by Mike Lupica
But she wasn’t going to quit.
She’d come too far just by making the team. She wasn’t about to let a weasel like Jeff Stiles win by walking away now.
Alex had always thought she was pretty realistic about herself. Her strengths and weaknesses, stuff like that. She knew she wasn’t great at a lot of things. And until now, she’d had no idea if she could be great at football. But she was determined to try.
No going away. No giving in. No giving up.
She and her dad had just finished dinner. He headed upstairs to do some work in the converted bedroom office upstairs. Alex was in her room reading, waiting for the start of Thursday Night Football, when the doorbell rang. Alex yelled up to her dad that she’d get it.
When she got downstairs and opened the door, Gabe was standing there.
Alex grinned.
“Are you lost?” she said.
Behind him she saw his bike leaning against one of the pillars on their porch.
“Jabril and I just had ice cream in town,” Gabe said.
“Thanks for inviting me,” she said, joking.
He smiled back and shrugged. “My bad.”
“I get it,” she said. “You’re just afraid to be seen with the girl QB.”
“Come on,” Gabe said, rolling his eyes playfully, “you don’t really think that.”
He was wearing a navy Penn State T-shirt with gray shorts and flip-flops. When Alex tried to wear flip-flops riding her bike, they usually fell off.
“Nah, I’m only teasing,” Alex said.
From the top of the stairs they heard Alex’s dad say, “Are you going to invite Gabe in, or treat him like he’s here to sell raffle tickets?”
“Oops,” Alex said. “My bad.”
“At least you’ve got manners, Mr. C,” Gabe called up to him.
“I try so hard with her,” came Jack Carlisle’s voice from above.
Alex just rolled her eyes as she shut the door behind Gabe.
She led him through the kitchen and out to the back patio. It was early evening, and the sun was setting behind the trees in their backyard. Alex loved this time of day, when the sky turned gray.
Trying to regroup on her manners, she asked Gabe if he wanted anything to drink. He said he was fine and apologized for just stopping by without calling or texting first.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Once I left Bostwick’s it was like my bike came here on its own.”
“Like one of those cars that drives itself,” Alex said.
They sat and watched the fireflies floating around in the backyard.
“I guess I kind of just wanted us to talk like we used to,” he said.
“We still talk,” Alex said.
“But there’s always other people around,” Gabe said. He blew out some air. “Not that I’m that great at talking anyway.”
“I’m not much better.”
“Girls are better at talking,” Gabe said.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Alex said. “Never came naturally to me.”
She turned to look at him. “Is there something specific you wanted to talk about?”
She noticed him frowning, looking a little uncomfortable.
“I guess I’m still trying to figure out why you did all this,” he said.
All this, Alex thought.
There it was.
“Not much to understand,” Alex said. “You’ve always known how much I love football.”
“But a lot of girls love football and don’t try out for the boys’ team,” he said.
He was talking to her but staring out at the yard. Too embarrassed to make eye contact, Alex thought.
“It’s only a boys’ team because no girl ever tried out,” she said.
“Until you,” Gabe said. Alex sensed his agitation. But she wasn’t sure what exactly was causing it.
She turned her chair to face him now, the leg making a scraping sound on the concrete.
“What are you really asking me, G-Hills?” she said.
It was the nickname she’d given him. One she only used when it was just the two of them, talking the way Gabe said they used to.
Now he turned his chair. No scraping noise. A lot of things came easy to Gabe.
Just maybe not this conversation.
“I guess I want to know if you still think it was worth it,” he said to Alex.
“We haven’t even played a game yet!” Alex said, laughing.
“Come on,” he said. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. You know what it’s going to be like . . .”
“So, what,” Alex said, “I’m a smart person doing a dumb thing?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Kind of what I’m hearing,” Alex said. “Makes me wonder whose side you’re on.” She turned her face away from him, crossing one leg over the other.
“Come on,” he said. “You know me, Alex. You know I’m your friend first. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?” she said, twisting to look at him again.
“I shouldn’t have to be on anybody’s side,” he said. “I’ve only ever been on my team’s side.”
“Same with me,” Alex said, not sure what he was implying or why she always felt the need to defend herself.
They sat there in silence for a while, except for the crickets and cicadas and katydids and whatever else was out here. She could remember asking her dad what was making all the noise when she was young. He’d smiled and told her it was her own special orchestra.
“It’s just hard sometimes,” Gabe said.
Alex couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Hard for you?”
“I’m not saying it’s the same for Jabril and me as it is for you,” he said.
“You guys are taking heat, right?”
Gabe shifted in his seat. “A little, yeah.”
“You sure you can handle it?” Alex said. But if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t care about his answer. It couldn’t come close to what she’d been facing the last few weeks.
Alex could see Gabe making fists in his lap.
