by Nancy Star
“I should have listened to you,” Winslow said. “You are always right. I don’t know why I don’t always listen to you.”
“Listen now. Come to bed.”
“I will. In a bit. I just need some time to think, all right? I’m so close to figuring this out. So very, very close.” He closed his eyes and wished her away.
Vicki went up alone, again.
Twenty-seven
POWER POINTERS—Special Edition News of the Day!!!
SEPTEMBER 9TH
Special Notice!
Please Note: THIS NOTICE WILL NOT BE REPEATED!
It has come to my attention that parents have been logging onto the Soccer News Web site forum, against my explicit advice.
Anyone who has visited this forum knows how dangerous it is to engage in online discussion with those whom you cannot see.
Today, I have registered complaints with the Mountain Ridge Travel Soccer Board, the New Jersey Soccer Board of Regents, and the United Youth Soccer Coaches of the Northeastern League of Central New Jersey Section IA, requesting their help in shutting this site down.
I feel quite strongly that this site is bad for all of youth soccer. But I am sorry to report that my contacts at the Soccer Board of Regents tell me shutting down the site is not likely to happen anytime soon, due to issues relating to various government-sponsored freedoms of speech, etcetera.
Therefore, it is up to us to set an example for all teams. With this in mind, as of today, Please NOTE:
No Power Parent or Player is permitted to log onto the Soccer News Web site forum at any time, for any reason whatsoever!
ALSO NOTE: This is a zero-tolerance situation. Even compliments posted on the forum can provoke responses from people who are too jealous or dull to understand what our team is working so hard to accomplish!
FINAL NOTE: If anyone has a comment or complaint about the prohibited soccer forum postings or about any other subject, please speak to me directly. Conversations among parents on the sidelines are unproductive for all!!
IMPORTANT NOTE: I am not available for conversation on the days before game or tournament weekends or directly before or after practice as I am concentrating on developing player strategy at those times!!!
Good Luck to One and All from Winslow West!!!!
Twenty-eight
The plan came to Roy at halftime at the next game.
A Ludlow mother was walking across the field to bring a bag of snacks to the players. Her dog, a Great Dane the size of a horse, followed her.
Halfway there, in the middle of the field, the dog stopped. He lifted his tail. He lowered his butt. The parents went nuts.
The woman did the best she could. She pulled the dog. She yanked the leash. But the dog was big, and he wasn’t about to budge.
When he finished his business, the woman took a yellow newspaper wrapper out of her back pocket and cleaned up the mess. Even from where he stood, Roy could see she was cleaning it well, even pulling up some grass and clumps of dirt to make sure she got every last bit.
The way the Asteroid parents exploded, you’d think she’d smeared crap all over their kids’ mouths. There was cursing and yelling and barking. The ref started showing yellow cards like he was dealing poker. It took a while to calm everyone down. Then the game started up again.
Roy was amazed. The Asteroids played like it was the first game of their lives, like they had no idea what they were doing. Then he realized it was because they were so busy watching where they stepped.
And he thought, hold on—hold on a minute. That’s all it takes to get their heads out of the game? A little dog crap? That’s how he got the idea.
It didn’t take him long to prepare. If there was a travel team for dog crapping, Nadine’s dog would be the star player. Roy saved a bunch of bags of crap in a corner of the garbage shed, where no one ever went, except for him. Then he went to the Web site to find the location and time of the next Power home game.
Rain would have screwed up the plan, but for once he was in luck. The night before the game was clear and warm. He told Maura he was going to the Soccer-Plex to work. Instead he drove over to the field. He’d already decided where to empty the bags. He’d watched the Power games enough times to know that the weakest players on the field, the ones who were taking up Nadine’s spot on the roster, often left their positions, migrating as far away as they could from where Winslow stood, as if maybe then they wouldn’t hear him yelling.
The Asteroids had a game the next morning too, but he simply told Maura there was a problem at the Plex—something about a pipe in the third stall of the boys room.
