Playing To Win Playing The Game IIChapter 5 Tournament Weekend
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Playing To Win: Playing The Game IIChapter 28: The All-State Cheer free porn video
Can a fourteen or fifteen-year-old girl really know what love is? Even in my own overheated and taxed brain, that question haunted me all night. Long after I had dropped Kayla off at her house, sharing another searing kiss full of promise, I was still bothered by what she had told me.
In the intervening years since, I have discovered that there have been exceptional children who have known their hearts early on. Joan of Arc was twelve years of age when she first heard the voices that put her on the path of martyrdom, and Shakespeare infused a thirteen- year-old Juliet with some of the most touching and memorable lines in English literature (even though his model for Juliet, from the Italian tale The Tragicall Story of Romeus and Juliet, was sixteen). I could not presume then, nor can I presume even now, twenty years later, that my Luscious was as resolute as St. Joan or Juliet. In fact, in my own mind, aside from the implications of having a girlfriend who was "in love" with me, I was still able to appreciate the undeniable fact that Kayla was gorgeous, she had an uninhibited streak, and she was all mine.
Now I just had to figure out a way not to blow it.
As we did our homework each evening, there seemed to be more of an intimacy between us. Jake was well aware of it, and did his best not to interfere too much, or give me too much shit about it when Luscious wasn't around. Sometimes, though, he just couldn't help himself.
All the next week, every time he passed me in the hall at school, he would punch me in the arm hard.
"Keep your mitts off my little sister," he said one time.
"You can kiss, but you'd best not touch," came another warning.
"I'd better not find no fingerprints where none should be," he threatened another time.
I whirled and grabbed him by the arm that time, and pulled him off to the side. "And I'd better not hear about you searching for fingerprints where you shouldn't be looking," I said.
He looked a little surprised, then shocked, and finally, seeing my grin, he chuckled.
"Okay, deal," he said. But just for good measure, he gave my arm another pop. I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me rubbing the bruise he raised.
Coach Neville worked on getting us prepared for the playoffs. We were seeded first, and had home field advantage all the way through the tournament, until the final four teams traveled downstate to play, still three weeks away. This was a change from the previous year, when the sectionals were held at a neutral field at a local college. We didn't mind not having to travel to our games. It just meant that we could pack our stands with a good-sized crowd. If all went well, we would be playing two games a week until the state playoffs.
Our first game was against Lincoln Valley, the team we had absolutely pummeled earlier in the season, beating them by a score of 11-0. On the one hand, I was looking forward to playing against the Bozo Brothers one more time. On the other hand, it was a little depressing that their team actually made it into the playoffs. Surprisingly, they only had three losses all season long, which probably only pointed out to all and sundry that our conference was not particularly strong in soccer. Still, it was tempting to look beyond Lincoln Valley to see which opponents might be coming up for us to play.
Watching the film on Thursday, it was apparent that Lincoln Valley was playing a stronger game now than they did earlier in the season. Maybe their coach had been able to infuse some religion into their front lines, their weakest positions. Then again, considering the strengths of our conference, maybe it was just that they were shown playing weaker opponents.
On Friday the Metro Times, the big city newspaper, came out with their statewide prep rankings for all the fall sports, along with their All-Conference selections. The big news for us was the selection of Jorge Mendoza in the net, Eric Johnson as a midfielder, and Trent Abbott as forward joining me as All-Conference players, with Mike Evanson and Kevin Soranno also listed as outstanding players, even though they didn't make the All-Conference team. No other team in the area placed more than two players on their respective All-Conference teams, and in our conference, only Rockton Heights had two players named. All the other teams were represented by one player, including Lincoln Valley, whose stopper was selected.
As we were in the locker room getting prepared for the game, the mood was loose and light, with a substantial amount of good-natured ribbing aimed at all of us whose name had been in the paper. Matt Hartigan was also in the locker room, talking with Eric and Trent, gathering up tidbits for his own article for the local rag about the game.
Eric and I did our customary laps around the field before the game, but we couldn't check out the opposition, because the Lincoln Valley team was still unloading from their buses. We rejoined our teammates and flopped to the ground to stretch out, taking our time and doing more joking and relaxing than stretching.
