‘And theonlyteam led by a woman of colour to win a championship,’ Jordan adds, nodding my way. ‘We’re here because we have a point to make.’
I purse my lips. In all the chaos, I forget what it means for me to be here – what it means for so many women in this sport. ‘Exactly. And I don’t give a shit if we lose, we’re not leaving until we make that point.’
A silence fills the locker room as each and every one of us, including me, sit with those words.
‘Riders on me,’ Jordan sticks a hand out, moving to the middle of the room. ‘Riders on three. Come on, y’all. Come on.’
Every girl puts her hand in, and I count us down once we’re all shoulder to shoulder.
‘One, two, three, RIDERS!’
We storm back out double time, taking position up and down the field. I prepare for another draw against the same girl. Do I go risky, or play it safe and stick to her right-side tactic this time? The position of the ball gives me no cues.
I blow a hair from my face, letting the blood rushing behind my ears be the only sound guiding my hand.
When the whistle goes off, I choose primal. I choose to let nothing but instinct tell me what to do, and suddenly, the ball’s arcing over my head one moment, and in the net of my crossethe next. I cradle it back to a safe space on the field, from where I can plot my next move.
‘Move right!’ I call out to Jordan. I chew on the inside of my cheek as I jog towards the right of the field. Playing it down the right is my best shot at an opening. AT’s been weak that side all game. Right?
‘PLAY LEFT, MAY!’
There’s no way.
I can’t be distracted now. I can’t falter when the ball’s in my hands. This is all in my head. I’m under duress, the game approaching its end; I’m hearing things.
I spare the briefest glance at the sideline.
Beside Coach Dillon stands CJ Bradley, a hand on Coach’s shoulder, on the verge of crouching, leaning forward with a muscular arm pointing at the opposite side of the field. Those stormy eyes are wide, his hair pushed back under a backward cap. He fully turns to gesture to the left, and I catch a glimpse of the back of his T-shirt. VELASCO #13. Myjersey.
‘LEFT!’ he repeats, waving towards their side. ‘PLAY LEFT!’
My body doesn’t have time to question what my brain wants to overthink. I dart left all at once, practically screaming to Maddie, ‘LEFT, MADS! LEFT, LEFT!’
Maddie recovers quickly, and when I chuck the ball over to her, she cradles it immediately, and on foot, sprints behind the goal. She shoots around the back – and shescores.
We all screech in unison as Maddie throws her stick down, pumping her fists. We surround her in celebration. Three–seven. This storyisn’tover yet.
My eyes immediately move to Colt when I run back to my position. He nods encouragingly, pacing the sideline the sameway Coach does. Initially, I wonder justhowdehydrated and stressed I must be for hallucinations to have come into play, but then I hear his voice again.
‘Don’t back down, May! Don’t fuckin’ back down!’
I don’t know if he’s here for an hour, for a day, for a week, or if he’ll disappear from my life again after this game. I don’t know if he’s feeding me lies coated in sugar to hide the truth. But I do know that I’ve always trusted his match judgement, sometimes more than my own. I’m not ready to stop now.
The fourth approaches faster than I can keep track. The crowd is fired up, every single person on their feet. The stadium is deafening as the clock ticks down. We are 13–13 after an action-packed second half. Tied. AT’s seen everything from us. Just one thing we haven’t pulled out yet.
Cornered, Jordan yelps, and I call out ball so she can pass back out to me to regroup.Shit.They’re covering all my attackers. I sure as hell don’t think I could suffer through overtime. So what the hell can I do now to take this game?
‘TWIZZLER!’ Colt shouts from the sideline.
No way. No way I’ll make it up to the crease in time for that.
Twenty seconds. Nineteen. Eighteen.
With no other option, no other ideas, I raise a hand so Jordan can see, swirling it in a loop.Twizzler.
If the defence is going to cover all my attackers, I’ll have to use the defence to launch my goal.
I break straight through the midline, running as fast as my legs will carry me. Defenders charge my way, but I careen left and right. A pass to Maddie, and a pass back to me. I send it to Jordan. I can practically feel the Oklahoma crowd biting their nails as the seconds pass. Five. Four.
