The Competitive Edge Playing The Game IIIChapter 41 Tournament Time
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The Competitive Edge: Playing The Game IIIChapter 8: A Platonic Hug free porn video
We smoked Alabama in our game that weekend. Dan got a lot of playing time, substituting for both starting defenders, me on the right and Martin on the left. Martin and I ended up playing about three- quarters of the game, and Dan was on the field for about forty minutes, too.
On the long trip back from Tuscaloosa, Coach Pick told the team about a tournament we were going to.
"Second week of October, boys," said Pick as our bus rolled through northern Florida. "Let your professors know you'll be out of town for the entire week."
"That's not mid-semester break, is it?" asked Spencer.
"Nope, it's the week before," said Coach. "Y'all will be missin' about a week's worth of classes. We'll be back home for the break, but we've got North Carolina comin' in for a game on Wednesday, followed by Tennessee on the weekend."
"So we don't get a break," interjected Dan.
"Nope," confirmed Pick. "Now listen up here, boys. Like I said, we're headin' up to Warshington D.C. for the Georgetown Invitational Tournament. There'll be sixteen teams there. They're using Georgetown, Maryland, and George Mason University soccer fields, and the semifinals and finals will be held at RFK Stadium."
"How many games?" asked Bryan.
"Four games," said Pick. "Here's the deal. There's two halves of the draw, let's call 'em the top half and the bottom half. The eight teams seeded odd numbers, one through fifteen, play the top half, and the even seeds play the bottom half. Winners advance, losers play in the consolation draws, so everybody plays four games during the tournament."
"Who all will be there, Coach? Same as last year?" That was Rick Rogers, our starting keeper.
"Yup, pretty much," said Pick. "Georgetown, obviously, and Maryland, and George Mason, Kentucky, Purdue, UConn, South Carolina, Ohio State, a few others."
"Did they announce the seedings yet, Coach?" called out Jesse from the back of the bus.
"As a matter of fact, I've got them right here," said Coach, waving a sheet of paper. "Let's see now," he continued, looking over his glasses at the paper in his hand. He smiled a little, enjoying dragging it out. "It says here ... let's see ... Ah, here it is. Yep." He looked up and grinned, obviously pleased with himself. "University of Florida. Seeded number one."
A cheer went up in the bus, and the driver, caught up in the celebration, honked the air horns.
"Now, don't get no idears that you're the king shit soccer team of the world," admonished Pick as the cheering died down. "Remember this is a sixteen team invitational, and teams ain't traveling three days to come play there."
Pick walked down the main aisle of the bus, hanging on to the tops of the seats as he strode. He looked each of us over, making sure we were paying attention to what he was saying.
"There are a lot of good teams out there, boys. West Coast teams from UCLA, Stanford, San Diego, Oregon. Hell, New Mexico has a top- ten team, and we won't never see them unless we both get well into the NCAA tournament." He turned and started back.
"Hey, we're the team in the East to beat, though, Coach," said Brad.
"You think so?" asked Pick. "Well, maybe we are. How 'bout the University of Texas? They're not exactly a West Coast team, but they'll give us a run for our money most any day."
"And don't forget South Carolina," called out Eddie Whitehead.
Pick whirled around and pointed, first at Eddie, and then at me. "That's right, the Gamecocks." As he pointed my way, he said, "Ain't that where that friend of yours plays, Sean? Trent What's-His-Name?"
"Abbott," I said. "Trent Abbott."
"Right, Abbott. Damn boy's got the tricks. He can score from damn near anywhere on the field." Pick shook his head as he recalled watching Trent.
"One player does not make a team," noted Jesse.
"Well, that's by-Christ true, son," said Pick. "Abbott's got a team surroundin' him, you can bet on it. They're seeded in the two spot. If all goes according to plan, we just might see them at RFK."
He was back at the front of the bus again, and he turned to face us all. "But the road to the Georgetown Tournament title goes through Gator country, boys, and the rest of them teams had best remember that."