“I don’t need to know which stall,” Maura said. “Just try to get to the game before the end.”
As soon as Maura and Nadine left, Roy shoved a baseball cap on his head and drove to the field where the Power game was already under way. By his calculation, it was sometime late in the first half.
The dog’s deposits had done their job. The Power looked tentative on the field. He watched as a girl with red hair ran like a marionette with uneven strings, afraid of where her feet would land her next.
The red-haired girl had one and then another collision. Her eyes were locked on her feet. Wham—she rammed into a player for the third time.
The ref pulled out a card. Roy hadn’t been there to see her get the yellow, but this time the card the ref pulled out of his pocket was red. The girl with the red braids stopped. She put her arms out, the universal sign for “What did I do?” The ref motioned for her to get off the field.
“What was that?” Winslow yelled at her as she stormed to the sidelines. His arms flapped in the air as he yelled, like some big bird of prey not quite ready to land. “What is wrong with you?”
He turned toward the ref. “That was a stumble, not a foul.” The ref reached into his jacket and showed Winslow a yellow card. Winslow let his arms fall to his side and gave the ref his back.
By halftime the Power were down three, and the girls that weren’t crying were poking sticks in the valleys between the cleats of their shoes to clean out the mess.
Shoe-wise, the Hillcrest Bombers were doing no better, but the Bombers thought it was funny. The Bombers laughed as they scraped away the crud.
The ref agreed to extend the halftime break so Winslow and the Mountain Ridge parents could clean up the field. Winslow walked quickly, pointing out piles to his manager, Ken. Barbie, Ken’s wife, followed behind with rolls of paper towels, ripping off bunches of sheets and stooping to pick up the squashed pats of dung as quickly as she could.
The Bomber parents near Roy argued amiably about whether this field, spoiled by dog crap, was worse than the one in West Rumsford, where last month one of the players nearly sprained her ankle in a gopher hole.
Which was how Roy got the idea for the holes.
He was in luck. The next game was a home game too. But this time his work was harder. The digging went slowly. Camouflaging the holes went even more slowly. He needed to do it, though. The last thing he wanted was for Winslow to spot half a dozen grass plugs on the field right before the game got under way.
The truth was, Roy thought, Winslow should be thanking him. Because it wasn’t the good players who were going to be affected by these annoyances. The good players wouldn’t let something as stupid as stepping into a pile of crap mess up their game. No. The players who were going to find dog crap and gopher holes too much to cope with were the players who didn’t belong on the team in the first place. And if those players left, there would be more room for the ones who really did belong on the team. Players like Nadine. Nadine deserved a chance.
This time he couldn’t watch at all. The Asteroids had a game at the exact same time, and no way was Maura going to let him miss two in a row. Afterward, he read about it on the Power Web site.
“Look at this,” he said to Maura. “One of the Power players got hurt at the game today.”
“Who?” Maura asked. “If it’s their goalie, that’s not news
. Their goalie gets hurt all the time.”
She turned her attention back to a stack of real estate print-outs. “Don’t you think this center-hall colonial looks exactly like ours? It’s much cheaper, though.” She studied the tear sheet. “No basement,” she said, when she figured it out.
“Is their goalie named Dinah?” Roy asked.
“What?” Maura stood up and came to read over his shoulder. “Winslow’s daughter got hurt?”
“Dinah is Winslow’s daughter?”
“You’re kidding me right? You don’t know who Dinah is? The little girl with the red hair who looks like a miniature clone of her mother?”
“Sure. I know who she is. I hope she’s okay.” Roy felt a little sick to his stomach.
Nadine came in and joined them, the whole family gathered around the computer screen, like it was a campfire.
“Uh-oh,” Nadine said after reading the news. “That’s bad. The Power have a big tournament coming up. Winslow is going to be mad if Dinah’s not better by then.”
“Knock, knock,” Roy said.
“Who’s there?” Nadine answered.
“Opportunity,” Roy said. “Opportunity for you.”