The football team was playing on Saturday, so the stands were filling up fast. The student section was already packed, and Jorge, Eric, Anthony, and I walked over to the fence to take a look at the crowds. Keisha and Ayesha came down to say hello, and Kayla came hopping down the steps to join them when she saw me there. She stuck her fingers through the fence, and I held them with mine as we stood there.
"Play well, Sean," she said, her eyes shining with happiness.
"I'll try," I said. "It might be a little tough out there, though, what with all these All-Conference guys wanting to hog the ball all the time." I glanced over to make sure Eric and Jorge heard me. I didn't want to waste a good opportunity to hand them some shit. Eric heard me, and was studiously ignoring me. Jorge was standing by the fence on his far side, and all his brothers and sisters, including Kristina, were gathered in front of him, talking excitedly to him, so he wasn't paying any attention to me at all. Kristina was concentrating on ignoring me, too. I certainly couldn't blame her. She had joined a growing list of females I had disappointed and failed over the past couple of years. I fervently hoped that my losing streak with women was at an end as I turned back to Luscious, still clutching my fingers.
"I don't think I'll have to worry about you not getting your touches on the ball, Porter," she said. "Somehow, you'll find a way."
I smiled at her. "During practices, I'm a ball hog," I said. "During games, the ball can stay on the other side of the field, for all I care. Fewer chances for me to fall down and embarrass myself."
"And us," said Eric, still ostensibly chatting with Keisha.
Jorge and Anthony were headed back toward the bench. I waved to Kay, and Eric and I ran up to join them. I put my arm around Jorge's shoulder.
"Hey, amigacho, I never got to congratulate you."
"Thanks, Sean. It was a surprise, I tell you."
"Not to me, it wasn't," I said. "You've been directing the defense like you've been doing it your whole life."
He grinned at me. "I have been doing it my whole life," he said.
"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess you have, at that." I dropped my arm off his shoulder. "Hey, Jorge, is Kristina still going out with Paco?"
He shot me a surprised glance. "I thought you was wrapped up with Jake's sister," he said.
"Oh, I am," I said hurriedly. "I still feel bad about how that all went, that's all. I just want her to be happy."
He shrugged. He was able to squeeze entire conversations into his silent gestures, a gift few kids our age had acquired.
"Yeah, she happy, I guess. At least she's liking the worship. Paco is completely whipped, man. He just walk around all moony eyed, staring at her all the time, hanging around the house until Papa, he tells him to go home. Gives me the creeps."
"You want me to help you chase him off?"
"Nah. Kristina's enjoying being the center of attention with him around. And he's basically a good guy. Hell, I'm the one got them together, why am I complaining? Let her have her fun. At least it's with somebody who treats her good."
"Yeah," I said grumpily. "Her last boyfriend didn't treat her so well."
He just looked at me for a moment, expressionless. "No, he din', did he?" he said quietly. "But I t'ink he learned from it pretty good now."
"Yes, he did," I reluctantly agreed.
We left it at that.
Everybody has their own pre-game preparations that they go through, personal time to get them into game mentality, and I stepped away from everybody and started on my routines. I liked to stand with my toes on the chalk of the sidelines and stare out onto the field, setting up my own imaginary borders. I liked to think of myself as a benevolent dictator of my territory, allowing transgressors reasonably safe passage, unless they were carrying contraband in the form of a soccer ball. In that case, the dictatorship became considerably less benevolent, and stepped much closer to being militarily threatening. I pictured, in my mind, patrolling my borders, friendly and relaxed, but still oh so watchful, wary of any strangers who ventured across my invisible boundaries, ready to strike against any incursion.
I stepped back and grabbed a cup of water, just as the announcer started up with the starting lineup. He announced the lineup for the visiting team, and it took me a moment to realize, as he called out the Lincoln Valley left forward starting player as Bruce somebody or other, that the guy's name wasn't really Bozo One.
He used almost the same routine for calling out our team's starters that he used the previous week, except that he added the All- Conference honors for Eric and Trent. Once again, the crowd got louder and louder as he started with the defensive side, starting with Anthony, and then announcing Mikey and Brett. As they trotted out onto the field, the noise level went up another notch as the announcer's voice intoned, "Starting as goalkeeper, a sophomore, and an All-Conference selection, Jorge Mendoooozaaaaa!" And the grandstand started shaking as the entire crowd stomped their feet and yelled and whistled. The announcer paused to let the noise settle just a little before continuing, "And at right defense, a junior, also an All-Conference selection, Sean Pooorrrterrrr!" I ran out and high-fived all my teammates, and clapped Jorge on the back.
