I bristle from the flagrant putdown. I’ve heard it my entire life, witnessed it in real-time. Like now. The sentiment that boys are better than girls. That the boys’ teams deserve more funding than the girls’ teams. That the boys matter more than the girls.
I scoff, shaking my head. “Good luck to you, Coach.” I turn away from him and round up my team.
“Girls, the boys have taken the field. There must have been a mix-up with the timing,” I lie. “So, we’re going to do things a little differently today.” I gesture toward the parking lot. “Julieta and Maria, can you girls grab some cones and balls from the utility closet?”
“Sure,” Julieta says. “I hope the closet is open since Mr. Gomez is still in the hospital,” she murmurs, as she and Maria run back toward the school.
I wince. Mr. Gomez is Álvaro. And yes, he’s still in the hospital with no conclusive news on his prognosis.
“The boys didn’t have a practice scheduled today,” Anna says, frowning. “They stole our slot.”
I sigh, looking around the huddle. “Never let them see you sweat,” I explain. “Opponents, male or female, will try to undercut you at every opportunity. They will look for a weakness and attack it, trying to gain the upper hand. No matter what they do, you pivot. You adapt. You beat them at their own game and in the end, you hold the trophy. Trust me on this.”
Anna crosses her arms over her chest, fuming.
“Use your anger to motivate you,” I advise. “And start running laps for warm-up.” I point toward the perimeter of the nearly empty parking lot. “Today, that’s our practice area and our field. We’re going to use it wisely.”
Once the girls return, I set up the cones for a series of drills. I hate that the girls are practicing on the hard pavement but there’s no way I’ll cancel practice and waste their time or let Sergio think he got one over on me.
Blowing my whistle, I call the girls over to run them through today’s practice goals. And then, we start. I’m tough on them, pushing them to improve, to strive for more.
When they’re dripping sweat and taking a water break, the boys’ team calls practice.
“We’re done. You can have a go.” Sergio points toward the field as he passes.
I ignore him. “Vamos, chicas.” Let’s go, girls. “We have two sets left.”
“Are you pretending you can’t hear me, García?” Sergio calls out loudly, drawing the attention of his players and mine.
I look at him over my shoulder. “We’re training, Coach. Sorry, can’t chitchat with you right now.”
He narrows his eyes. I turn back toward my girls and run them through another drill.
Luca
Can’t train today. At the hospital with Álvaro.
I frown at Luca’s message, my concern for Álvaro heightening.
Carla
Don’t sweat it. Everything okay?
Luca doesn’t answer and I sigh. Throwing my car in drive, I head home for the day.
But I’m too agitated from my encounter with Sergio. I’m frustrated and looking for an outlet. After dinner, I change into workout clothes, grab a ball, and head to the field in Parque Turia.
“¡Ahí, está, La Pulga!” Guapo shouts when he sees me. There she is, the flea.
My lips curl into a smile. “You ready for me, Guapo?”
He holds his arms wide, grinning at me. “Siempre lista para ti. ¿Te acuerdas?” Always ready for you. Remember?
I chuckle at the innuendo behind his words and chuck my soccer ball at his head. “It was two dates, Guapo.”
“The best two dates of his life,” Risitas replies for him.
“I’m in a bad mood and need to blow off steam,” I warn the guys.
