Out of Bounds

by Fred Bowen

  Chapter 9

  Nate turned the key to the front door and stepped inside with Sergio. The house was quiet. There were no lights except for the afternoon October sun streaming in the windows.

  Sergio pointed to Matty, the West Highland Terrier snoring softly on the dog bed in the corner. “Man, that dog is always asleep.”

  “He doesn’t sleep that much,” Nate said, defending his dog.

  “Are you kidding?” Sergio exclaimed. “I’m over at your house all the time and I never see him awake.”

  “He wakes up,” Nate said. “To go pee and poop in the backyard.”

  Sergio made a face. “Remind me never to play in your backyard.”

  “Anyway, give him a break,” Nate said. “He’s old.”

  “How old?”

  “We’re not sure. We got him from a rescue league. But he’s about fifteen years old. Maybe sixteen.”

  Sergio did the math in his head. “If you figure seven dog years for every human year, he’s…105!”

  “Or 112.”

  “You’re right,” Sergio agreed. “He’s old. Let him sleep.”

  “Come on.” Nate headed toward the stairs. “Let’s check out the league website.”

  “Again?”

  “Come on.”

  The two boys sprinted up the steps, with Nate taking them two at a time. They tossed their backpacks on Nate’s bed. Nate turned on the laptop on his desk, tapped a few keys, and stared at the screen. When the website came up, he clicked on the icon labeled “League Standings.”

  Team Record [W-L-T] Points

  Monarchs 6–0–0 18

  Strikers 5–0–1 16

  Devils 5–1–0 15

  United 3–2–1 10

  Rush 3–3–0 9

  Sabres 2–2–2 8

  Vipers 2–3–1 7

  Barracudas 1–4–1 3

  Sharks 0–6–0 0

  Rapids 0–6–0 0

  Nate and Sergio studied the numbers. The Strikers were two points behind the Monarchs.

  “That tie really hurt us,” Nate said, stating the obvious.

  “We’re still undefeated,” Sergio protested.

  “So are the Monarchs. And they don’t have a tie. That’s why this week’s game against them is so important. If we lose, there’s no way we can catch them.”

  Nate clicked on another heading and the league’s schedule of games appeared on the screen.

  “The Monarchs play the Devils on the last week of the season,” Nate declared. “Maybe the Monarchs will lose that game.”

  Sergio shook his head. “No way. The Monarchs will win against them.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Nate said. “The Devils are pretty good. Remember, we were lucky to beat them back in early October. And they’ve gotten better.”

  Sergio nudged Nate’s arm and pointed at the keyboard. “How are you doing in the goal-scoring race? Look it up.”

  Nate’s fingers danced across the keyboard. Another row of names and numbers appeared on the screen.

  Name Team Goals

  Sean McCarthy Devils 8

  Nate Osborne Strikers 6

  Hunter Thomas Monarchs 6

  J. J. Locke Sabres 6

  Tyler Westgate United 5

  “How did Sean McCarthy get in front?” Sergio asked.

  “I think he scored three goals against the Rapids.”

  “You’re kidding!” Sergio said. “Their defense wasn’t that bad. How many goals did you score against them?”

  “One.”

  “One? Why didn’t you score more?”

  Nate pointed an accusing finger at Sergio. “Because you didn’t get me the ball,” he teased. “You’re always hogging it.” Before his friend could defend himself, Nate added, “But it doesn’t matter because I’m still ahead in the big scoring race.”

  “What are you talking about?

  “I’ve got a bet with my Aunt Lizzie,” Nate explained. “Whoever scores the most goals wins. Right now, I’ve got six goals and Lizzie has five. So I’m one goal ahead in our bet.”

  “What do you get if you win?”

  A big grin spread across Nate’s face. “Cookies,” he said. “Homemade chocolate chip cookies. So you’ve got to get me the ball.”

  “If I do,” Sergio said. “Do I get some of the cookies?”

  “Sure, I’ll give you some. But you have to pass me the ball.”

  Sergio’s face lit up. “For homemade cookies? I’m definitely passing you the ball. All day long!”

