As they walked out, Coach J put an arm around Andi. “I’m truly sorry about this,” he said. “You don’t deserve any of this. I started all this in September, and you hung right in there through it all. I just want to say, I’m proud to have coached you.”
Looking at him, Andi could tell he was sincere. “Thanks, Coach,” she said. “That means a lot to me.”
Which it did.
39
Once Andi let Jeff know about the meeting with Mr. Block, there wasn’t any doubt in his mind that his dad and his friends would be at the game on Friday.
In fact, his father decided to let everyone he knew in the media know about the story. “The more the merrier in a case like this,” he said. “If the King of Prussia coach sees the place overrun by media, he’ll have to tell his players to back off and play clean.”
“We hope,” Jeff said.
His dad nodded. “We hope,” he repeated.
While his father was contacting others in the media, Jeff texted Andi and suggested she let Stevie Thomas know what was going on. His dad had told him Mike Vaccaro had said he was going to come down from New York. Bringing media from New York and Washington into the picture in addition to the locals couldn’t hurt.
Andi told Jeff that Coach J wasn’t going to say anything to the team because he was still hoping that Mr. Block’s phone call to the King of Prussia principal and the sight of a bevy of media might force the coach to back off.
When she called him on Thursday night to tell her that Stevie Thomas was coming and to find out what local media might be there, he asked her if Mr. Block had reported back on his talk with the KP–North principal.
“He spoke to my mom,” she said. “He wasn’t very encouraging. He said the guy claimed this was the first he had heard about his coach or any of his players going after any girl on an opposing team.”
“What happened when Mr. Block told him about the phone call?” Jeff asked.
“He said he would check into it and get back to him if he thought there was any reason to worry or for him to take action.”
“Doesn’t sound like he was too upset, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said. “I’m not worried, though. I can take care of myself out there.”
If she was trying to sound brave—it was working. Jeff could hear steel in her voice.
* * *
Friday was a glorious fall day. By the time school let out, the temperature was in the low sixties with just a hint of a breeze. The leaves on the trees surrounding the soccer field were turning fall colors, and there was a large crowd on hand for a sixth-grade soccer game. It looked as if most of Merion Middle had turned out. The seventh-and-eighth-grade team didn’t play until Saturday morning, so the team was there in force to lead cheers. There were also a lot of people who had come down from King of Prussia.
Not to mention the media turnout. Jeff counted at least four camera crews, plus a number of reporters he remembered from September.
Andi had told him that Mr. Block—who was also on hand—had told her parents he’d never heard back from the principal at KP–North. So be it, Jeff thought. He just wanted the game to start.
It was impossible not to notice the size of the KP–North players. It wasn’t so much their height as their bulk. Their style of play was simple—go straight at the opponent with the ball and dare the other team to stop them.
What they lacked was speed; that was where Merion had an advantage. On a number of occasions when it appeared KP–North had a numbers advantage, Merion players were able to peel back into the play and deflect passes or knock the ball away.
It was speed that gave Merion its first real scoring chance of the afternoon about twenty minutes into the first half.
Zack Roth made a sweet move on a KP–North midfielder and burst into the offensive zone with the ball. The KP defense was forced to come up to meet him, and he quickly shoveled a pretty pass to Andi on the left. She had room to maneuver.
Surprisingly, the defense was slow to get someone to her, and she dribbled into the penalty box with the ball on her foot and space to shoot. Jeff, trailing the play, thought for sure Merion was about to go ahead.
But instead of shooting, Andi tried to pass the ball to Arlow—who was well covered. KP’s defense broke the play up and one of the defenders kicked it back upfield to safety.
Jeff was baffled. Why hadn’t Andi taken an open shot?
“Guess the girl’s afraid to shoot, huh?” one of the KP defenders said as the ball headed upfield.
Andi was in earshot and reddened at the comment—but said nothing.
Late in the half, KP’s striker, a kid named Ted Pratt, knocked down a corner kick, pushed Danny Diskin away from him, and fired the ball past Bobby Woodward to make it 1–0. Danny screamed for a foul, but the referee simply pointed at the net to indicate the goal was good.
In the final minute, Merion had another chance. This time it was Mike Craig who started the play. He made a stutter-step move on a KP midfielder and had open space. He blew into the offensive zone, and after looking at both Andi and Arlow, dropped a pass to Jeff, who was trailing him.
Then he set what was essentially a basketball screen on a KP defender, getting in between him and Jeff to allow Jeff to go by—which he did. As Jeff reached the penalty area, a defender moved to stop him, which left Andi open on the left.
Jeff dished the ball to her, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, having been taken down hard by the defender right as he passed the ball. He rolled over, feeling pain in his ribs just in time to see one of KP’s midfielders take down Andi from behind as she was about to shoot. She fell, too, and the ball rolled harmlessly to the goalie.
Jeff waited to hear a whistle. None was forthcoming. He heard Arlow screaming, “Are you blind, ref? They took down two of our guys in the penalty box.”
Andi was on her feet, also pleading for a foul.
The referee walked over to Arlow and showed him a yellow card. “Clean tackles,” he said. “Not another word if you want to stay in this game.”
