* * *
By the beginningof the second half, the team seem even more tense than before. Carter is defending as well as he can – even though I think he may have just got lucky with the last two shots.
I yell at the kids to bring forward their attack, and at leasttryto recover some of the points we’re missing. I’m pacing up and down the sidelines, agitated, trying to make them listen to me.
“You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”
“Shut up and give me a hand. It’s like they’re not listening to me.”
“You really care about your team, don’t you?”
“I care about winning, Tyler.”
“Mmm.”
“Now is not the time for another one of your theories. We’re still in the middle of the match, and our goalie is still scared of his own bloody shadow. Don’t you think we may be in the shit, here?”
Tyler laughs and whistles at one of the team to come over.
“The coach wants to talk to you,” he says, giving me the floor.
Is it really that easy? Why have I not done this before?
“Yes, Coach?”
“I just want one thing from you, kid.”
He nods, listening intently.
“I want you to shoot that fucking ball,” I say, pointing towards it, “into that fucking goal,” I say, gesturing towards the opponents’ goal.
“O-okay,” he says, confused. Tyler laughs.
“Easy, right?”
“Y-yes, Coach.”
“Then why the fuck aren’t you doing it?!” I yell, attracting the attention of the referee.
The boy runs, startled, back onto the field, going back to his teammates, as I prepare myself to deal with Tyler’s commentary.
“Wow.”
“Fuck off.”
“Great speech.”
“I decided to go straight for threats.”
“You think that’ll help?”
“Oh, fuck…”
“What?”
I grab Tyler by the T-shirt and pull him towards me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I step closer to the field. “Run, for fuck’s sake! Run!”