  Chapter 10

  A cool autumn wind swept across the SoccerPlex. Nate and Sergio bounced up and down on the sidelines trying to stay warm. They were too excited to stand still anyway.

  The game with the Monarchs was finally here.

  “Bring it in!” Coach Lyn shouted.

  The Strikers huddled close around their coach for their final instructions. “I don’t have to tell you this is a big game.” He looked around at the players. “Stevie, you have to mark Hunter Thomas. Stay close to him. Don’t give him room to operate. Sergio, you and the other midfielders have to drop back and help on defense. Nate, be aggressive. You have to test their defense. If you get a chance to shoot, take it.”

  The coach reached his hand out. One by one the team members put their hands on top of his. Nate could feel the growing anticipation in the tight circle.

  “We’ve waited all year for this game,” Coach Lyn said. “Give it everything you’ve got.” He paused and the entire team chanted, “One…two…three…hustle!”

  The Strikers had to hustle, because the Monarchs were good. Very good. During the first few minutes, they moved the ball crisply from player to player until Hunter ripped off a first shot. Stevie was just close enough to the Monarchs’ star forward that he couldn’t get a clear shot on net, and the ball flew wide of the goal.

  “All right!” Cam shouted, making a fist with his goalkeeper gloves. “Good play, defense. Way to go, Stevie!”

  The game settled into a defensive struggle. Every ball was a battle. Nate barely had room to breathe because the Monarchs’ best defender, Luke Jaworski, was marking him like a shadow. Nate couldn’t shake him. He felt a hand or elbow on him almost anywhere he went.

  The first half ended in a scoreless tie. “A tie hurts us a lot more than it hurts them,” Nate said, thinking back to the league standings.

  “Then we’d better win,” Sergio said.

  The second half was more middle field play and tight defense. Nate drifted on the edge of the action, getting frustrated at the lack of scoring chances.

  Then a ball floated down the middle into the Monarchs’ half of the field. Nate, Sergio, and two Monarch defenders converged on the play, positioning themselves for a header.

  Sergio’s taller than me, Nate thought as he approached the clutch of players. He’s got a better chance to win the ball. So Nate didn’t jump with the others. Instead, he spun toward the Monarchs goal.

  His bet paid off. Sergio won the midair fight and headed the ball to Nate, who controlled it with one quick touch.

  I don’t have much time, he thought as he raced downfield. The Monarchs defense is already after me. I’d better kick it hard and hope it’s on goal.

  Nate brought back his right foot and fired a hard shot toward the far post. The ball curved around the keeper, glanced off the inside of the post, and tucked into the corner of the net.

  Goal! The Strikers led 1–0.

  As the Strikers celebrated, Nate reminded them the game wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. “There’s plenty of time left!” he shouted. “We’ve got to play tight D!”

  The Monarchs were now on full attack, no holding back. They were desperate to tie the game. Their passes were quick and left the Strikers defense scrambling to catch up.

  With about ten minutes left in the game, a Monarchs midfielder slipped a pass to Hunter, who was racing through a crack in the Strikers defense. Hunter squeezed past Stevie and chipped a soft shot over Cameron’s diving att
empt at a save. The ball bounced into the goal.

  Just like that, the score was tied, 1–1.

  Nate could feel the energy seeping out of his teammates. “Come on, Strikers!” he yelled. “We’ve still got time. We can win this game!”

  The Monarchs tightened their defense. Hunter and his teammates looked like they were happy to play for a tie.

  We can’t settle for a tie, Nate thought as he patrolled midfield. If I get an opening, I’ve got to be aggressive. We have to gain three points in the standings—not just one.

  With a couple of minutes left in the game, a long pass found Nate and Luke jockeying for position. Nate controlled the ball with his chest about twenty-five yards away from the Monarchs goal. Luke was still marking him closely. Nate could feel his hand on his back.

  Nate faked left and spun right, hoping to lose Luke and head to the goal. As he spun free, Nate heard a strange cracking sound, almost like the snapping of a twig.

