They called for captains and Marci called the coin. She called for tails and it was heads. France chose to kick off first half and then we took our respective sides of the field again, Coach Tom calling us over to the bench.
He gave us one last pregame speech and then the refs blew the whistle, signaling game time.
I took the field with my team, fist-bumping Jenica before we went our separate ways.
The opposing team’s kickoff didn’t start off as dynamically as China and London had. Several minutes passed, the ball bouncing around on France’s half of the field. Then one of France’s midfielders gained control of the ball and France moved down the field for the first time this game. Bianca was quick to shut them down, taking the ball and giving it back to our offense. By the end of the first quarter I’d touched the ball twice, the least action I’d had all season, competitive included.
“Their star forward is out,” Coach Tom informed us, as we went to grab some water. “But she’s warming up on the sideline as we speak.”
As water break ended, France’s coach substituted their current striker for their previously concussed one.
“I think this game is about to pick up,” Nancy said, as they took their goal kick.
“I think you’re right,” I agreed, as France’s defense took control of the ball.
Their goal was obvious: get the ball to their star forward.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out why, because their right midfielder cut around Bianca and got a pass off to the striker. The striker streaked down the field, her footwork incredible and her speed phenomenal.
Nancy and I both chased her down. I pumped my arms and legs as fast as I could to try to intercept her, my lungs on fire. I intercepted her as she went to take her shot, the ball ricocheting off my foot and out of bounds. With my hands on my hips, I took some time to catch my breath as her team sat up for their throw-in.
“Holy shit,” Cassandra said, raising her eyebrows at me.
“Tell me about it,” I breathed, still gasping for air.
The girl did a flip throw, reaching the center of the goalie box. I jumped up and headed it out; Marci intercepted it and tore up the field.
My hands dug into my hips as I fought to catch my breath.
“We’ve got to keep the ball away from her.”
Less than two seconds after I said that, the ball reached the feet of France’s left midfielder.
“Step up!” I ordered, a bit pissed off.
The midfielder tried to get around Nancy, but couldn’t, and eventually ended up trying to ricochet it off Nancy and out of bounds.
But Nancy saw that coming and intercepted the ball, sending it flying up the field.
“That’s my girl!” I called, running over and giving her a high five.
As the pass came toward their star forward, I stepped up at the last second and intercepted it, dribbling it up a bit before sliding it off through a hole in France’s defense and up to Amy, our current left midfielder.
France’s forward narrowed her eyes at me, as I suddenly became her next target. Amy crossed the ball in and Jenica jumped up, her head connecting with the ball and hitting the back of the net. We were up 1–0. I ran across the field, taking Jenica up in my arms and twirling her around.
As France kicked off and began their drive the ref blew the whistle for halftime.
“She’s good,” Coach Tom said to me, as I reached for my water.
“She’s insanely good,” I corrected. “I can’t keep up with her.”
“If she gets a breakaway we’re toast,” Marci added.
“We have to keep her contained like we did during the second quarter there,” Coach Tom advised. “Without her, they don’t have anything on us.” He walked away to talk to the midfielders.
Jenica slid next to me on the bench. “You have a blessed head,”
I said.
“I don’t know how it happens,” she admitted, laughing.
“It’s beautiful though.”
Halftime passed by way too quickly, and pretty soon we were on the field again, their star forward glaring me down. What’s her problem?
We had kickoff and we started off as we always did, Marci and Jenica taking the ball as far as they could before sending the ball out to Amy.
The third quarter was uneventful, the ball bouncing around but never reaching France’s forward or our strikers.
Things began to heat up in the fourth quarter, as the opposing team realized that they were down a goal and had to hurry up or they’d lose this game. France’s right midfielder faked out Bianca, getting a pass off to France’s forward. I began the race again, my legs and lungs on fire as I propelled myself toward her. I managed to cross in front of her as she went to take a shot off, turning so it ricocheted off my back. My legs were wobbling as I turned back around, Nancy fighting for control of the ball.
“Here!” I shouted, unwilling to let France get a shot off.
Nancy passed it off to me and I cleared it, sending it flying to France’s half of the field.
France’s forward let out a string of French words as she jogged back up with us.
“Merde,” I muttered, as France’s center midfielder gained control of the ball.
Britney fought the center midfielder for the ball, but it was chipped over all of our heads. There was no way I was beating this forward in a footrace, but I took off anyway, unwilling to go down like this. Their forward was caught flat-footed and I had a head start on the ball, much to my advantage. I planted my left foot, aiming to stick my right foot out to the ball to get it back to Cassandra so she could clear it. France’s forward was right behind me and lost her footing, propelling right into my planted leg, or more importantly, my knee. I managed to get the pass off to Cassandra as I hit the ground, pain shooting through my left knee. I clutched my knee to my chest, letting out a whimper of pain and then sucking in through my teeth.
I’d been fortunate enough up to this point in my career to always walk off a spurt of pain. A ball to the face, an elbow to the diaphragm—I’d always gotten back up. But this was different. This felt different. I could vaguely hear Jenica’s voice as I tried to come back to my senses.
