Chapter 2: Meeting the Red Devils

About that name: After the team was selected, the original coach let the girls pick their nickname, and that’s what they came up with. Some parents weren’t too happy about it, but if one teenage girl can be stubborn, a whole team of them is impossible to dissuade. So, Red Devils, soon shortened to just Devils, it was. They got red and black uniforms to match.

On the first day I arrived as their new assistant coach, Amy introduced me to all the other players. A few stood out right away: the best athletes, the leaders, and the potential troublemakers. According to Mick, only two were in that last category, and both were outstanding players.

The first one he pointed out was Millie Hayes. Even at fourteen-going-on-fifteen she was an inch or so taller than I was, but I’m only 5’ 7”. She had blazing red hair that she wore almost boyishly short, with the blue eyes and pale, freckled skin to go with it. If there was ever a girl destined to play for a team called the Devils, it was Millie. She was also a pottymouth. Several of the girls would burst out with an ‘F’ bomb or some other curse occasionally, but with Millie, it was part of her everyday speech. She was one of the few left-footed players on the team, and combined with her good-but-not-great speed, she was a natural left midfielder.

According to Mick, Maria Gonzales was the other potential troublemaker. She was our starting goalkeeper, although she was only about 5’ 4”, short for our age group. What Maria lacked in size, she made up for with a fierce attitude. It only took me a few scrimmages to see that forwards only charged the goal she was protecting once before they learned to be cautious. She was another pottymouth, but most of her cursing was in Spanish.

Two other girls stood out right away, for different reasons. One was Jennifer Collins. Jen was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen for her age. She looked like she could be a model. Some of our games were at a soccer complex with several fields, and when we were sitting around waiting for our game to start, I could often see boys checking her out as they walked by. I think she was aware of the attention, and didn’t seem to mind. She was used to drawing attention. She always showed up for practice or games looking like she was ready for one of those modeling assignments, shoulder–length dark brown hair looking like she had spent a long time brushing and organizing it, but once it was time for soccer, she tied it up in a high ponytail. That was a sign that she was focused and ready. Jen could play anywhere in the midfield, making her a valuable asset. She was also, in a quiet way, a team leader, leading by example more than words.

Then there was Samantha (Sam) Rollins, a cute, bubbly blond, with a squeaky voice that sounded like it should be coming out of a ten-year-old. She was our center forward, with blazing speed and the ball skills to make her a natural for that position. All she lacked was some discipline, on the soccer pitch and in life. Mick told me she had almost flunked out of school last year, and was still on probation. Amy added that Sam had bragged about already being sexually active. It made me wonder just how many non-virgins there were in this group. Even two was more than I would have guessed for a bunch of barely teenagers.

One of the problems we had to overcome during our preseason practices was that the team was made up of girls from six different high schools. Building cohesion and teamwork was one of Mick’s first goals. To help with that, Amy’s parents threw a barbecue for the team. That’s the day my fears about being around so many young girls turned from a worry to reality.

Millie, the tall, slender redhead, needed a ride to the picnic, so I volunteered to bring her. I thought it would give me a chance to get to know her better, and I was right, in ways I couldn’t have imagined. When I picked her up, she wore some old soccer shorts that looked like she had outgrown them. When she got in the car, she decided to get comfortable by kicking off her shoes and putting her feet on top of the dash. I would have told her not to do it, but when I saw how it caused her shorts to slide down her legs, giving me a nice view of her pale, freckled thighs, I just relaxed and enjoyed the view, when I had moments to take my eyes off the road.

She caught me looking and asked, “You counting the freckles?”

“Just wondering how high up they go,” I said.

I wanted to bite my tongue for saying that out loud, but Millie just laughed and pushed one leg hole further up. “Go ahead and look, I don’t care. I know I have nice fuckin’ legs.”

I didn’t see any need to be coy at that point. “Yes you do.” All the girls on the team had been playing soccer since they were five or six, so they all had great legs, which made being around them enjoyable.

I managed to drive the rest of the way without running off the road while treating myself to the display Millie seemed so willing to provide. When we arrived at the barbecue, I opened the door to get out when I felt Millie’s hand in my lap. I hadn’t even realized that I had an erection, or how obvious it was, until she brushed the back of her hand across the bulge in my shorts. “Is that hard-on because of me?” she asked quietly.

“Come on,” I told her, wanting nothing more to do with a teenage temptress. Having one of those in my life was enough. “Let’s just go have some burgers and ribs.”

The barbecue was uneventful at first. I stayed with the adults while the players hung out together, getting to know each other as something other than soccer players. As a bonding event, it was working perfectly. Things were winding down when some girls found a frisbee and started tossing it around. Then disaster - Millie was sprinting to catch the disc when suddenly she pulled up and grabbed the back of her leg. Mick and I both saw it happen, and knew what it was, a pulled hamstring, probably because she hadn’t bothered to warm up or stretch, but who does that when throwing a frisbee around at a picnic?

I went over and asked how bad it was. “Shit, this sucks donkey dicks, but it’s not too bad,” she said, the grimace on her face saying something different. “I did this last year in a game and it took a few weeks to heal. It doesn’t feel as bad this time.”

“Come on,” I said, pulling her to her feet. “Let me take you home so you can start treating it.”

“Sure coach,” she said, with a wicked grin. “Maybe you can even tuck me into bed.”

After I got her settled into my car, Mick and some of the players came over and wished her luck. “Ice it, ten minutes on and ten minutes off,” Mick told her.