"Welcome to Adulation Central, buddy," I said. "But don't get too used to it. Five minutes after our season is done, we're back to being plain old Mendoza and Porter, B-average students."
"Don't I know it," he replied as we jogged back to the sidelines. "Can't get a swelled head over playing a game."
The game was even easier than our regular-season game. The Lincoln Valley coaches had apparently instructed their players, under penalty of permanent substitution, to keep the ball out of the left offensive half of the field, where Kevin and I were patrolling. They repeatedly attacked our left, only to be rebuffed time and again. Because there was no pressure at all on our side, Kevin shifted over about fifteen meters, covering more of the middle, allowing Mikey and Robert, our center midfielders, to shift over a little, giving Eric and Anthony a buffer. Lincoln Valley was essentially playing a half-field game on our half, cutting down on their offensive options by more than fifty percent. Their only real scoring opportunity came on a corner kick late in the first half. Jorge boxed up everybody on the line, and put Anthony on the near post and me on the far post, and he positioned Brett five meters out and in the middle. The corner kick came in high and lazy, and we were able to block out all their players as Jorge went up and easily snagged the ball out of the air. He punted it down to the midfield stripe, where Javier picked it up, passed it over to Jimmy on the right, who dribbled it down the sidelines against the defender, stopped and crossed it about fifteen meters in front of the goal. Conference scoring leader Trent Abbott was right there, crowding out the stopper with his back and arms, and he took the pass with his right foot, sweeping the ball off his instep into the top left corner of the net, over the outstretched arms of the Lincoln Valley keeper.
It ended up as a 9-0 drubbing, and we left the field satisfied with the win, and looking forward to our next opponent, to be played on Sunday. Whoever we played was sure to be more of a challenge than the hapless Lincoln Valley team.
And, at Sunday's game, they were more of a challenge, but it was still a pretty easy win for us. Coach even pulled his core group in favor of giving some of his bench players a little more playing time. Trent, Eric, Jorge, and I sat together on the bench for most of the second half, soaking up the weak sun and relaxing, for a change, as the second team held on to win, 6-1.
The next week, we were surprised and a little disappointed when we learned that Rockton Heights, our conference rivals, got beat in their playoff game over the weekend on a power play when one of their players got a red card and had to leave the game. Playing short, they got beat off the ball, and the Shady Grove Orioles walked off with the win, 3-2.
"What the hell kind of mascot is an oriole?" asked Eric, when he heard about Rockton's defeat.
"Doesn't exactly instill fear in the hearts of their opponents, does it?" said Trent.
"Maybe all the good animals were taken," suggested Mikey.
"Maybe so, but orioles? Might as well just call yourselves the Yapping Dachshunds, or the Mighty Angry Turtledoves, or something. At least if you were the Fighting Statisticians, you could clobber your opponents with your briefcases." Eric just shook his head, chuckling, while the rest of us laughed.
"I wouldn't take the Orioles too lightly, were I you," warned Coach Neville ominously. "Shady Grove has two players in particular who are very good. All-Conference selections, in fact, in a conference full of fairly athletic teams." He took off his glasses and casually polished them with his loosened tie as he glanced at me with a small smile. "Interestingly, both of their Conference players work the left offensive side. Perhaps Mr. Porter, here, will finally face a bit of a challenge."
"Yeah, great," I said. "Just remind Kevin and Robert to keep the ball on the offensive side of the field, okay?"
"By the way, I just got word of something that might be of interest to you, Mr. Porter, and to Mr. Abbott, also." He stood, and the entire team quieted down expectantly. "Earlier this afternoon I received a telephone call from the State Athletic Board. I have just been informed that Sean Porter and Trent Abbott have both been selected for first-team All-State honors."
The whole room erupted. Trent and I high-fived each other.
"Ah, but I am not finished," interrupted Coach. "Second-team All- State honors are accorded to Eric Johnson at midfield. Congratulations to all three players."
Dottie
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