was spinning as I looked up and saw Coach DeLaney running out onto the field with a green Gatorade water bottle in her hand.
“Allie! Are you alright?” she asked, as she assessed the situation.
I was still holding my stick and used it to help me sit up by the time she got to me. “Yeah, my head is just buzzing. I hit the ground pretty hard, but please don’t tell the Ref. I can finish the game. The clock is going to run out as soon as this penalty is over. The game comes down to this,” I said softly, but trying to keep my composure. The wind had been knocked out of me.
“Ok. If you’re sure you’re okay, then I’ll let you finish this thing. Remember, head down on the drive, and just imagine that nobody is out here on this field but you and the ball,” she said.
As she helped me to my feet, the crowd clapped, and I turned to walk slowly towards the top of the circle. The referee met me there with the ball.
“You good, number 8?”
“Fine, thanks,” I said, then she nodded with a whistle in her mouth, set the ball down, and signaled to St. Margaret’s goalie to make sure she was ready. I took three slow, deep breaths and thought back to yesterday when it was just Chris and me out here on this field. Everyone disappeared for a moment. I was calm. I was focused. Then I brought myself back to the ball in front of me. I cast one psyche-out glance to the goalie, then I nodded to signal that I was ready, and the referee blew the whistle.
In one fast motion, I flicked the ball high into the top left corner of the goal. I knew she wouldn’t be expecting it since I always shot into the right corner. It went in. I had done it. We won the game.
3-2.
The team rushed me and wrapped their arms around me, cheering and jumping up and down as we ran back over to our bench. Coach DeLaney was pumping her fists in the air. Without giving her time to react, we quickly unscrewed the top of the Gatorade cooler and dumped some of the ice water over Coach Delaney’s head, then the team turned and dumped the rest of the water over mine. I shrieked at the cold water, and Coach laughed and screamed about how proud of us she was as she joined in our celebratory cheers.
Once the celebration died down, we headed back to our bench, and I looked up into the bleachers to see Chris, still sitting there with a huge smile on his face. I returned his smile at our victory and held up a pointer finger, signaling for him to wait. I was still soaking wet and freezing from all the water being dumped on me, so I climbed around through the sea of bags until I found my backpack, looking for something to warm me up. As soon as I found it, I pulled it from the pile, unzipped it, reached into the bottom, and looked up once more to make sure he was watching. He was. Then I pulled out his green hoodie with PATTON on the back and quickly put it on. When my head popped through the top, I looked for him again, and his face was overcome with a look of both longing and surprise. Just as I pulled my wet hair from the neckline and tugged the sleeves down to my fingertips, I heard someone call my name, and I spun around.
“Allie, do you have a minute?” Coach DeLaney said. She was surrounded by people I didn’t recognize.
“Yes, Coach!” I replied promptly. I looked back at Chris. “Wait for me?” I mouthed to him, and he nodded. Then I zipped my bag, grabbed my stick, and headed over to Coach DeLaney, where she was chatting with three women who looked about her age. They all turned to greet me as I approached.
“Ladies, this is Allie Wyatt, our team captain,” Coach said with a smile, as she placed a hand on my shoulder. “Allie, these are the coaches from D1 programs who came to watch you play today.”
“Hi Allie, I’m Coach Andrews from Old Dominion University. It was a pleasure to watch you play today,” the first one said.
“I’m Coach Avery from Wake Forest, great job out there,” said the second one.
“Hey, Allie, great game today, I’m Coach Morris-Cury from Penn State,” said the last one with a smile.
I looked back at Coach DeLaney, starstruck. I was surrounded by coaches from three of the best field hockey programs in the NCAA. She signaled for me to go and speak to them, so I sat down on the bench and met with each of them, one at a time, to listen to their school program pitches. At the end of it, I was left with more confusion than clarity on where I might like to attend next year, but afterwards, Coach assured me that I still had some time to think about it before offers came in.
“Hey, Coach?” I said as she was about to walk away. “You looked worried earlier. Is everything okay?”
“Yep, everything is fine. I was worried because I knew they would be here today, and after yesterday, I just wondered if we should reschedule them, since I wanted them to see you at your best, and then you added this boy to the mix. You really were a star out there today, Allie. I’m glad you were able to focus and take my advice.”
“Well, I’m able to do both, turns out. He’s waiting for me, actually,” I said, as I turned to look at him, then looked back at Coach, but she just shook her head and smiled.
“Okay, well, as long as it doesn’t distract you from your craft, do whatever makes you happy. You killed it out there. See you tomorrow, Allie.”
I gathered my things and headed back to the bleachers, where Chris was still waiting for me. As I got closer, he reached out for the strings of his hoodie, cinched the hood around my face, and pulled me towards him.
“Great game, Superstar,” he said as he pulled me in closer for a hug. His arms felt strong wrapped around me as I melted into his warm chest and I stayed there until he let go. “Green is your color,” he said, letting me finally drift out of his arms. I just smiled, still nervous about wearing his hoodie in public, but getting used to the idea of not caring about what other people thought anymore. I curled my fingertips around the cuffs of the sleeves and pulled them down again out of habit.
“Ready to get out of here?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Thanks for coming. I can’t think of the last time anyone has come to watch me play. I’m glad I didn’t screw up knowing you were here.”
“It was a rush to see you in action, and you were killing me in that skirt,” he said with a tone that made me quickly turn to him when he said it, just in time to see that fire flash again in his eyes.