“It’s like, we don’t talk about football anymore,” he said. “We’ve got our first game coming up, and all anybody wants to talk about is having a girl on the team.”
“You’re saying I’m a distraction,” Alex said.
Gabe didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”
Alex started to say something, but Gabe went first. “But, I mean, is it even worth it if you don’t get to play?”
“You think I’m not good enough to play?” she said.
She wondered if Gabe was speaking on behalf of the rest of the Orville Owls.
“No,” Gabe said. “It’s not that. I think you’re better than Jeff. But it won’t make a difference to Coach.”
“You don’t think he’s going to play me . . .”
“No.”
Just like that.
“Even though you think I’m better.”
“Yeah.”
Alex smiled now. It just came over her, like how the porch lights came on automatically.
“Why are you smiling at that?” Gabe said.
“Because my mom told me this happens a lot,” Alex said. “Even when a woman is better at something than a man.”
Gabe stood up.
“I should go,” he said. “My mom doesn’t like me riding my bike in the dark, even though I’ve got one of those reflector lights.”
“I’m glad you came by,” Alex said.
Gabe managed a grin. “You sure?” he said.
She stood up now and told him she’d walk him to the door.
“I’m still your friend,” he said.
“But you liked it better when you were just that and not my teammate,” she said, a little sad.
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Gabe gave a sheepish grin. “I can be both.”
“You sure?” Alex said, giving his shoulder a little jab.
He gave her a long look and said, “Just remember, for everything you do see, there’s a lot you don’t.”
She watched him get on his bike and ride to the end of her driveway before taking a left toward home. She watched him until the light attached to his handlebar disappeared around the corner.
She stood there and kept hearing the last thing Gabe had said to her.
There’s a lot she didn’t see.
She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.
16
Getting ready for the first football game of her life was a process.
“I wouldn’t spend this much time getting ready for a school dance,” Alex said to her dad.
“You hate getting dressed up for dances,” he said.
“This is different,” Alex said.
They were in her room. She had neatly laid out her uniform on her rocking chair before going to bed the night before. Helmet, pads, jersey, football pants, and spikes. The game was scheduled for eleven, at Orville Middle. Coach Mencken had asked them all to be there an hour early. He said if anyone was even a minute late, they’d be taking laps around the field.
Alex was all ready to go by nine a.m. sharp.
“I’ll tell you something else,” she said. “It was a lot easier getting ready for soccer.”
“Waaa, waaa, waaa,” her father said. “What happened to no crying in football?”
He was leaning against her doorframe, holding the coffee mug Alex had given him for Father’s Day. On one side it read, WORLD’S BEST DAD, and on the other it said, ALMOST POSITIVE. It was the only mug he used.
“You miss it?” he said. “Soccer?”
“I thought I missed being with the other girls,” she said. “But they don’t seem to miss me.”
“They’re just hurt you left the team,” he said. “Like you dumped them.”
“It’s not like that, Dad,” she said. “I’m just trying something new. Only now my old teammates like me about as much as my new ones.”
“The season’s just starting,” he assured her.
Alex looked at herself in the mirror in full gear. “I just wish I were more excited.”
“Come on, kiddo,” he said. “As soon as you step out on that field, you’re gonna realize it was all worth it.”
“I’m not so sure,” she said. “It just makes me mad, you know? How the guys act like I’m trying to steal their lunch money or something.”
He came over and sat down on the edge of her bed.
“I’ve told you about Billie Jean King, right?” Jack Carlisle said. “How she wasn’t just a tennis player but a trailblazer for women in sports?”
“Totally,” Alex said. “The more I read about her, the more I want to be like her.”
“Well,” he said, “she’s said a lot of great things. But to me the best thing she ever said was that pressure is a privilege.”
“I remember that one,” Alex said.
“And don’t you forget it,” he said. “That’s the way we’ve got to approach this thing.”
Alex smiled. “We?”
“Yeah, we,” he said. “I’ll be playing the game right along with you.”
“Like I’m going to play,” she said, skeptical.
As it turned out, she would.
17
She ended up with No. 3. Her dad said it was the perfect number for her.
“You’re a triple threat,” he said. “You can pass, you can run.” He grinned. “And you obviously threaten the heck out of those boys.”
Even though they were in Steeler country, they were close enough to Penn State that the Owls wore similar colors: blue jerseys with white numbers. But when Alex got out on the field at a quarter to ten, she wondered if she’d have the opportunity to get her uniform dirty today. Or ever.
Most of the boys were already out there. Jabril was the only one who jogged over, football in hand, asking if she wanted to warm up with some soft-tossing. He didn’t mention anything about what happened in the lunchroom the other day. Almost like he knew Alex wanted to put the whole episode behind her. Once again, Alex was grateful to have someone like Jabril in her corner.