Every ounce of me wanted to stand up, but the stabbing pain in my knee was blocking all of my other thoughts. All I could do was hold my knee to my chest, willing the pain to ease up enough for me to clear my head a bit. And then there was a trainer in my line of vision. Then another. The pair of them asked me questions about the pain, about how I was feeling.
“Where does it hurt?” Rebecca asked, the head trainer for the team.
Where? I forced myself to hone in on the pulsing in my knee.
“The inside knee.”
They examined what they could, before Rebecca asked me if I thought I could stand up.
“I think so,” I said, my head still a bit foggy.
As Rebecca pulled me to my feet, the assistant trainer close behind, I felt myself nearly topple over as I put pressure on my right leg.
Pain. Pain. Pain.
Before I knew it, the assistant trainer had me in his arms, carrying me off the field.
Everyone cleared the bench and my knee was propped up, the swelling already starting. Someone had run for ice from the concession stand and it was laid out across my knee.
The game resumed, and as much as I tried to watch it, all my mind could focus on was the different stages of my knee. The sharp pain of the ice compared to the sharp pain in my knee, the pain stages as Rebecca tried to pinpoint the source of the throbbing.
Everything hurt.
From what I was able to comprehend, the last few minutes were uneventful, our team keeping control of the ball up on France’s side of the field, unable to score. They all shook hands after the game and then my team practically surrounded me, questioning me about my knee.
“Disperse,” Rebecca ordered. “There’s a wheelchair on the way.”
A wheelchair? “For me?”
&
nbsp; Rebecca nodded. “We’re going to the emergency room now, so they can make sure nothing is dislocated or broken. And then we’ll get you in for an MRI as soon as we get back to the States, Michael is on the phone now with the team training center.”
Blinking back tears, I tried to comprehend everything that was happening. I was in a foreign country. There was something wrong with my knee. And I didn’t know what to do. I wanted nothing more than to have my mom to break everything down for me. “Okay.”
Jenica took a seat next to me on the bench. “Here.” She handed me her phone. “I called your mom.”
As soon as I pressed the phone to my ear, it was like a floodgate opened up. I immediately broke down into sobs.
“Do you want me to fly out there?” Mom asked, her voice laced with worry. “I can fly home with you, honey. What do you need from me? What can I do to make this better?”
There was no sense in her flying out to be with me. “I’m scared, Mom.”
“I know, honey. I’m going to meet you at LAX, as soon as you land. And we’ll figure this out. I’m so sorry, Katie.”
She talked me through getting loaded into a wheelchair. I took a taxi back, my knee propped up in Rebecca’s lap on the way back to the hotel. Rebecca took over my phone call once we got in the cab, explaining to my mom the next steps to handling my knee injury.
And that’s when I took out my own phone and called the only other person I wanted to talk to.
“Katelyn?” Zach questioned. His voice sounded a bit groggy. “Are you there?”
I tried my best not to cry, not to sound too dramatic. But as soon as I went to say hello, tears came out instead.
“Katelyn?” he asked, his voice sounding alarmed now. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Where are you?”
It was hard to catch my breath after crying so long, hyperventilation starting to set in. “I got hurt.”
He was silent a few moments. “Hurt?”
“My knee. They’re saying it could be bad.”
“Are you headed to the doctor? What’s going on?”
I repeated the information that was told to me by Rebecca. “So I guess we’re headed to the ER now.”
He was silent again. “You scared the shit out of me. I’ve never heard you cry.”
“I’m not usually a crier.” In tough situations, I tend to get angry and my temper flares. But crying had never been something I’d struggled with before. And now I didn’t know how to make it stop.
“It’s okay to cry,” Zach said. “Try not to imagine the worst-case scenario, okay? Once you’re home, we can figure out what our next steps are. We can’t treat it until we know what’s wrong, right?”
His voice was soothing, and my hyperventilating began to calm.
“It’s like you’ve done this before.”
“Hospital testing is a necessary evil. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay not to feel strong. You’ve got a support system that can do that for you right now.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. “I should probably go. Thank you for waking up to calm me down.”
“Always. Be safe, I’ll see you when you get home.”
The next couple of hours went by in a whirlwind. After an X-ray, it was determined that there was nothing broken. I was given a stabilizing knee brace and some crutches, along with a set of pain pills, and sent away.
We pulled up to the hotel, Rebecca signaling for the taxi driver to pull around to the front entrance.
Despite my arguments, I ended up being carried up to my hotel room by Michael. Jenica started singing “Hard-Knock Life” as Michael sat me down, Rebecca grabbing pillows to prop up my knee.
The painkillers from the hospital hadn’t worn off yet, leaving me a bit sleepy as I lay down.
“I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you cry,” Jenica said, after the trainers left. “It absolutely broke my heart.”
“It broke my knee.”
She shook her head in response. “I can’t laugh at that.”
“Me neither.”
