19 Final Friends

Sarimah and Izzy arrived at the Soccer Centre forty-five minutes before the final game. Sarimah showed her parents around the building. They looked at the different team photos on the walls.

“So many teams are just girls,” her mother said. “That is so nice.”

Sarimah hugged both her parents when they found a seat in the bleachers. She walked to the dressing room to find she was the first one there. She grabbed her shoes from her backpack. She wasn’t alone for long before the door opened again.

“How’s it going?” Tamsen asked.

“Good, thank you. How is it going for you?”

Tamsen lowered herself gently to the bench. Sarimah studied the brace on Tamsen’s knee. It was a deep red and surrounded her leg in metal, plastic, and foam. Velcro straps circled her knee.

“It looks bad,” Sarimah said.

“I’ll be fine. As long as I’m ready for outdoor soccer. That’s more important.”

Sarimah nodded. “Yes, I can hardly wait for the sunshine.”

Sarimah wasn’t sure why Tamsen was talking to her after weeks of ignoring or insulting her.

They sat in silence for what felt like forever. Tamsen finally shifted in her seat again and started to talk.

“Look, I’m bad at this. But I want to tell you I’m sorry. I got mad at you at school when I hurt my knee. But, really, I was mad at myself because it was still sore when I had told everyone it was better. I rushed back into playing. It wasn’t your fault.”

Sarimah was trying to stay calm, but she wanted to yell and scream. She was mad at Tamsen for putting her through so much trouble. But she knew it wasn’t easy for Tamsen to apologize to her.

She decided to stay calm.

“Thank you,” Sarimah said. “I know how it feels when you want to play so badly but you cannot.”

“I guess refugee camps aren’t the best places for soccer,” Tamsen said.

“We were lucky. We left Syria earlier than a lot of others did, as soon as the fighting started. We lived in a camp. It was better than most. But it was different. There was no home to go to, after.”

Tamsen stretched her leg a little. There was another pause.

“Did you play much in Syria?” Tamsen asked.

“I would play whenever I could; in the street or in the park. There were many children where I lived.”

“You must have been on a good team. I mean, you are so good,” Tamsen said.

“Well, I feel like I don’t know much, compared to you. But I learned a lot from my father. He loves to watch. He used to play a lot, too,” Sarimah said.

“But you probably never played in the snow before.”

“No, that is new for me. I am still having trouble with it.”

“Nobody is very good in the snow. It’s just for fun. You really try hard, though. And you made the team happy to play and to have fun again. I like that. Anyway, I’ll let you get ready. Good luck.”

While Sarimah and Tamsen were talking, the rest of the team arrived. They were quiet, as they changed for the game.

Sarimah was eager to play. As she ran onto the field, she felt like she was leaping through the air. She finally felt like she belonged on the team.

Coach K called them all together. “Okay, we are playing the Sparks,” he said. “We know what to expect from them. They play smart, but there won’t be anything flashy. Play your game, and we should be just fine.”

He barked out some final orders and the girls charged through their warm-ups.

“We finally made it to the finals,” Izzy said, as they huddled for a pre-game cheer. “Let’s just keep playing the way we did in the semis.”

“Make it fun. Don’t forget that part,” Tamsen said.

Izzy looked surprised that the advice was coming from Tamsen. Then she laughed. Sarimah smiled at Tamsen. She looked around to see her teammates giggling in the huddle.

Finally, Sarimah thought. Everyone is happy.

The Blizzard stormed their opponents right from the start of the game. Giorgianna stripped the ball from a defender five minutes in. She passed it back to Kaelynn near the centre dot. Kaelynn kicked it all the way back to Izzy. From there, it went to Rosy, back to Sarimah and over to Lisa. The Sparks could only watch.

Every time a Sparks player tried to pressure the Blizzard, they moved the ball. Eventually, the Sparks retreated. They formed a defensive shell just outside their eighteen-yard box.

The Blizzard moved ahead easily. But they had to shoot from far away because of the tough defence. Few of their shots got close enough to threaten the Sparks’ goalie.

Sarimah and her teammates weren’t smiling as the first half ended.

“Don’t worry so much about the time,” Coach K said, during the break. “The chances will come. The Sparks know they can’t catch us.”

Sarimah grabbed a water bottle and took a drink and then handed the bottle to Molly. Sarimah saw someone coming toward her.

“Papa?”

The other girls looked at Sarimah, and then at her father. He was standing just outside the field. Coach K walked over to him and smiled.

“Welcome,” he said. “It is wonderful to see you again.”

Sarimah ran to give her father a hug. He shook hands with Coach K and then wrapped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“I do not wish to interrupt. I love football,” he said in halting English. “I have a plan.”

“We’re happy for the help. Let’s hear it,” Coach K said.

Sarimah’s father spoke to Sarimah in Arabic.

“It’s too complicated for his English,” she told the coach. “I’ll translate.”

“He says we need to crowd the right side,” Sarimah explained. “That is where the defence is weak. Overlap and look for a pass into their area. But not just in the air. We should go along the ground and sometimes behind the play, back to the top of the box.”

Sarimah knew her father liked soccer and knew a lot about it. But she had never heard him speak with such authority. He sounded just like a real coach. She tried to sound the same way.

“I was thinking the same thing. Let’s try it,” said Coach K. He grinned. “And maybe your father should come to more practices and games.”

Sarimah hugged her father again before he returned to his seat. Sarimah had never been more proud of him.