“Thurston will.”Those two words send the whole field to look at me.Dozens of eyes, staring at me.I give them all a nod, hoping they don’t notice I’m practically shitting myself, but also hoping they don’t realize how happy I am.One player's misfortune is another’s opening.Diego shuffles off the training pitch with the physio and doctor under each arm.Some of the players are still looking at me, others have gone back to their training, and the coach is making a beeline toward me.This is what I’ve been waiting for.An opportunity to prove myself.
“So, I see you watched the show.Are you ready to be in the final?”
“Yes, Coach,” I say, because, really, there’s nothing else to say.I’m ready for this.It’s come earlier than expected, but I’m going to grab this opportunity with both hands and not let go.A broad smile takes over my face.If I can play like I know I can, my family will never have to worry about money again.
Training has been intense the past few days, but it’s paid off.I’m now in the center circle about to kick off.My first home game in the starting eleven, and the crowd is electric.They’re chanting our songs, waving their scarves, and really making it intimidating for the away players and fans.It’s like a cauldron of emotions.
The announcer is calling out the names of all the players, and anticipation rumbles in me.What if they call my name and they boo?What if there’s silence?Before I can spiral, I hear, “One of our own, Number Nine, Kyle Thuuuurston!”The crowd is wild.Chants ofOne of our own!Kyle Thurston, he’s one of our own!break out, and I can’t help but feel emotional.
Technically, I’m not one of their own.I’m from the academy up north.But they did take me on when I was still in primary school.Why the fuck am I thinking about semantics at a time like this?Oh, yes…anxiety.
I try to calm myself, try to remember what the nurse said, and my mind instantly goes to AJ.I feel a wave of calm wash over me.I haven’t spoken to him in a few days, and once again, he’s helping me.
I pull focus to the game at hand, block out the noise, and kick off.I pass the ball straight to Gus, who pings one out to the left.I make my way further up the field and pounce on a loose ball before finding some space.The crowd urges me to shoot, but I pass it to our winger, who’s made a great run.He fires it at the keeper, and the ball is parried out to me.I chest it down, and the crowd urges me to shoot again.This time I do, but my shot is blocked.I receive a round of applause from our fans as a reward for my effort.
We go in at half-time goalless.There are a few players trying to get their second wind.We don’t have a huge squad, another reason why I, a youth player, am in the starting lineup.We need a total of seven points from our final seven games to assure we’re in this league next season.There’s huge pressure on me, as the now only fit striker, to come up with the goals.
Eighty-three minutes played, and we go a goal down.My chest tightens at the pressure.We need as many points as we can get.I need to play out of my skin.I need to prove a point.The ball is passed to me, and I put the afterburners on, weaving in and out of incoming challenges.I find an opening and shoot goalward.The keeper pushes it away with his fingertips, and our fans groan in disappointment.The subsequent corner is squandered and now with just a few minutes left, I’m racing through on goal again.As I’m about to shoot, I’m taken out from the side.I scramble to get back up, but the ref has already blown the whistle, signaling for a penalty.This is our chance to claw a point back.I wait outside the box, like everyone else on the pitch who isn’t the keeper and our captain.The stadium is silent.Our captain steps up.I get ready to make a pounce on the ball should anything happen.This will be the very last play of the game.He shoots.I watch the trajectory of the ball and sigh as it goes over the bar.The ref blows for the final whistle.Defeat.
I know it’s not all my fault, but I quickly applaud our fans and head back into the dressing room in silence.I replay every instance over again in my head—what I could have done better, how I could have peeled off a defender slightly quicker, made a run sooner, passed more smoothly.My mind is going a million miles a minute.I launch a water bottle across the empty room.At least, I thought it was empty.
“Let that passion guide you, but don’t let it destroy you,” Coach says as he sits down next to me.“You were great out there today.Do not forget that while you’re busy spiraling.Because I know that’s what you’re doing.It’s what you’ve always done.You put the weight of the team on your shoulders.It’s what I saw in you all those years ago.It sets you apart from the rest of the players.It’s what makes you elite.Today wasn’t our day.But we are now better prepared for the next game.”
“Yes, Coach.I’m sorry.”I bow my head, and he puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Listen, you’ve nothing to be sorry about.I trust you’re the man to keep us up, but remember, we’re a team.We all have responsibilities.Keep your chin up.”
Our coach is a master at team talks, one rousing speech from him and you’d go into battle no matter what the cost.
HarryC0312: Kyle is shaping up to be a great player.Can’t wait to see what he can do in a cup final.
Væ’sBæ’s78: Kyle is a great player, big future ahead, I can feel it in the cosmic force.
Dan3847492: Kyle sucks ass on the pitch and, most likely, off it too, by the way he runs.Would hate to share a dressing room with him.#NotInMYGAME
Vourney14: Woo!Kyle with the later winner, again!
No matter how many times I scroll social media, no matter how many positive comments I find, I’ll always see one that brings me back to reality.Makes me feel less than.Despite my great run of form, ten goals in six games, people are still finding fault.And “Dan3847492” isn’t the only person who thinks I’m gay.There’s an online news article saying the same thing.
Sure, it could be him who wrote the article, but it’s been getting a little bit of traction.I have no idea where this has come from, but I’m not at all surprised.Every season or so, a player is suspected of being gay, and then the next moment, they have a woman on their arm in some nightclub.That is not an option for me, as much as it would make the rumors go away.Let them think what they want.I’ll smash in the goals.It makes me want to work harder.It reminds me that I have to stay focused on my one true goal: looking out for my family.Anything or anyone that jeopardizes that gets kicked to the curb.
I’m trying to focus on the final two games: the league game, where we need to win to stay up, and the cup final against AJ’s team.There was an old saying by the greatest manager ever: “Squeaky-bum time,” which basically means everything is close—no margin for error, no slip ups.The pressure around the club is thick, but we all believe we can pull off the great escape.And truly, that’s the only way to think in this sport.
Sitting on the sofa and watching the late-night sports news is not helping my anxiety; I can feel the walls closing in and the pressures of the game getting to me.I know I’m doing well enough to warrant a starting place next season, but I can’t keep shaking those negative comments.They seep inside my bones and take hold of my heart.They crawl up into my brain and tell me I'm useless.That I’m nothing more than a no-good queer.Everything goes to black.
“Hello?Are you there?Kyle.Kyle, you all right?”
A voice.The voice—so distant, yet so close.My eyes struggle open, like there’s an anchor tying them down.My phone is in my hand.I look at the display and see AJ’s name.It says I’ve been on the call for over four minutes.
“H-Hi?Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you.”I’m pissed at my subconscious for reaching out to him.
“I’m glad you did.Are you okay?You sound—well, well—you sound like shit.”
I let out a grunt, and struggle up off the sofa, “Thanks.I mean for, you know, staying on the line and bringing me back.”
“No problem.Did you have another panic attack?”He sounds so concerned, and it tugs at my heart.After what I said to him, how I treated him, he still cares.
“Yeah, I think so.I have no idea how long I was out.Last thing I knew, I was on social media looking at comments, getting myself worked up, and then… I…” I trail off, not wanting to admit this.I head over to the sink and pour myself a glass of water.AJ is breathing lightly on the other end of the line.“And then I thought of you.The nurse said when I feel the walls closing in, to think of something that makes me happy.”