Jenica sat down on the edge of her bed, and I glanced down at my knee for the first time since the game. It was starting to bruise, the swelling prominent around the inside.
“Tell me what I can do to help,” Jenica said.
I’d cried to the point where my eyes hurt to blink and my nose was too stuffed to breathe through. Despite the constant pain radiating down my leg, I was completely dried out.
“Take my mind off it,” I said, my voice coming out a bit shaky.
Jenica flipped on the TV. “You know I always travel with my Apple TV. And I know exactly what movie you need right now.”
“Air Bud?”
She pulled her Apple TV out of her bag. “The one and only.”
We spent the rest of the evening binge-watching the best sports-playing dog the cinema has ever seen. And despite Rebecca coming in and out to provide constant care for my knee, nothing could take away from the amount of joy I got from watching Air Bud play a game of soccer.
LOS ANGELES, CA
CHAPTER 28
As soon as we landed in L.A., I was immediately whisked off to the team training center. My mom was waiting for me at the airport, and she refused to let me out of her sight during the MRI and knee brace–fitting process. My heart felt heavy, and it was a relief to have my mom there to take some of the stress off.
The hardest part was being unable to get an immediate response after my MRI test. Since I was being treated at the team center, I had top priority, but I still had to wait a few days for results. Which meant that I would have to attend my team banquet without knowing my future.
The next evening I was back to sitting in a hotel room with Jenica, Marci, and Nancy, all of us jet-lagged and me still in a tremendous amount of pain.
“What are you guys wearing tonight?” Marci asked.
“My mom said it’s a dress event,” I said, as my phone buzzed with a text from Zach.
be safe. i’ll be waiting for you at the airport tomorrow.
“Speaking of the banquet,” Jenica said, checking the time, “we’d better start getting ready.”
“I call bathroom first,” I announced, standing up and grabbing my crutches. “As someone who is temporarily down for the count, you can’t argue with me. Those are the rules.”
The girls all groaned as I hobbled to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
I straightened my hair and applied some makeup before giving up the bathroom to Marci. By the time I was done, my mom was back with a variety of dresses to choose from. And Jenica had taken it upon herself to pick out her favorite one.
I changed into a two-piece dress. The top was white lace with broad, tank-top shoulders. The bottoms were high-waisted and maroon. The top of the waistband met the bottom of my cropped shirt, leaving a peek of skin between. I slid my feet into my white Vans, much to the disgrace of my mom.
“I can change only so much,” I defended. “Let me have this.”
Despite being the first one to do my hair and makeup, I was still the last one ready, as it took me twice as long with my injured knee and bulky brace to get dressed.
We headed down to the hotel banquet room, where there was a buffet of food set up. Mom got me a plate of food and between the four of our families we took up an entire table.
The first half hour was spent chatting and eating. A lot of the team asked me about my diagnosis, and it felt like a rock in the pit of my stomach each time I had to answer.
I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
As the feeling to explode grew stronger, Coach Tom took the stage, cutting off all avenues of conversation. And I couldn’t have been more grateful.
“Welcome to the Limitless Apparel Showcase World Tour banquet!” Coach Tom announced. “Wow, that’s still a mouthful. Tonight we’re going to be recognizing everyone on the team, as well as awarding a couple of girls here with some very special opportunities.”
I exchanged
glances with Jenica.
“I’d like to start by recognizing each player,” Coach Tom announced. “Each player will receive a team uniform, warm-ups, and a customized hoodie and T-shirt, all courtesy of Limitless. And a medal and a certificate. We’ll start with Jenica Terry.”
I clapped for her as she took the stage and accepted her goodies.
“Jenica was one of our lead scorers,” Coach Tom explained, “scoring most of her goals with her head, which is quite the feat. She is a very gifted player and we were lucky to have her on the team.”
Coach Tom went through the team. As he went from offense to defense, he skipped through Marci.
“And now,” Coach Tom said, “and she probably thinks I forgot about her, but we have one of our team captains, Marci Adams.”
We clapped as she took the stage, accepting her gifts.
“Marci was also one of the lead scorers on the team,” Coach Tom explained. “She was a leader on and off the field, exemplifying courage and bravery. It was an honor to work with you.”
She waited out a few pictures before returning to her seat, her eyes bright with tears.
“And then last, but certainly not least, we have Katelyn Jackson, our other team captain,” Coach Tom announced.
Nobody prepares you for how incredibly awkward it was to use crutches. As I made my way to the front of the room, I was acutely aware of how ridiculous I looked.
“I’ll take your gift bag to the table for you,” the stagehand said.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Katelyn is a brick wall back on defense,” Coach Tom said. “She’s willing to sacrifice herself, as you can see, for the sake of the game.”
That earned a laugh from my team, only increasing how uncomfortable this entire experience was.
“Katelyn was not only an asset to the team, but the definition of a leader. She works hard off the field to achieve what she has so far, and I have no doubt that she’ll only continue to grow.”
I posed for a few pictures before heading back to my seat, the stagehand bringing my stuff over as promised.
Along for the Ride Page 22