Page 40 of Love and Other Goals

Taking my seat next to Amaya, I turn to see her looking at me with both eyebrows raised. “So, you were like, really into soccer, weren’t you.” She says it as more of a statement than a question, and I shrug one shoulder in response.

“I’ve never seen you so enthusiastic about anything, except maybe law school. If you loved soccer so much, why’d you quit?” Amaya asks.

I consider how to explain my past choice. “I suppose I just saw it as an all-or-nothing thing. It was time to move on to my future career, so I left soccer behind to make way for becoming a lawyer.”

Amaya considers this and nods. “That tracks with your personality. You certainly approach things with intensity.”

It’s an accurate statement. “Yeah, I guess the same intensity I used to play soccer I then channeled into trying to forget soccer. I’m not saying it was the right move, or that I wouldn’t go back and change it, but that’s how my brain approached it at the time,” I conclude.

“Well, Miss Soccer Pro, what the heck does offside mean? You were all worked up but I don’t get it at all,” Amaya says.

Amaya loves football, so I explain it to her in a way that will track for her. “Okay, pretend the soccer offside rule applies to football. Imagine the quarterback is getting ready to throw a pass to a receiver.” Amaya is nodding along; I’m definitely speaking her language now. “If football had the same rules as soccer, then when they’re on the opponent’s half of the field and the quarterback is throwing the ball, the receiver has to have at least one defender between him and the goal line. After the ball leaves the quarterback’s hand, it’s okay if the receiver is faster and runs behind the defender to catch the ball and score. But he can’t run behind the defenders until after the ball is thrown, or he’s offside and no touchdown. What counts is when the pass is made, not when it’s caught. Does that make sense?”

Amaya nods. “Yep, it does. That rule kinda sucks though.”

I laugh. “It does when you’re on offense! But it keeps the game more interesting and competitive because a player can’t just hang out right next to the goal the whole time. There has to be more strategy and passing that way.”

The teams take the field to begin the second half, so we turn our attention back to the match. There’s evidently a lot of heated trash talk going on as players start getting more and more chippy.

We’re still up 1-0, but the opposing team has the ball on our half of the field. Chris makes an amazing steal and sends the ball to the other side, where Mateo settles the pass. He dribbles straight down the field, juking a defender and making a breakaway toward the box. He shoots hard at the goal, but it’s blocked by the keeper. However, the sheer force of the kick ricochets the soccer ball off the keeper’s body, and Mateo taps the ball in on the second attempt to score.

I’m jumping, yelling, screaming, and chest bumping with Amaya as Mateo is mobbed by the team celebrating with him. The opposing players are visibly frustrated and upset, understandable since they’re now behind 2-0.

The clock is winding down with only a few minutes left, and our players are putting together another good offensive run. Andrès and Mateo are both within the box, fighting defenders for position. A pass is made to Mateo, and he fields it and pivots to either shoot or pass, but a defender runs full speed at him and knocks into him, tripping his legs before he can kick. Mateo rolls to the ground as the Townsend fans are up in arms.

I’m the first to my feet, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Re-fer-REE! Red card, red card!!” Andrès is up in the player’s face, who’s being held back by a teammate, and Jamar helps Mateo to his feet. Mateo immediately gets between the defender and Andrès, backing him away with an arm across his chest. Finally, the center ref runs over and holds up a yellow card to the offending player, and signals a penalty kick for Mateo.

At this point in the match, it’s nearly impossible for the other team to come back to beat or even tie us. But after that flagrant foul, I’m seeing red, and I want Mateo to get a successful PK just to rub it in the defender’s face. Hey, I never claimed to be calm or rational about soccer. Or Mateo, at this point.

The goalie crouches at the ready as Mateo positions the ball, but then I swear he looks over his shoulder at the stands, a smile on his face. He takes a few large steps back from the ball, and takes a running approach—right before he Jorginho hops and sends the ball into the net.

Townsend fans erupt, glad to see the opponents put in their place after such a heated match. Amaya and I are high-fiving as Mateo turns and meets my eyes in the stands, grinning and giving a little hop kick right before he’s mobbed by teammates. I’m smiling ear-to-ear clapping, and Amaya elbows me in the side. “Ooo girl, you’ve got it bad.”

Our team wildly celebrates their decisive victory after the final whistle blows, Mateo at the center of the mosh pit of players. Since I’m staying at the complex to meet Mateo, Amaya and I wait in the stands for the crowd to exit. I explain when a penalty kick is awarded and yellow cards vs. red cards to her. We eventually head down to the parking lot, and I hug her before she gets in her car.

“Thanks for coming with me, Amaya. I know soccer isn’t your thing, but I’m glad I had a Beef to watch it with,” I tell her.

“Football is definitely more my speed, but I can’t deny that was exciting to watch. Or maybe you were just exciting to watch,” she says with a smirk. I fake punch her in the arm and walk away smiling.

I follow Mateo’s directions to the area outside the locker room doors and see three other girls waiting. They’re talking and laughing like they know each other already. I feel a little nervous approaching the group, but try to act like I fit in.

One of the girls hears me coming and turns to greet me. “Hey! I’m Linh. You must be Lana. Mateo told my boyfriend, Shawn, that you’d be hanging out.”

Her welcome calms my nerves, and the other girls are also smiling, so I step closer. They introduce themselves as Samantha and Reagan, girlfriends of Jorge and Jamar, respectively. They ask how long Mateo and I have been dating, so I tell them just a few weeks.

“And you’ve already got the girlfriend jersey—Mateo must be serious,” Reagan says. “I think Jamar and I had been dating for almost four months before he gave me his jersey to wear!”

I start to blush, but Linh speaks up to rescue me from embarrassment about Mateo by pointing out my screaming at the game. “Didn’t I hear you yelling all sorts of stuff at the refs?” she teases.

Embarrassment redirected, I confess my soccer history and enthusiasm, which opens the floodgates of questions. These girls are obviously supportive of their boyfriends but unfamiliar with the rules of soccer. They’re listening intently as I explain how they determine if it’s a throw-in, corner kick, or goal kick when we hear the locker room doors opening.

The first player to emerge must be Jorge, because Samantha launches herself at him, jumping up with her legs wrapped around his waist. A couple of other guys come out the doors, and then Jamar makes his way over to Reagan. They immediately begin intensely making out. Even Linh, who seemed a little more reserved, is affectionately greeting Shawn with her hands in his hair and his in her back pockets.

I’m starting to panic as I see Mateo come out the door, feeling totally unsure about how to approach him with all these very public displays of affection going on around me. His absurd ability to look unbelievably attractive in Nike joggers and a team hoodie is doing nothing to quell the whirling butterflies.

I don’t have to panic for long because Mateo confidently strides over and envelops me in a hug. I wrap my arms around his waist and breathe in his freshly-showered scent with my eyes closed. Mateo holds me in the hug for a long moment before leaning his mouth right next to my ear and speaking in a low voice. “You look super hot wearing my jersey.”

My face floods with heat as he pulls back to look at me with a mischievous smile, then he brushes his knuckles across my flushed cheek. “And now you look super adorable.”

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