His pronouncement set up another round of whooping and hollering, and I was happy to join in as we celebrated.
I didn't relish the thought of collecting a week's worth of homework from my professors, but it would be great to be able to go to the Georgetown Invitational Tournament. I was thinking it would be a great reunion for me. After all, Eric Johnson played for Maryland, and Trent would be there with his team. Maybe I would even get to see Keisha Prescott, Eric's girlfriend, while we were there. I doubted that Trent's girlfriend, Danielle Nickerson, would be there, but I would take a visit from the friends I could, and not be an ingrate. I settled back in my seat, and suddenly realized I was happy, maybe the happiest I had been since coming to Florida.
Reggie and I had arranged to meet at a little coffeehouse left over from the hippie days, a dive called The Glass Onion. It was located in a rundown old building that looked like it should have been demolished years before, but inside it was fairly clean. The proprietors went by the names of Stone and Skye Parker, and they looked like they had been time-warped straight from about 1968. They both had long, straight hair, leather headbands, and beaded and fringed vests. The walls were covered with concert posters for The Doors, The Grateful Dead, The Who, Sly and the Family Stone, Janis Joplin, and Jefferson Airplane, many of them apparently local appearances at different venues around the Southeast. The coffees and teas were fresh, however, and their homemade muffins and cookies were outstanding. They also had quite a collection of leatherworks, pottery, framed and unframed art, and crafts from students and local artists, there on consignment. Stone and Skye did what they could to support the local arts community, it seemed.
Still, it was funny to watch Stone and Skye working together. Their conversations were sprinkled with leftover "Groovys" and "Far Outs" and "Right Ons," anachronisms that, outside the coffeehouse, would have been jarring. Inside their little enclave, though, it sounded just about right.
I got there a few minutes early and ordered coffee and a brownie. The brownie worried me just a little, but it was all because of the ambiance of the place. There wasn't anything... funny... in the brownie. I was sure of it. No, really.
Reggie walked in a few minutes later. I almost didn't recognize her, since she was now wearing standard student garb instead of party clothes. I would have thought she wouldn't look comfortable in t- shirts and shorts, but here she was, dressed casually in a scoop- necked pink shirt, tight shorts, and pink sandals. Her dark hair was pulled back and clipped with a plastic comb sort of thing, and she was sporting dark sunglasses that she perched on top of her head as she walked in out of the bright sunshine into the dim coffeehouse. I was struck again by how very pretty she was. If she was in love with a guy back home, having somebody to hang around with here at school would be an asset to a girl as attractive as Reggie, if for no other reason than to keep the wolves at bay. I could just imagine somebody as slimy as Westy hitting on her as soon as they spotted her.
She glanced around, saw me sitting at a table, and came over. She slipped gracefully into the chair opposite me.
"Hi," she said. She looked around, but I couldn't tell if she approved of the place or not by her noncommittal expression.
"Would you like something?" I asked.
She smiled at me, a good sign. "Iced tea would be nice," she said. Her very slight accent reminded me somehow of the East Coast, but I couldn't really say why.
I got up and ordered an iced tea from Skye, and Stone wordlessly put an orange-banana muffin on a paper plate for me.
"She looks more like a muffin girl than the brownie kind," said Skye.
"I'm a brownie kind?" I asked her.
She smiled at me, a bright and happy look on her open and unreserved face. "Of course you are, Sean. Through and through."
I just shook my head at her in amazement, and carried the muffin and the glass of tea back to our table.
"You've been here before?" asked Reggie.
"Nope," I replied.
"Oh. She seemed like she knows you," she said.
"I just met them a little bit ago," I said. "They're pretty easy- going and friendly, though. Before you can order anything from them, they insist on knowing your name."
She tore off a miniscule portion of muffin and examined it before putting it in her mouth. She bit down tentatively, looked up at me in surprise, and pinched off a larger piece. "This is really good," she said.
I looked up at Skye and gave her a thumbs-up. She clasped her hands together and gave them a shake, a victory sign. "Right on," she said.
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