Jeff slowly got up, holding his ribs. He desperately wanted to say something but knew that was a bad idea. Andi came over.
“You okay?” she said.
“Got kicked in the ribs,” he said. “I’ll live. You?”
“Fine,” she said. Then she smiled. “I took a little bit of a dive. I thought two of us down would force him to make a call. Guess I was wrong.”
Seconds later, the halftime whistle blew. They walked slowly to the bench, Arlow still shaking his head about the no-calls.
Coach J had his hands on his hips standing in front of them. Jeff expected a tongue-lashing.
It never came.
“Look,” Coach J said in a voice soft enough that Jeff had to lean forward to hear him. “I know they’re big, and I know they play rough.” He looked at Diskin. “Danny, most games that was a foul on their goal. Not in this game. Jeff, you should have been given a penalty kick, and Andi, you should have gotten an Oscar for your acting on that dive. We can’t expect any help from the referee. But we can’t back off. Make them hit you, and eventually we’ll get the calls.”
He looked directly at Jeff. “Are you okay, Jeff?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Jeff said. “I’m not hurt, Coach, I’m just angry.”
“Good,” Coach J said. “Stay that way. Andi, you’re out the first five minutes. Take a deep breath. We’ve got thirty minutes left to win this thing.”
* * *
As the teams took the field for the second half, Andi sat on the bench alone. Jeff was in the game, and the other guys not playing were all standing near the sideline. Someone sat down next to her just as play began.
It was Coach J. She turned to look at him.
“At least now I know you’re human.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You were a little gun-shy when you had that open shot early,” he said. “The defender who was trying to get at y
ou probably outweighs you by fifty pounds—and he’s mean. They’re all mean. It’s part of the reason why they’re good.”
“Coach…”
He put up a hand. “Look, I don’t blame you even a little bit,” he said. “I’d be gun-shy, too, and so would all your teammates. They’re all playing a little bit scared and no one has specifically threatened them.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “If you don’t want to go back in, just say so—I won’t think even a little bit less of you if you do. But if you want to play, I need you to play. The other guys on this team take most of their cues on the field from you. If they see you playing timid, they’ll play timid and we have no chance. If they see you playing like … you … they’ll follow your lead.”
He was looking her right in the eye as he spoke. She looked right back at him.
“I’m ready, Coach,” she said.
He smiled. “Soon as the clock gets down to twenty-five minutes, go in for Arlow. We’ll get his five minutes out of the way and then we’ll go after them. Sound okay to you?”
“Sounds great,” she said, jumping to her feet. She remembered what Herb Brooks, the coach of the famous US Olympic hockey team that had stunned the Soviet Union in the 1980 Olympics, had said to his players: “You were born to be a player. You were meant to be here. This moment is yours.”
40
Arlow had just come back into the game when Andi got her first real opportunity of the second half.
Jeff had taken a long goal kick from Woodward and pushed the ball into Merion’s offensive end. He slid a pass forward to Arlow, who pushed the ball to his left to Andi just as a KP–North defender plowed into him. He went down, but there was no whistle. He jumped up, laughed at the KP defender, and kept moving.
The pass reached Andi with a defender directly in front of her. She faked as if to go to the middle, then went left and was by him—until he kicked his leg out and brought her down from behind. She didn’t wait for a whistle, just rolled to her feet and, the ball still in front of her, kept going.
She heard the defender yelling, “Hey, I fouled her!” at the ref, but either he disagreed, or since she still had the ball, he had decided to let her play the advantage, since blowing the whistle would be to the defender’s benefit.
Arlow was sprinting now, and he and Andi closed in on the remaining defender—the same guy Andi had backed down from in the first half—two-on-one. He ran straight at Andi, who held on to the ball until the last possible second.
Just as he plowed into her full speed, she slipped the ball to Arlow—who was now wide-open in front of the goalie. She never saw what happened next, because she was flat on her back, but the shouts she heard around her told her Arlow had scored.
She heard a whistle, and this time, the referee came running in to indicate first that Arlow had scored and then to wave a yellow card at the defender who had taken Andi down.
“That should be a red,” Andi heard Mike Craig saying as she sat up.
The ref pointed a finger at Craig: “Another word and you’ll get a red,” he said.
Andi felt pain in her right shoulder as she stood up. Jeff came in to check on her.
“I’m fine,” she said—glaring at him to make sure he didn’t ask again.
It was 1–1, less than fifteen minutes to play.
Not surprisingly, KP–North began to play conservatively. All they needed was a tie to win the championship, so there was no reason for them to take any chances.
Arlow took a pass from Diskin, went right past the defender who had taken him down, and unleashed what looked like a sure goal. Somehow, the KP–North goalie got a hand on it and deflected it just over the net. Arlow’s shoulders sagged.
Turning to run back upfield, he said to Andi: “Thought I had it.”
“You will,” she said. “Next time.”
The clock showed under seven minutes. Zack Roth again found Andi with some clear space. She was dribbling the ball patiently, waiting for the defender on her side of the field—different guy than the one who had taken her down, but just as big—to make a move at her when she was piled into from behind. She did a face-plant and heard the whistle again.