Gabe was down near one of the end zones, tossing in a triangle with Tariq and Perry. Jabril noticed Alex staring at them.
“He’s fine,” Jabril answered her unspoken question.
They both knew he meant Gabe.
“I didn’t know he wasn’t until he came to my house the other night,” Alex said.
“After ice cream? Yeah. He told me.”
“What was all that about?” Alex asked.
“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Jabril said, “on account of the boy doesn’t like to talk about anything very much. But I think some of the other guys are messing with his head.”
“Because of me,” Alex said. It wasn’t a question.
Jabril nodded.
“How come they’re not messing with your head?”
Jabril’s smile spread across his face as he looked straight at Alex.
“By now you ought to know that nobody messes with any part of me.”
Alex smiled back. It was no wonder Coach had named Jabril team captain. Not only was he one of the best players on the team, he also had the most confidence and treated everyone with respect. He was the definition of a team player.
They saw the team from Latrobe Middle arriving then. Their jerseys and helmets were red, which made sense, given that their team was the Cardinals. That was about all Alex knew about them. She hadn’t heard anything about the other teams in their league either. Plenty of the guys on the Owls had played Latrobe Middle last season. Not her.
“Are they any good?” Alex asked Jabril.
They’d finished throwing the ball back and forth.
“Real good last year,” he said. “The quarterback is a stud.”
Jabril thought for a minute. “Alex,” he said finally. “Alex Mattis. But a boy Alex.”
“What are the odds?” Alex said.
“Not as great as you being the Alex on our team,” Jabril said. “And math is my best subject.”
Five minutes before kickoff, Coach gathered his players around him in a team huddle.
“No speeches today,” he said. “No speech I ever heard affected what I did or how I did it. Play hard. Play clean. And just know that the next play you make—or don’t—is the one that could change everything.”
The Owls won the toss. Coach chose to kick off, which is what most coaches did in the pros. It was usually preferable getting the ball at the start of the second half.
On the third play of the game, Jabril led an all-out blitz on Alex Mattis. He came from behind the Cardinals’ quarterback just as he was bringing his arm up to pass. But Alex Mattis wasn’t able to get forward motion on the ball before it was out of his hand and on the ground. Jabril fell on it, recovering the fumble, and just like that the Owls had a first down at the Cardinals’ twenty-five-yard line.
When Jabril jogged back to the sideline, Alex threw him a big, swinging, enthusiastic high five.
“That quarterback isn’t the stud in this game,” Alex said. “You are.”
“All we got was the first break,” he said. “Now let’s see what we can do with it.”
Jeff Stiles handed the ball twice to Tariq. He got two yards each time. Third-and-six. Jeff dropped back to pass, with Tyler wide open in the left flat. But he overthrew him. Badly.
Fourth down.
“Too close to their end zone to punt,” Jabril said.
Keeping her voice low, so only Jabril could hear, Alex said, “We should run the exact same play again. Jeff can’t possibly airmail him twice in a row.�
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“You sound like one of those announcers commentating on the game,” Jabril said.
“That’s what my dad always says.”
They ran another pass play. To Alex’s disappointment, not the same one they’d just run. It was a crossing pattern to Gabe over the middle. Jeff had enough time to throw, and it was clear Gabe was going to be open as he made his break. But Jeff rushed the play, throwing too soon and too far behind Gabe. The ball was nearly intercepted. But it didn’t matter. The Owls hadn’t done anything with the first break of the game, and they turned the ball right back over to the Cardinals.
Neither team made big mistakes over the rest of the first half. But there weren’t many big plays, either, especially on offense. Then, in the last minute before halftime, Alex Mattis got some time to throw. One of his wide receivers got behind Bryan Chen, and Alex threw a perfect, deep ball. The wide receiver briefly bobbled it but managed to hold on, then took off down the field, while Bryan and Jabril tried to chase him down.
6–0, Cardinals.
That’s how you throw a football, Alex thought to herself, having watched the throw with admiration. That’s how you throw one at any age.
In seventh-grade football you could go for the extra point by running or throwing for the conversion. Two points were given if you kicked it, just because not many seventh graders could kick a ball through the uprights from twenty yards away. Alex thought she could do it if she practiced. Playing soccer for so many years would give her the edge. Sometimes she thought that if she proved to Coach Mencken she could do it, he might let her on the field. She used to watch YouTube videos of US Women’s Soccer star Carli Lloyd kicking field goals from fifty yards away. But Alex was afraid if she asked Coach for a chance to be a placekicker, he might stop seeing her as a quarterback.
And that was the way she saw herself.
Even on the sideline.
She looked down the row of her teammates. The second strings and offensive line. Gabe was among them, watching the field, and Alex wondered if he purposely decided to stand all the way at the other end, away from Alex. She couldn’t figure out if he was giving her the cold shoulder or just randomly wound up on that side of the field.