Within the first two minutes of the game, Mafaz threw the ball in to Destyn, who dribbled it down into scoring area, then passed it over to Jessica, who kicked it straight into the goal. It was beautiful. It was holy. It was like the whole universe for a second was all lined up right like tumblers in the lock guarding pure joy. I will never forget the smile on everyone’s faces when they ran back for the kick off, looking over at the sideline, especially Jessica’s. I could not have been happier.
I remember the time I first met Jessica. We were halfway through our first game, when up walks a woman, claiming that she had signed up her daughter just yesterday, and this was her team. Now, a lot of people had come up before asking if this was their team both at our first practice and that first game, which were two days apart. My experience with YMCA soccer is a month of silence followed by a completely sudden phone call for first practice and first game with uniforms flying at you as fast as team rosters, schedules, and sign-up sheets for snacks and drinks. So, it was not unusual for someone to wander up to me right in the middle of the game as I was doing a bit of high octane coaching with a query about team membership. So this woman says in broken English this is her daughter’s team, and can she play.
What do you do?
I patiently explained to her that we were already playing this game, and that if this is indeed her team, she can show up at practice next week, and if so, I’m happy to include her. I am thinking in the back of my mind: Who
are these people? And I need to call the director and ask them if this is real or if these people are just trying to scam a cool uniform, and if it’s real, why didn’t they call me? I was very polite. I don’t think she understood much of what I said.
I asked her if she’s sure this is her team, and tell her that there are a lot of teams, and she’s not on my list (over those few whirlwind days I had probably referred to my list a dozen times). She assured me that this was her team because when she filled out the application form, she requested that she be on the same tame as her cousin, Katia, who was on our team. Oh. I remember looking at this woman staring at me, and I remember looking down at this little girl in her pastel shorts, shirt, and flip flops. I told her that in that case this probably was her team. I welcomed them and invited them to stay and watch, and told them when to show up for practice.
We now turn our attention back to the game, which we are supposed to be coaching.
But my mind was spinning pretty fast, processing this picture. The next time the ball went out of bounds I turned to Jill, explained the story, pointed out the people, and asked her what she thought. I told her I had another uniform in the trunk this girl could have. She shrugged and said it sounded good to her. I sent Jill after the uniform, and then went and found the woman and her daughter, and told them that she could play. Today. They were amazed. The whole family reminded me of one of those little bitty dogs that get shaky and jumpy with excitement when you come around, spinning, jumping, chasing their tail, not really knowing what to do. I told them her uniform would be here in a few minutes. Jessica smiled as she jumped up and down and clapped her hands.
Now I just had to figure out what to do with her.
So I put her in at defense. I figured she couldn’t do much damage there. And she didn’t. We tied the game 1-1, although I don’t know how. It felt like we were getting whipped. It was the herd of turtles thing.
The other thing I remember was after the game seeing Jessica wearing her new uniform with flip flops. And wondering if she had just played the whole fourth quarter in them.
Anyway, since then I’ve made some changes—the important one to this story being a breakaway back, who just stands down at the other team’s end and waits for the ball to come to them, and then kicks it in. I tried a couple of my stronger players out down there, figuring that if someone could dribble pretty well, he could get into a non-herd situation and actually score. That was disastrous. Do you know how hard it is to get a 10 year old boy to stand still and wait for some ball to come to him? Yeah. Thought so.
Enter Jessica. I tried her at the position. As soon as the other team kicks off, she runs as fast as she can the opposite direction to wait by their goal. And she just waits there for the ball. I can’t tell you how many times the ball has come to her. And as soon as she gets it the other team just pounces on her. She’s such a tiny thing. With a big smile. Last week, she actually took several shots. And every time the ball just didn’t have enough umph to get across that line. One time she actually did get it across but the ref wasn’t looking so she didn’t get credit, but that’s another story. It’s also another story how many times she asked, “Coach, didn’t I score?” “Yes, but they didn’t count it. But you and I know the truth.”
So, you already read the end of the story. We won the game, too, and everyone was excited about that, but I got my payoff in that first play. And it wasn’t just Jessica. It was everyone. It was the way they shared, the way they saw her, the way they gave up what they had so she could shine. And even if the ball hadn’t gone in the net I still would’ve been proud to be their coach, proud to be on their team, proud to be human. But this time it did go in. And it reminded me that life does work, that team is possible, and that joy still rolls in from time to time.