Maura said, “What the hell are you talking about, Roy?”
“I’m talking about maybe Nadine can guest at the next Power tournament. If they’re short an important player, they could use someone like Nadine to step in.”
“Oh,” Maura said. “Roy, you are so smart.”
“Winslow won’t let me guest,” Nadine said. “He doesn’t think I’m that good.”
“Don’t be negative,” Maura snapped. “You are much better than you think. You just don’t know it because you’re spending too much time with loser players.” She turned to Roy. “Can you get Winslow to invite Nadine to guest?”
“I can try,” Roy said.
“I don’t want to guest,” Nadine said, but the only one who heard was the dog, and he showed no sign at all that he cared.
Twenty-nine
Annie laid out her new clothes on the bed. She hadn’t had time to try them on in the soccer store, but the woman said years of dressing customers who were on the go had made her an expert at eyeballing sizes. She absolutely guaranteed everything would fit perfectly, like a dream.
She neglected to say what kind of dream, but it was obvious now. The shorts and jersey Annie had bought were nightmarishly small. And what had she been thinking when she let herself be talked into pumpkin-colored socks?
She yanked at the plastic sales tag on the tiny shorts. When it wouldn’t come off, she tried pulling it with her teeth. Finally, she grabbed a pair of scissors. As she cut off the tag, she cut the shorts as well.
Why was she so nervous? Sure, she had never played a sport before. Okay, she had no idea if she would be any good. But Gerri had promised it wouldn’t be a problem. No one on the team had great soccer skills, she’d said. Everyone played to have fun.
“I swear on the socca-Bible,” Gerri said. “If Winslow West decided tomorrow he wanted to have an elite team of soccer moms to compete in a tournament with the greatest soccer players ever, we’d all tell him no.”
Annie slipped on the shorts, which pinched at her waist. She put on the soccer jersey—weren’t the jerseys supposed to be loose?—and tugged so it would cover the hole that she’d made in the shorts. She was as ready as she was ever going to be.
The truth was, telling Gerri that Charlotte was about to leave the Asteroids was going to be awkward no matter what. But putting off calling Winslow was not going to make the conversation with Gerri any easier. In fact, if Annie didn’t call him soon, she could end up jeopardizing Charlotte’s entire soccer career. Because what if Winslow changed his mind? Annie had to call him now.
She took a deep breath and picked up the phone. She’d make the call, deal with Gerri, and it would be done. She waited for a dial tone. Why was there no dial tone?
“Hello?” came a voice. “Annie?” It was Hank.
“Did the phone ring?” Annie asked. “I didn’t hear it.”
“I don’t know,” Hank said. “All I know is you picked up. So how are you, stranger?”
“I’m fine,” Annie said. They were not exactly phone buddies. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is good. Really good. Listen, I’m calling about my brother.”
“Is Tim okay?”
“That’s what I want to ask you.”
“Why?” Annie wanted to know. “Did something happen?”
“No. Well, yes. Timmy stopped over the house when I was out of town. And Trissy said he didn’t look very good. She said he seemed kind of weird. So I figured I’d call and ask. Is everything okay?”
“Tim’s fine,” Annie said. “But he does want to talk to you. Are you around today?”
“I’m still out of town. Do you know what Timmy wants to talk to me about? Trissy has pretty good radar about this kind of stuff, and she thinks something’s going on.”
“Tim is fine,” Annie said. “But you should give him a call. When are you going to be back?”
“How about on the home front?” Hank persisted. “Are things okay at home? You can tell me anything, Annie. I’m not Trissy. I don’t judge. Unlike my wife, I know that none of us is perfect.”
Annie felt a rare wave of sympathy for her sister-in-law. “We’re fine,” she said.
“What about Charlotte? Is everything okay with her?”
“Charlotte is great,” Annie said. “She just started playing travel soccer and it’s going extremely well. Why do you ask?”
“Trissy told me about the soccer. She also mentioned that Timmy’s missed a lot of the games. She said you’ve had to drop Charlotte at the house a few times.”
