Chapter 3: Trying To Make Amends

Finally, the place we all most liked to hang out, the Dairy Queen, opened for the season. I headed over there between games on a Saturday, and found a bunch of kids there. Molly and her best friend, Tessa Navarrone, were sitting at a table with Tessa's boyfriend, Austin Graves, and, of all people, Joey Amonte. Joey was one of Richie Del Toro's Bulls, our local version of a gang of bad boys. He was acting large, no doubt because he had one of the prettiest girls in school sitting next to him. I ordered a hot fudge sundae and joined Toby Mueller, Ashley Horvath, Josh O'Toole, and Andrea Coulter at another table. Toby and Ashley had started going out together right after the Turnabout Dance, and Josh, Molly's twin brother, had been going with Andrea since around the first of the year.

As I sat down, I nodded in the direction of the other table.

"What's up with that?" I asked.

Josh looked disgusted. "You know," he said, "I used to think that Molly was pretty much okay, as sisters go. But lately..." He just shook his head at the sight of his cheerleader sister sitting with one of the true losers of our school.

Andrea grasped his hand, as if she could somehow channel support into him.

"Hey, Sean," Toby began, "I thought you and M... Ow!" he exclaimed, giving Ashley a hurt look as he reached down to rub his shin where she had apparently swiftly kicked him. She was giving him a stern look, practically willing him to shut up, especially with Molly's brother sitting at the same table.

"So, Sean," said Ashley, trying to divert the conversation, "I hear you've been refereeing a lot this spring."

"Yeah," I said. "I'm on an hour lunch break right now, and then I have to go back and referee one more game, and then the boy's team I'm helping with has their game right after that."

"Is that the team with the Wilkinson boys on it? I hear that Mrs. Wilkinson is a hottie," said Toby. Again, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ashley trying to kick him into shutting up, but Toby wasn't going to let himself be caught within her range again. He drew his feet up and sat Indian style on the bench.

"Yeah, I guess she is," I said uncomfortably. "I just coach the boys, though. After all, she's kind of old. Old enough to be a mom, anyway."

"She could mother me anytime," laughed Josh. That earned him a good- natured jab from his girlfriend.

"I guess I'd better be getting back," I said as I stood and tossed my empty cup into the trashcan. "Gotta keep them young 'uns in line, don'tcha know." I hopped back on my bike, but before I could pedal off, Kristina Mendoza walked around the corner of the DQ. She stopped short when she saw me, and then nonchalantly walked over to the table where Molly and Tessa were sitting. I heard the tone of her voice, if not the actual words, as I rode away, making me feel hollow and empty inside.

The Warriors were gaining a reputation as the under-eight boy's team to beat. Bill and I had worked out a good schedule for practices that took advantage of the high energy levels and the short attention spans of boys that age. We did some warm-up drills first, followed by some simple passing drills, making sure all the boys were kept moving in patterns. After a short break, we started up with scrimmages. Sometimes we played full-field scrimmages, dividing the team into two squads. Other times, we played three-on-three short sets, rotating teams around in a kind of round-robin tournament and playing across the width of the field. Other times, we played the World Cup game, usually with me in goal and Bill shagging balls beyond the net.

We also developed a scrimmage we called Freeze Soccer. We would divide the team into two squads for a full-field scrimmage, and let them go at it. When they heard either Bill or me blow the whistle, they had to freeze right where they were. We would then give them a specific instruction, such as "Red team take three giant steps to your right", or "Blue team switch forwards and backs", or "You can only touch the ball two times". All of our instructions during Freeze Soccer were designed to keep them from bunching up. We were trying to instill in them the concept of keeping as much space around them as they could, giving them confidence to pass into open space instead of into a crowd. Sometimes it worked beautifully, sometimes it failed miserably, but both Coach Bill and I knew we were building a good foundation for all these boys as they progressed in their soccer pursuits. In the meantime, we discovered that the lessons we were giving them, under the disguise of practice fun, were carrying over into game situations. Our team average of goals scored per game was three, and the average of goals scored against us was just under one.

At the game later that afternoon, all the moms, along with a few dads, were crowded along the near sideline for the game. Some of the boys had brothers or sisters who were starting to catch the soccer bug, and there was an impromptu passing game going on behind the parents as Bill and I organized the warm-ups.

