Jeff was angry when the game ended. He was angry that the team—himself included—had performed so badly. He was angry at Coach J for finding an excuse to not play Andi more. He was angry at the ref who had given him a yellow card for what he thought was a clean play.
He was even angrier when the kid he’d taken down introduced himself during their handshake. “I watch your dad on TV,” the kid said. “I thought you made a good play on me—for what it’s worth.”
It was nice to hear but, ultimately, worth nothing. Even though no one had said anything to him, he knew he was steadily improving. He felt good about that, and he knew that—like Andi—he should be starting. But none of that changed the fact that the team still hadn’t won a game.
He walked to the locker room with Andi and Danny Diskin. There was very little talk. The only thing that made this group a team in any way was that they were all wearing the same uniform.
Jeff was surprised when Coach J walked up from behind as they were about to reach the locker rooms and tapped Andi on the shoulder.
“You come inside for a minute with everyone else,” he said. “You need to hear what I have to say, too.”
He saw Ron Arlow look at the coach in surprise, but he said nothing.
“Everyone take a seat,” Coach C said once they were all inside.
They sat in front of their lockers. Andi squeezed in between Jeff and Danny. Coach C stepped aside and let his colleague address the team.
“That was an awful performance,” Coach J began.
Jeff looked straight down at the floor. He didn’t want the coach or anyone else to see him rolling his eyes as the coach began to point fingers—again.
“That team had about three good players. The best of them was the girl they had playing defense. But there’s no way we should have lost that game, and we certainly shouldn’t have lost it three–zip. I’m embarrassed and I hope all of you are, too.”
Here Coach J paused. “That being said, I owe you all an apology. I’ve been so focused on proving I was right that this shouldn’t be a coed team, that I haven’t done a very good coaching job. You guys have spent more time fighting with one another than our opponents. That’s mostly on me.”
He looked at Andi. “I haven’t always put our best players on the field.” He pointed at Jeff. “You agree with me on that, Michaels?”
For a second, Jeff sensed a trap. But he answered honestly. “Yes, sir, I agree,” he said.
Coach J swung his gaze to Arlow.
“What about you, Ron?”
“Sir?” Arlow said, baffled.
“Do you think I’ve done a good job getting our best players on the field?”
Arlow said nothing for a minute. The silence was deafening. “No, sir, I don’t,” he finally said.
“That ends next week,” Coach J said. “Coach C and I will decide who starts and who plays together. My first job as your coach is to see to it that all of you have fun playing soccer. My second job is to try to help you win games. I’ve failed miserably at both. I’ve created a toxic atmosphere. We’re not a team, we’re about five different cliques. That’s on the coach.”
He took a deep breath. “Any questions?”
Diskin’s hand shot up.
“Should have known,” Coach J said with a weary smile. “Yes, Diskin.”
“Coach, what’s a clique?”
Everyone laughed.
“Michaels, you tell him,” Coach J said.
“It’s a small group that sticks together and doesn’t let anyone else into the group,” Jeff said.
“Anyone disagree with that evaluation of this locker room?” Coach J asked.
“Yeah,” Jeff said. “Don’t you think it’s more like six cliques?”
The tension broke. Everyone laughed again—really laughed.
“You might be right, Michaels,” Coach J said. “I’ll see you all Monday. We’ll start over then.”
He turned and walked out.
Jeff looked at Andi and Danny.
“What just happened?” he asked.
Diskin grinned. “I think you and Andi just became starters,” he said. “And I think we just got better.”
“A lot better,” Mike Craig said, joining them. “Do you think we can start out Monday by electing a new captain?”
“Got any ideas?” Jeff asked.
“Sure do,” Craig said. He put an arm around Andi, who blushed noticeably.
“I better get out of here before you guys start showering,” she said.
Arlow—naturally—was already a step ahead. “Hey, Carillo,” he said. “You think maybe you can give us some privacy?”
“Like I was saying,” Craig muttered.
There was no election of a new team captain on Monday. But practice was noticeably different.
Andi and Jeff spent more time playing with the first team than with the second. Danny Diskin was restored to his spot with the first team for much of the afternoon.
Coach C was in charge for the day because, Coach J explained, he had come up with an idea to change the way the team lined up. Instead of using a two-four-four formation—two forwards, four midfielders, and four defenders—he explained that they were going to try a three-four-three, which might make them a little more vulnerable on the back line but more dangerous near the goal.
“We need to score more,” he said. “There’s an old basketball saying that the best teams are ‘hard to guard.’ We need to be harder to guard. We’ve scored four goals in four games, been shut out twice. That’s not good enough.”
The front line for much of the day consisted of Arlow, Craig, and Andi—with Andi on the left, Arlow in the middle, and Craig on the right. Arlow said nothing about the new setup but was noticeably quiet throughout the practice.
When it ended, Coach J brought them all to midfield.
“I thought we looked good today,” he said. “Coach C and I will talk tonight and we’ll have the starters posted for you tomorrow when you get here for the game. We’ve got Malvern tomorrow and then the next two games are on the road. Malvern’s two and oh in conference, so they’re obviously pretty good. We’ll need to play our best game of the season to have a chance to win. So let’s be ready.”
He looked at Arlow.
“Ron, bring them in.”
Arlow looked about as eager to lead a cheer as walk on hot coals. But he walked to the midfield spot, put his arm up in the air and said, “Everyone come on in,” with little enthusiasm.
Everyone walked into the circle and put their arms in.
“Beat Malvern,” Arlow said, as if reciting the alphabet.
The response was considerably more enthusiastic. “Beat Malvern!” they yelled.
Everyone looked at the coaches, wondering if they would have any comment about Arlow’s apparent disinterest. Neither said anything. Without another word, they all headed to the locker room.