“I left her there once,” Annie said.
“I’m not trying to put you on the spot,” Hank said. “It’s just Trissy and I are worried that something’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong,” Annie insisted. “Everything is great.” To seal the deal she added, “In fact Charlotte just got offered a chance to move up to the Power.”
“No kidding,” Hank said. “Wow. Trissy didn’t tell me that.”
“It’s not official,” Annie said. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it yet.”
“Whatever you tell me goes right in the vault,” Hank said. “You can tell me anything. I mean it. Anything.”
“I give up, Hank. What is it you’re fishing to find out?”
“Hey,” Hank said, sounding hurt. “All I’m trying to do is to get a handle on what’s going on with my baby brother, that’s all. Like, today for example. Where is he today?”
“Atlanta,” Annie said.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. What’s with all the trips to Atlanta? Does Timmy have another family down there or something?”
“That’s an awful thing to say.”
“I’m kidding,” Hank said. “We both know my brother’s too boring to have a second family.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“Okay, Annie. When you talk to Tim, tell him I tried to reach him in Atlanta and that I’m not funny. I don’t think the second part is going to be any big news to him. And by the way, contrary to popular opinion, I am not completely self-absorbed. Okay? I notice what’s going on around me. And I worry about Timmy.”
“Well, you don’t have to. Tim’s fine. We’re all fine.”
“Okay. Whatever you say. And congratulations about Charlotte. That’s one hell of an accomplishment, getting on Winslow West’s team. Maybe my brother is doing better than I thought.”
Annie hung up the phone. A car honked. She looked out the window. It was Gerri, waiting for her.
She picked up the phone to call Winslow. Gerri honked again. She’d have to call as soon as she got back.
“You don’t look happy,” Gerri said as Annie slid into the car. “Anything wrong?”
She sounded so sympathetic. Annie wondered if she would still be sympathetic after she heard
Charlotte was going to quit her team. And what about managing the team? Was Annie supposed to stay on as team manager after Charlotte left?
“You want to talk about it?” Gerri asked. “We’re like family now, you know? I’m here for you. You’re here for me.”
Annie decided to send out a probe. “What would you think if Charlotte had an opportunity to move up to Winslow’s team?”
“Not you too,” Gerri said. “Look. I’m sorry. It’s just that people have the oddest ideas about how this works. But I understand. You’re new. So let me explain it to you. Once in a blue moon, after the soccer season’s started, there’s some movement from team to team. But right now, the move date is past and, more important, the Power are at their maximum number of players. Which means the team is frozen. Totally. No more players allowed. End of story.”
“I’m sure that’s normally true.”
“Believe me, everyone thinks their kid is going to be the one exception. But I’m telling you. I’ve been doing this for a long time. It’s never happened. And it’s never going to happen. Once a team roster is at the max it’s set in stone.”
Gerri glanced over at Annie. “Look, it’s not as bad as you think. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m not such a bad coach. I can teach Charlotte a lot. I know she’s a really socca-rific player. But it won’t be the worst thing for her to spend a season with me. Next year is another story. Next year I’m sure she’ll have the opportunity to move up. If she wants that life. And I’m not so sure she will.”
“But what if an offer did come?” Annie asked. “Would you be really upset if Charlotte moved up to Winslow’s team? Of course, if Charlotte left the team it wouldn’t make sense for me to continue as manager, would it?”
“Ha!” Gerri laughed. “Imagine what a socca-nightmare that would be, managing a team where the parents literally wish you dead. You’d have to have done something really bad in a past last life to deserve that.”
“So if Charlotte moved up now, you’d be fine if I resigned as manager?”
“Yes. If Charlotte moved up now, you’d have to resign as manager. But you’d also be able to sprout wings and fly whenever you wanted, and you could pick money off of trees. Which is to say, it isn’t happening. But if it did, I would say, great news. If she wants it, go for it.” Gerri pulled into a spot at the park.