The referee was running in with another yellow card in his hand. She was slowly pulling herself up, helped by Diskin and Jeff when, out of corner of her eye, she saw someone running full speed at the guy who had just taken her down.
It was Arlow.
He was screaming angrily as he pushed the guy down and began swinging at him. Everyone from Merion rushed in to pull him off the guy, but it was too late. The referee was standing there with a red card in his hand, waving it at Arlow.
“Did you see what he did?” Arlow screamed. “Are you blind? He was trying to hurt her.”
The ref shook his head. “I gave him the yellow he deserved,” he said. “You started a fight—that’s an automatic red card.”
Both coaches had come onto the field. Coach J was screaming at the referee. “You red-card a kid in this game for protecting a teammate?” he said. “Are you out of your mind?
“Watch yourself, Coach,” the referee said. “Get your player off the field.”
Under the rules, a player could not be subbed for after being ejected. Merion would have to play the rest of the way with ten players.
“I’m proud of you, Ron,” Andi heard Coach J say as he put an arm around Arlow and walked him off the field. “Enough is enough.”
Coach C addressed the remaining ten players: “Come on, everyone, we’ve still got six minutes left. We only need one goal. I know you can do it.”
He was looking right at Andi as he said it.
The KP–North players were standing in a circle around their coach, which created a brief delay. Andi ran over to where Jeff, Roth, and Craig were standing, hands on hips, all of them looking stunned.
“Hey, guys, remember the decoy play the Union ran a few weeks ago that we all saw replayed a hundred times?”
“You mean where the guy pretends to be hurt?” Jeff said.
She nodded. “Get me the ball and when one of their guys takes me down—which they will—I’ll stay down. Don’t worry, though, I won’t be hurt.”
She rubbed her shoulder for a moment, which did hurt.
“What if the ref calls a foul?” Jeff said.
“If he does, I’ll jump up and put the ball back into play super fast,” she said. “But I don’t think he will.”
“You’re right,” Craig said. “Unless one of them brings a gun out here and tries to shoot you, he’s not calling anything.”
“Even then he might claim that calling a foul is a violation of the guy’s second-amendment rights,” Roth said.
They all got a laugh out of that one—briefly.
The clock was closing in on two minutes when the chance finally came. Diskin sent a long kick down the middle to Jeff, who almost immediately slid the ball to Andi even though she was well covered.
Andi made a half hearted fake on the midfielder running with her and then ran almost straight at him. Almost on cue he slid in the direction of the ball but took her legs out in the process. She went down. It was actually the closest thing to a clean tackle someone from KP had made all day.
As planned, Jeff was running right at the play shouting, “Yellow, yellow!” The referee was shaking his head and waving his hand to play on while Jeff and the kid who had taken Andi down were scrumming for the ball. Andi was getting up slowly.
Jeff finally controlled it and quickly kicked it to Roth in the middle of the field. Roth was the team’s best ball handler because he was ambidextrous, just as effective with his left foot as his right. Andi was still only halfway up as play went on. Jeff ran toward the middle as if he was filling Andi’s vacated spot—to the spot where Arlow normally would have been.
“Zack, to Mike, to Mike,” he yelled pointing across the field to Craig, who was closing on the goal, well guarded on the right.
Roth juked to the right as if he wanted t
o pass it that way, then stopped suddenly, able to move the ball to his left easily. Andi had leaped to her feet a split second earlier and was now racing in the direction of the penalty box. No one had been paying attention to her, except the Merion coaches, who were screaming at the referee to stop play for their injured player.
Only now the injured player had miraculously recovered, and Roth, expecting her to be on his left, kicked the ball hard, a few yards ahead of her. She picked it up on the run and closed on the goal with no one from either team near her.
A look of panic suddenly crossed the KP–North goalie’s face as he realized he was on the far side of the goal from where Andi was closing. He tried to sprint across from the far post to the near post, but it was too late. From ten yards out, Andi slowed, drew her leg back, and drilled a laser into the back of the net.
The goalie dived, stretched out as far as he possibly could, but he wasn’t close. He sprawled on the ground helplessly.
Andi’s arms were in the air. So were Jeff’s and Roth’s and Craig’s and everyone else’s in blue and gold. The noise from the stands and their side of the field was almost deafening. Jeff didn’t think it was possible for a crowd at a sixth-grade soccer game to be so loud.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Jeff saw the KP–North defender who had knocked Andi down earlier running right at her—clearly not to congratulate her.
Running as hard and as fast as he possibly could, Jeff cut the kid off with a diving tackle before he could pile into Andi. He heard the whistle, and he felt the kid rolling over on top of him. He didn’t care.
41
“He has to be ejected! He went after my player when the ball wasn’t even in play!”
The referee was almost laughing at the KP–North coach as he ranted. Jeff remembered Andi telling him the coach’s name was Nussbaum.
It had taken several minutes for the ref and the coaches from both teams to separate Jeff from the player he’d tackled and to keep any other fights from breaking out. The clock operator, under orders from the ref, had reset the clock—which had run out during the melee—to one minute.
Benchwarmers Page 16