Winning the game

"Listen up, boys!" Coach's voice brought me back to reality. 

I forced my focus forward, jaw tight, hands clenched at my sides as Coach paced slowly in front of us. His eyes swept the room, sharp and assessing, then stopped longer on me than usual. I pretended not to notice.

“Tonight’s game matters,” he continued. “Not just for rankings. Not just for the crowd. But for yourselves. I want discipline. I want focus. And I want no distractions.”

That word distractions hit harder than it should’ve. I had a lot on my mind.

"This is the first game of the season, so I don't expect you to be all that great," He went on and someone scoffed at his horrible attempt at a joke. However, Hudson Capaldi's' little moment with me was still moping around at the back of my head, untouched for a later time.

"But I do expect you to at least win this thing! So what do you say? Let's go beat those Rioting Rascals to a pulp!" Hoots and hollers of praise and approval resonated within the brick walls from the team, but all I could muster was a monotonous 'yeah.' I wasn't exactly pumped up, not with my bones brittle and muscles clenched from not having stretched like usual with the team.

At least I was slightly trying to act like everything was normal.

Finishing up getting dressed, I seized my helmet and skidded outside. Unlike other times, where I was hyped up and ready to win, I was only slightly raving, only slightly into it. It wasn't like the other times. I was alone, nothing was normal feeling, and I couldn't keep my mind on the game. It was on the fact that I was alone.

I lagged a step behind, helmet tucked under my arm, letting the noise wash over me without really sinking in. Everything blurred into movement and sound, routine carrying me forward when my head refused to cooperate.

Everything was like that until I felt someone’s shoulder pads brush against mine from behind. The contact was brief, almost accidental but it sent a jolt straight up my spine. I stiffened immediately.

Hudson.

I didn’t need to look to know it was him. I knew him quickly all because of his Creed Aventus perfume. He leaned in just enough for his voice to reach me, low and careful, meant only for my ear.

“Hey,” he murmured, breath warm against my ear. “You’re not as invisible as you think.” My grip tightened on the helmet when he went on.

His closeness did something unfair to me, cut through the fog, sharpened everything all at once. The noise faded into the background, replaced by the steady awareness of him at my back, solid and real.

“I’m fine,” I muttered automatically, even though we both knew that wasn’t true.

He didn’t call me out on it. Instead, his shoulder nudged mine again, grounding rather than invasive. “Just… don’t disappear out there,” he said quietly. “We need you.”

We.

The word lodged somewhere deep in my chest.

Before I could respond, he pulled back, already moving ahead to rejoin the others like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just cracked something open inside me with a few words.

I stood there for a second longer than necessary, heart beating too fast, mind suddenly too loud then I exhaled, slid my helmet on, and followed them out.

Hudson was probably right, I wasn't alone. I had my teammates. I had the coach and I had the people in the crowd that knew me. I didn’t want to let down my mother.

As the night went on with coach yelling at the top of his lungs and foul after foul dropping here and there, it eventually came down to the last few seconds on the clock. We were tied, and with the Riots having been flagged, we were quite close to the end field.

"Alright team! We got this!" I could hear Hudson cheering for the team. It wasn't normal, being something he never did. He was full of so many surprises tonight, I didn't know what to think of him acting different because of me.

Lining up like we did at practice, I moved my eyes between my teammates, looking in each and everyone of their eyes. That first football game was rough, I was rough, but I was silently telling them that we had it in the bag, that we were going to win. It may have been one of the few games we all played poorly at, but we were going to win no matter what.

Nodding, I did the whole shebang. "Blue 92... blue 92...hike!" Then we were off. Like at practice, no one was open. Ross was being shoved around like a rag doll, and Pete was about to get tackled. No one was open, no one except Hudson, who stood waving his arms frantically in the air signaling me that he was open.

Deeply taking in a breath, I threw my arm back and trusted the ball in his direction. In what felt like hours, was actually seconds, as the ball twirled through the air and landed straight into Hudson's hands. The bleachers started leaping around, almost like an uprising against a dictator, the loudness overpowering the opposing team's booing people.

A smile crept onto my lips, the feeling of relief and hands clapping me on the back as they passed me to get to Judson almost over throwing the depression. We had won, something I thought wouldn't have happened if it weren't for the strange encouragement from Hudson Capaldi.

We had won, all because of him. Normally I would have been sort of angry because he was a ball hog, he didn't know how to play with the team, but he did good. He actually did good. After his words to me before the game, I was just happy. I was happy that all the attention was off of me for once when I needed it be most of all. He did good because of me, for me, though, and it didn't sit well with me in my stomach. Was he acting like this only because my life was tumbling down? Was he only doing this because it was the right thing to do?

Turning away from the hurrahs and hazahs, I made my way to the changing rooms to get ready for the party that was definitely starting at Ross's later tonight.