Kulti(177)

I swallowed and realized that this was the last time I’d be on this field.

I choked up.

I’d lost. We’d lost.

My family was in the audience. Marc and Simon were in the crowd someplace. My German was too.

Pressure squeezed my lungs as I made my feet move. They took me away from the opposing players celebrating, oblivious to the inner hell I was going through. The loss was bitter in my mouth and definitely in my soul. I shook a few hands, gave a couple of the girls on the Ohio team a hug and congratulated them on their win.

But Jesus, it was hard.

Everyone deals with loss differently. Some people need consolation, some people get angry, and others want to be left the hell alone. I was the type that needed some space.

If only I’d been faster, or gotten where I was needed instead of being busy taking my frustration out on a player that had tripped me…

I spotted Harlow with her hands clasped behind her head, cursing under her breath. She was still in the same place she’d been when the clock had run out. Jenny was even further away, hugging another Piper who looked like she was crying.

We’d lost.

And that loss bubbled in my throat.

“Sal!”

I scratched my cheek and turned around to see one of the opposing players walking toward me. She was a younger girl who had been all over me during the game, quick and creative with her feet. I mustered a smile for her, slowing my retreat into all-out mourning.

“Hey, would you mind trading jerseys with me?” she asked with a sweet grin.

Yeah I was a sore loser, but I wasn’t a turd. “Sure, sure,” I said, pulling mine up over my head.

“I hope this doesn’t make me sound like a total dork,” she said, taking her jersey off. “But I love you.”

I had just finished taking the sweaty top off when she said it, and I couldn’t help but grin a little.

The other player had her hands up over her head, the material around her wrists when she stopped moving. “That came out all wrong. You’re a big inspiration for me. I just wanted to let you know. I’ve been following your career since you were on the U-17 team.”

This girl was younger than me, but she didn’t look like a teenager either. Hearing that I inspired her… well, it made me feel good. I wasn’t any less frustrated or disappointed that we’d lost, but I guess it made it a little bit more bearable.

A little.

“Thank you so much.” I handed her my Pipers jersey. “Hey, you’ve got great footwork, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

She flushed and handed over her red and black top. “Thanks.” Someone yelled something and she glanced back, holding up a hand in a ‘give me a minute’ sign. “I need to get going but really, great game. I’ll see you next season.”

Next season. Blah. “Yeah, good game. Take care.”

Melancholy hit me hard, really hard. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

I wasn’t going to cry, damn it. I never cried when we lost, at least not since I’d been a little kid.

“Sal!” My dad’s voice cut through a hundred others.

Two quick looks around, several more “to the right!” shouts from him and I spotted my family. Dad’s upper body was hanging over the barrier, hands planted to keep him from falling onto the field as he yelled while my mom and sister stood behind him. Ceci looked embarrassed.

I sniffed and made my way over, scrounging up a smile that could only be meant for them. There were other people yelling out my name and I waved, but I walked as fast as I could toward my family, needing to get off the field before the presentation of the championship trophy began.

Grabbing the first rungs of the barrier, I hoisted myself up to plant my feet on the concrete foundation and stood up, getting wrapped in a hug the instant I was standing. “You couldn’t have done any better,” Dad said in Spanish, straight into my ear.

Don’t cry.

“Thanks, Pa.”

“You’re always my MVP,” he added as he pulled away, hands on my shoulders. His smile was sad for a moment before he squeezed my shoulders and made a face. “Have you been working out more? Your shoulders are bigger than mine.”

That only made me want to cry even more, and the noise that came out of my mouth let him know how hard this moment was for me.

My mom finally pushed my dad to the side with a huff. “You played so well,” she said in Spanish, kissing my cheek. Her eyes were watery, and I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through her head. She never said anything, but I knew big games like this were always hard on her. Things with my grandpa were an open wound that I wasn’t sure would ever heal.