  Unnhh! Luke groaned and fell away.

  Suddenly Nate was in open space with a clear path to the goal and a chance to win the game!

  But he glanced back and saw Luke crumpled on the pitch, reaching for his right ankle. The referee, who was far away from the play, had not blown his whistle. Still, Nate heard his Aunt Lizzie’s voice in his head. “You want to win, but you want to win the right way. Not because someone got hurt.”

  Almost without thinking, Nate took two quick steps and left-footed the ball across the right sideline. Out of bounds.

  Chapter 11

  Sergio, who was rushing down the center of the field hoping for a crossing pass, stopped dead in his tracks.

  “What are you doing?” he shouted at Nate, his arms spread wide.

  Nate circled back to Luke, who was still on the ground holding his ankle. “He’s hurt,” Nate explained.

  “So…so what?” Sergio sputtered with his fists clenched at his side. “The ref didn’t blow the whistle.”

  Luke rolled over on his back, and the referee finally ran up and crossed his hands over his head. He blew his whistle and shouted, “My time!”

  The Monarchs coach jogged onto the field and helped Luke to the sidelines. The defender was still favoring his right ankle. A Monarchs substitute ran onto the pitch.

  Nate and Sergio stood off to the side as the referee signaled that it was Monarchs ball on a throw-in.

  “We don’t even get the ball,” Sergio said, gritting his teeth.

  “They’ll give it right back,” Nate replied.

  “Says who?”

  “They’re supposed to.”

  Sergio shook his head. “You had a chance to go for the goal…or pass it to me. I was wide open. We could have scored. We could have beat these guys.”

  Nate looked at Luke standing on one foot on the Monarchs sideline. “I didn’t want to score with him lying on the ground. I mean…that doesn’t seem right.”

  “Play the whistle,” Sergio said. “We’ve been taught that ever since U-6 soccer. Remember? Anyway, do you think any of the Monarchs would have kicked the ball out of bounds just because one of us might have been hurt?”

  Nate wasn’t 100 percent sure of the answer to that question.

  The referee blew his whistle to resume play. To Nate’s surprise, the Monarchs didn’t pass the ball in to the Strikers. Instead, they passed the ball in to a defender, who boomed a long kick out of the Monarchs end.

  Sergio shot Nate a disgusted look as the two players chased the action downfield.

  Nate felt confused. I thought for sure Lizzie would know what she was talking about after that game, he thought as he raced down the field. The two teams continued to battle over every possession. Not only did the Monarchs not give the Strikers the ball, they gave the Strikers nothing. The Monarchs were playing just as hard as in the beginning of the game.

  This isn’t turning out the way Aunt Lizzie said it would, Nate thought.

  Finally the whistle blew. The Strikers and the Monarchs had tied, 1–1. But looking at the two teams, anyone would have thought the Monarchs had won and the Strikers had lost. The Monarchs traded high fives while the Strikers drifted over to their bench.

  “Another tie,” Sergio growled as he slammed his equipment into his gym bag. “When are we going to beat those guys?”

  “We’ll beat them in the championship game,” Nate said, trying to convince himself.

  “If we make the championship game.” Sergio swung his equipment bag over his shoulder. “By the way, I thought you said they were going to give us the ball back.”

  Nate could hear the anger in Sergio’s voice. “They were supposed to,” Nate said.

  “Well, they didn’t. Who said they would?”

  “My Aunt Liz. She played in college, remember?”

  Sergio’s face twisted into a scowl. “Is this some sort of girls’ rule or something?”

  “No.” Nate could feel his face getting warm. “It’s not really a rule, it’s…it’s…just the way you’re supposed to play. You don’t want to win just because someone got hurt. At least that’s what Lizzie said.”

  “Well, whatever it is, it didn’t work out so great for us.” Sergio turned and walked away. “See you around.”

  Nate wandered over to his parents and Aunt Lizzie. “Great goal!” his parents enthused. Nate had almost forgotten his goal.

  His aunt seemed to read Nate’s mind. “Hey, what’s with the Monarchs?” she asked. “Why didn’t they give you the ball back after you kicked it out of bounds?”

