They didn’t win the game. In fact, Isham scored once more in the final minute to make it even more humiliating.
When the players lined up for the postgame handshakes, Jeff fell into line right behind Andi. Several of the Isham players made a point of telling her what a great play she’d made on Merion’s only goal.
“No idea why you aren’t starting,” said the Isham player who’d scored three of their goals.
After the handshakes and the exchange of cheers, Jeff looked up and saw a cluster of media members around Coach J. He’d almost forgotten that when he had told his dad on Wednesday that Andi was on the team, his dad had done a short item on that night’s broadcast about her change in fortune.
Clearly, a lot of the same people who had done the initial story had come back to follow up.
Jeff was surprised to see Coach J talking to the reporters. He knew the coach had refused to talk to his dad or anyone else for the initial stories. Now, he had about a half-dozen people around him, including a couple of guys with cameras.
Not his dad, though. He was in New York because the Phillies were beginning a crucial series with the Mets that night.
“We’ll send a camera and an intern,” his dad had said. “My guess is, if the coach talks, they’ll use something from him, and if Andi does anything in the game they’ll get something from her, too.”
Rather than head for the locker room, Jeff lingered, inching closer to the circle where Coach J was talking. Both Andi and Danny had done the same.
“She’d had only one practice with the team, so I wasn’t inclined to play her very much,” Jeff heard Coach J saying.
“But why did you take her out after she set up your only goal?” the NBC Sports–Philly intern said. Jeff knew who it was because she was holding a microphone with an NBC logo on it.
“She played ten minutes, and I had told the starters they’d get back in,” Coach J said. “She made a nice play—but a lot of the credit for the goal should go to Mike Craig. He made the steal that set the play up.”
“Six,” the intern said.
“What?” Coach Johnston said.
“She played six minutes, not ten.”
Coach J glared at her. Then he said, “Any more actual questions?”
Someone else asked how much playing time Andi might get the next time Merion played.
“We’ll see how practice goes on Monday,” the coach answered. “We’re playing our first conference game Tuesday. I’m inclined to go with the guys who’ve proven themselves already.”
Jeff almost gagged at that answer. Proven themselves? Those guys had been outscored 11–3 in two losses. No, 11–2, since Andi had been largely responsible for the one goal today.
Jeff felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Coach C.
“Locker room,” he said, pointing in that direction. “You too, Diskin. Andi, you stay. I suspect these guys want to talk to you.” He lowered his voice so Jeff, even standing a few feet away, could barely hear him. “Be careful what you say,” he advised as the cameras and tape recorders began turning to find her.
Coach J was walking away, one guy with a notebook pursuing him. Jeff wanted to stay, but Coach C’s message had been clear. He’d find out later what Andi said.
Andi wasn’t all that eager to talk to the reporters, especially after Coach Crist’s warning, but she knew she had to do it.
So when several of them asked if she could talk for a moment, she nodded her head and said yes. Coach C was still there, clearly to provide some sort of protection for her, and she was grateful.
“Give her some space, guys, back up a little,” he said as one of the camera guys seemed to put his camera right in her face.
The same woman who had pointed out to Coach J that Andi’d played only six minutes asked the first question.
“How do you feel about today?” she asked.
“It was great to be part of the team,” Andi said—which was the truth. “I wish we’d done better,” she added—also the truth.
“What about the way you played?” the same woman prompted.
“Well, I wasn’t out there very long,” Andi said, which brought a laugh. “But I thought I did okay.”
Someone else asked the next question, a very tall woman, also with a TV microphone.
“Do you expect to play more in your next game?” she asked.
“I guess we’ll find out Tuesday,” Andi said. “I hope so.”
She wasn’t sure if that was careful enough.
“Okay, gang, thanks for coming out,” Coach C said—a polite way of telling them that Andi was finished answering questions.
No one seemed to mind. The assistant coach put an arm around her and walked her away from the group.
“You did very well,” he said softly. “Is someone here to pick you up?”
Andi’s mom had been at the game but had been nowhere in sight—which concerned Andi. She looked around and saw her walking in their direction.
“There’s my mom,” she said, relieved.
Her mom walked up. “I’m so sorry, Andi, I just had to go to the ladies’ room as soon as the game ended.” She looked at Coach C. “Thanks for watching out for her.”
“She did very well with the media,” he said. Then he paused and added, “And in the game, too.”
“Do you think she might start on Tuesday?” Andi’s mom asked. “I mean, look what she did when she got a chance.”
Coach C shrugged. “Not my call,” he said. “But Coach J saw how well she played, too. We’ll see.”
He waved a friendly hand at both of them. “Gotta run,” he said. “My son has a game at six.”
“Your son?” Andi’s mom said. “Where does he play?”
“Haverford High School,” Coach C said. “And with Friday traffic, I’ll be lucky to be there for the start.”
He walked away. The field was now empty except for Andi and her mom.
“Seems like a nice guy,” her mom said.
“I think he is,” Andi said. “I just wish he was the coach.”
Her mom nodded, watching as the coach broke into a jog. “I suspect if he was, you’d be starting on Tuesday.”
Andi sighed. “Since he’s not,” she said, “I suspect I won’t be.”