We had come up with the idea of using our criss-cross passing and shooting drill as our standard game warm-up. We called it our Warrior Warm-up Shuffle. It was a very efficient drill, in which we divided the boys into four groups of three or four players each. We had a group line up at each of the goalposts, with the other two groups about twelve meters straight out from the posts. Our starting keeper was in the net, and the balls were lined up by the goalposts. The boys at the posts were to alternate passing the ball across to the boys on the outside, diagonally from their position. Those players would trap the ball, set themselves up with a touch or two, then take a shot on goal. They would then rotate around until each player had passed from each corner, and everybody had taken a shot from each position. The drill not only warmed them up for the game by keeping them moving around from position to position, but it also helped them to practice kicking the ball where they intended just before game time, it gave them a chance to shoot on goal, plus it gave our keepers lots of opportunities to try to stop a ten-meter open shot. We could even vary the drill by making the players receiving the passes one-touch the ball across to the boy on the other side of the box, giving them an opportunity to practice their crossing passes.

By the time the referee came over to check equipment, the boys were warmed up and anxious to play. We announced our starting lineups, and let the boys know who the first substitutions would be. The team gathered around Bill and me for last-minute reminders, a routine we had developed early on in the season.

"How do we play the game, boys?" asked Bill.

"Zones and lanes!" they all shouted.

"And what does zones and lanes mean?" he continued.

"Lanes are up and down the field," said Justin, "and zones are back and forth."

"Right! Okay, can you cross into the zone or lane next to yours?"

"Yes!" came the collective shout.

"How far over?"

"Five steps!"

"Right! And can you cross two lanes over?"

"No!" came the resounding yell from the boys.

"Okay, boys," finished Bill, "go out there and have fun."

With a final "Go Warriors!" cheer from the boys, the starting lineup raced into their positions on the field and prepared for the opening whistle.

We had heard from some of the boys, and some of our fellow coaches, that the team we were playing, the Eagles, was a pretty good team, well coached with some talented kids. In particular, they had two of the best keepers in our league, plus they were rumored to have a very fast player who loved to play forward and score goals. However, Bill and I were confident enough in our team that we felt that our opponents had to figure out how to beat us, rather than us trying to change our game plan to suit an opponent's game. Besides, we really felt that the Warriors needed to face a challenge soon. Otherwise, practices were going to become less important to some of the boys if they thought that winning was so easy.

And the Eagles were good. Before we even had a chance to challenge their starting keeper to see how effective he was, their fastest player, a small Hispanic boy who controlled the ball as if it was lined with iron and his feet were magnets, took control of an early play. He seemed to know the limits we had assigned to our lanes, and managed to find the seams where our boys weren't supposed to double- team. One against one, not a single player of ours could keep up with him, and within the first five minutes of the game, he squirted through our defense twice, approaching our goal with the ball. The first time, his shot went wide as our keeper came out, just like he was supposed to do. The next time, our keeper was a little slow in coming out to challenge the boy, and the ball slipped past him, and into the back of the net. For the first time all season, we were behind in a game.

Panic set in on our side of the field. All of a sudden, the Warriors were scrambling all over the field. Our lanes and zones got sloppier and sloppier as the players gave in to temptation and started stalking the ball, wherever it went. Oddly, it slowed down the Eagles after the game degenerated into swarmball. They only scored twice more on us during the first half. The Warriors, on the other hand, couldn't manufacture even one goal against their opponents. We couldn't even mount a serious challenge on their keeper. Bill was pacing the sidelines, calling out to his players, practically pleading with them to play their positions, but our team was beyond the reach of our coaching out on the field by then.

At halftime, the boys were panting and jittery about what was going on out on the field. Bill and I handed out water and orange slices, and asked the boys to sit around us and try to be quiet, instead of yelling at each other about blown coverages and missed assignments.

"It's not so bad," I said to the boys.

"It's terrible!" retorted Andrew. "They're really good. Better than us."

"So what?" said Bill. "Maybe they are better than you, maybe they aren't. Does that mean you're just going to give up?"

"No!" shouted Davey. "Warriors don't give up!"

Andrew looked abashed as the rest of the team reluctantly agreed.

"But what can we do about that kid?" asked Andrew.

Now we had their attention. They were frustrated, and ripe for some better playmaking decisions.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," I said. "Devon, you're going to be our goalie, and our defensive co-captain." He nodded, and reached for the keeper's jersey. "All the defensive players on the field, listen for instructions from Devon. A lot of the time, the keeper can see what's happening on the field better than the players that are involved with the ball, so he will be in charge of directing you guys around. Davey, you will be the other co-captain, in charge of the offense. You can move forwards and midfielders up or back, and I want you to play center-mid. That way you can direct everybody around you, if you need to. Zones and lanes are now expanded to overlap by half."