  Nate shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly he felt very tired. “I guess they didn’t know they were supposed to.”

  “That’s a bogus way to play.” Aunt Liz put her arm around Nate’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m proud of you. You played it the right way. That’s what’s important.”

  Nate glanced back at the scoreboard one more time. There was nothing he could do to change the score: 1–1. A tie.

  Standing on the sidelines with the cool wind sweeping across the fields, Nate went over the game again in his mind. His goal. Hunter’s equalizer. Luke’s injury. Nate could almost see the open path to the goal before him again. Then he remembered making the decision to kick the ball out of bounds.

  He still wondered: had he played it the right way?

  Chapter 12

  “We’d better clear the table,” Nate’s father said as he pushed back his chair.

  Nate grabbed the plates and slipped them into the dishwasher. “When do you think Mom will get home from her office?” he asked.

  “She’ll be out pretty late. She has to prepare for that conference in Atlanta next week.”

  Nate placed the silverware in the plastic rack.

  “By the way, how was practice today?” his father asked.

  Nate grabbed a sponge and wiped the kitchen counter. “Okay, I guess,” he said. “Sergio was still making noises about me kicking the ball out of bounds against the Monarchs.”

  His father waved it off. “Don’t let him give you a hard time. Lizzie said you played it right. She should know.” He pointed to the steps leading upstairs. “Go on and do your homework. I’ll finish up in here.”

  Nate sat down at his computer to start his assignment, but he decided to check his e-mail first. “Hey,” he said to himself softly, “I wonder what this is from Lizzie.” He opened the message.

  From: Elizabeth Cooney

  Subject: Soccer film

  Date: October 26

  To: Nate Osborne

  Hey, Nate—

  I was talking to another sportswriter today about your game and the whole out-of-bounds thing. He sent me this YouTube link to a pro soccer game recorded a couple of years ago. Thought you might like it. Maybe you can show it to Sergio to get him off your case. See you this weekend.

  Aunt Lizzie

  BTW…I told my teammates I’m a goal behind in our bet. So watch out, they’re going to feed me the ball…BIG TIME!

  Nate chuckled. Lizzie sure wants to win that bet.
>
  He clicked on the link. The film of a soccer game appeared on the screen. One team was in yellow jerseys and the other in red. An announcer speaking in a foreign language shouted over the noise from the stadium crowd. A player in yellow was lying on the pitch, holding his ankle. A forward on the red team kicked the ball from fifty yards out toward the yellow team’s goalkeeper.

  He’s giving them the ball back, Nate thought. Just like Lizzie said you should.

  But the ball flew over the keeper’s head and into the yellow team’s goal. “I don’t believe it!” Nate blurted out. “The red team scored!”

  The slow-motion instant replay showed the goal again. The ball sailed perfectly into the upper corner of the net. The red-shirted forward held his hands to his sides as if to say he had not meant to score the goal. Harsh whistles from the stadium crowd filled the air. The crowd was not happy.

  The game started again. A yellow team defender skipped a long pass down the pitch. A yellow forward raced ahead and controlled the ball with a quick touch just before it bounced over the end line. He spun and after a touch or two kicked the ball into the wide-open red team’s net. The red team’s defense and goalkeeper did not make a move to stop him.

  Nate watched the tape again. His brain could barely make sense of what he was seeing.

  “Man, the red team let the yellow team score a goal just to make things fair,” Nate said out loud. “I guess that’s what Lizzie meant by winning the right way.”

  He pulled his chair closer to his computer. He clicked on the forward button and typed out an e-mail to Sergio.

  From: Nate Osborne

  Subject: Soccer film

  Date: October 26

  To: Sergio Hernandez

  My aunt sent me this really cool soccer clip (see link below). You should definitely watch it…just so you know I’m not completely nuts about the out-of-bounds thing.

  See you at school. We’d better beat the Rush on Saturday.

  Later,

  Nate

  Chapter 13

  “Get back!” the Strikers coach shouted. “Get back!”