“What?” Jeff yells back. “No. Why?”
“NOW!” Harper yells.
A ref blows the whistle as Jeff literally kicks the grass up on his way to our bench. The rest of the team (and Martinville’s team) slow down to watch. This isn’t going to be pretty.
“This is bullshit,” Jeff hisses.
“You defiantly refused to pass the ball to someone so open that it could be seen from the fucking moon because you’re still throwing a fit.”
“He wasn’t open,” Jeff says, glaring at Harper. “You’d know that if you were actually our coach.”
Silence sweeps through the crowd. Everyone on the field freezes.
“You’re out the rest of the game,” Harper says. “How’s that for not being your coach?”
“You can’t?—”
“You’re out the rest of the game,” Alka says. “Sit your fucking ass down. One more goddamn word from you, you’re off this team entirely.”
“You can’t do that,” Jeff spits.
“You think you have a guaranteed spot on my team because your daddy donates to the school?” Alka snaps back. “Guess what? You want to play that game—my husband donates three times more to the school than your father doesandsponsors this team almost entirely. What other childish arguments do you need me to lower myself to in order to make you understand?”
Jeff doesn’t say anything. His furious glare says it all.
“Your behavior is out of hand. This game is about teamwork, and if you’re going to continue to refuse to participate as a team player, I won’t have you on my team. Am I clear?” Alka asks.
“Yes, Coach,” Jeff says, though it definitely sounds more like “Fuck you, Coach.”
“That goes for all of you,” Alka says, raising his voice. “I’ve had it. I’d rather cancel this entire fucking season than watch you play like you’re ten and choosing who has cooties for some stupid reason. Enough is enough. Get your shit together. If Coach Harper has to continue to scream at you for the rest of this game, that’s it. We’re done. Am I fucking clear?”
I’ve never heard my husband curse so much in the entire ten years I’ve known him. Clearly, neither has the team. Sure, there’s still some animosity there, but I also see a mixture of shell shocked, guilty, and frustrated expressions. Ruby looks like he wants to crawl under the bench.
Alka takes a breath and sits back on the bench.
“Wow,” Simon says from his spot a few people down from me. All of our friends knew Alka was struggling with the team accepting him and Ruby being together, so they’re here to offer their support. “I didn’t think Alka knew how to yell, never mind swear.”
Declan snorts.
“Roux was open,” someone on the bench mutters. “Wide, wide open.”
“Shut it,” Jeff barks.
“Enough,” the captain snaps at him. “Shut the fuck up or leave, Doherty. You’ve injected enough poison into this team.”
“You’re not happy about this either. Stop pretending you are.”
“Happy or not, I’m twenty-two, not twelve. I know when to put aside something that I may not agree with, so I have the best opportunities of achievingmygoals, which are to play pro. You’re not making the statement you think you are. You know what people on this team are going to remember about you? This right here. You’ve just written your legacy. You can kiss a soccer career goodbye. Now shut up.”
Jeff has the good sense not to speak again. The team gives him a wide berth. No one else speaks to him, either, not even the other assholes on the team.
Should I be calling them assholes, even in my head? They’re kids.
Then again, as my eyes land on Ruby, I realize he’s amongst them, so… Yeah, I’m not going to call them kids. That just sets a weird tone.
Harper replaces the other three assholes, and four new people join the Ruby team to hopefully form a solid front. I’m happy to report that there are passes all around. There’s teamwork again, though I can still feel the breakdown of the overall team. There’s still two very different teams, even if they’re playing as one right now on the field.
Most of the second team are on the bench anyway.
