Not much happened in the next ten minutes. For a while it appeared that both teams were content to play for a tie. It occurred to Andi as the clock wound down that a tie would keep Cynwyd’s chances to win the conference alive but would probably doom Merion.
That would explain why both her coaches kept yelling, “Push up, push up!” at their players. Andi knew they were right.
When a Cynwyd shot from long range flew over Bobby Woodward’s head and over the goal, the official blew his whistle to indicate that both teams wanted to sub. Coach J took Mark Adkins out and replaced him with Allan Isidro, who was probably the slowest player on the team, but also had the strongest leg. It wasn’t an accurate leg, which was why Isidro played midfield. At his best, Isidro might be able to set one of the forwards up with a long pass.
While the subs were being whistled in, Andi ran over to Arlow and waved a hand at Craig, Roth, and Jeff. All three saw her and hustled over.
“We can’t tie!” she said. “It’s not good enough if we want a chance to win conference. We have to gamble!”
“We know that, Carillo,” Arlow snapped.
“Shut up, Arlow; she’s right,” Craig said. “You better be ready. We’ve got to score.”
Arlow was about to say something in response, but the whistle blew and they all ran back to their positions as Woodward prepared to put the ball back in play.
Andi noticed that Cynwyd clearly didn’t want a tie, either. Even though it wouldn’t doom them, it would damage them. Plus, they no doubt thought they should win.
Roth had just lost the ball trying to push it into the offensive zone, and Cynwyd was on the attack—all three forwards and all four midfielders pushing forward. The midfielder who had taken the ball from Roth had quickly passed the ball to Carla Hastings, who had come back to get the pass and now began roaring down the left side.
Cynwyd had numbers: Roth was behind the play after losing the ball and so was Isidro for the simple reason that he was slow. Andi made a split-second decision and sprinted as fast as she could straight at Hastings. She had the advantage of not being slowed by dribbling the ball.
Hastings was moving into position to either set someone up or attack the goal herself. Merion’s defenders were cautiously staying back, afraid, no doubt, that Hastings would use her quickness to get past them.
Andi ran in a straight line at Hastings as she prepared to make a decision on what play to make. She wasn’t even looking at her when she slid, feetfirst, directly at the ball.
She felt the ball thump off her hip and saw it roll away. Then, she felt a foot slam into her head. She cried out in pain and rolled over, holding the spot where the kick had landed.
She didn’t know it, but the loose ball had been scooped up by Bobby Woodward as it rolled away from Hastings—thanks to Andi’s steal. She heard the whistle and, as she lay on her back, eyes closed, she heard a voice say, “Don’t move; don’t try to get up.”
She opened her eyes and saw Carla Hastings kneeling over her, concern written across her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I got you on my follow-through. I didn’t mean it.”
Andi just nodded. She heard more people coming. She had one thought: I can’t come out of this game.
By rule, she had to come out. Since the referee had stopped play for an injured player, there was no choice.
Jeff had run in Andi’s direction as soon as she went down, and he could hear Coach J demanding the referee give Hastings a red card—which meant ejection—for the play.
“Coach, I was right on the play,” the ref said. “Your kid made a great play but ended up right in the path of a foot that was already in motion.”
Jeff turned his attention to Andi. Coach C was on one knee talking to her.
“There’s no rush,” he said. “The ref has stopped the clock because you were knocked out.”
“I wasn’t knocked out, Coach,” Andi insisted. “I’m okay. My head hurts, but I’m okay.”
Hastings, who had been telling anyone who would listen that the kick was an accident, was standing next to Jeff and behind Coach C.
“She’s right, Coach. She wasn’t out. She opened her eyes right away.”
“She could still have a concussion,” Coach C said. He turned back to Andi.
“Who are we playing, Andi? What’s the score?”
“We’re playing Cynwyd, it’s one–one, there are about four minutes left, and I’m fine!” She shouted the last two words.
Jeff almost laughed when she said that.
Someone else was now on the field, kneeling next to Coach C.
“I’m a doctor,” the woman said. “Carla’s my daughter.” She looked down at Andi.
“Do you think you can sit up?” she asked her.
Andi responded by pushing herself up on her elbows and then sitting up.
“Dizzy?” the doctor asked. “Nauseous?”
“No and no,” Andi answered.
“Okay then, we’re going to help you up.” She looked at Coach C and added, “Slowly.”
Gently, they each took an arm and helped Andi to her feet. Those watching from the sidelines applauded. Hastings apologized again. Andi’s teammates moved in to gently console her, but the doctor held up a hand. “She needs some space. Let’s get her to the bench.”
As Dr. Hastings and Coach C walked Andi to the bench, the referee turned to Coach J. “I’m going to need a sub,” he said.
Coach J turned to Adkins. “Go for Andi,” he said.
Slowly, everyone returned to the field. Jeff saw 3:59 on the clock. The referee tossed the ball to Woodward, blew his whistle, and said, “Let’s play.”
And so they did.
Andi desperately wanted to get back in the game. She sat on the bench, with Carla Hastings’s mother on one side of her, Coach C on the other.
The doctor was asking her questions about what day of the week it was; how many fingers she was holding up; what had happened leading up to her getting kicked in the head.
She answered them all. “I’m okay,” she said, feeling the bump on her head. “I’ve got a little bump, but I remember everything clearly. I don’t have a concussion.”
“Are your parents here?” Coach C asked.
“No,” she said. “Both working.”
“Can you name all your teammates for me?” Dr. Hastings asked.
Andi sighed. The scoreboard clock said there were less than three minutes to play. She went through the team, closing her eyes to visualize where the starters were at the beginning of a game. Then she listed the five subs.
“What do you think, Doc?”
It was Coach J, who had walked over to the bench.
“I think she’s okay,” the doctor said. “She hasn’t missed an answer yet. If this were football, I’d say keep her out, but it isn’t. The one thing I’d require, though, if you decided to let her back in the game, is she agree not to try a header.”
“I promise,” Andi said, feeling hope and relief.
“How certain are you she’s not at risk?” Coach J asked.
“Ninety percent,” the doctor said.
The two coaches looked at each other.
“What do you think, Jason?” Coach J said.
“I’m still nervous,” Coach C said.
“So am I,” Coach J said.
He leaned down and put his arm gently around Andi’s shoulder. “Andi, I’m really sorry,” he said. “My second most important job is to try to help you kids have fun and win. My most important job is to keep you safe.”
Andi looked imploringly at Dr. Hastings.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I don’t disagree with your coaches.”
Andi looked at the clock again. Under two minutes. There was nothing to be done.