Page 108 of Playing to Win

He didn’t mind being a substitute. He’d rather finish the game than start it, and he knew his knee wouldn’t last ninety-plus minutes yet. Besides, this way he could evaluate both teams’ strengths and weaknesses from the outside.

Barrowfield AFC had just been promoted into the second division from the third, which meant they should have sucked. Instead, they seemed determined to prove they belonged here, playing with offensive passion and defensive discipline. Meanwhile the Warriors had only managed two shots, neither of them on target.

“Why won’t Evan pass to Shona?” Colin asked Charlotte, mirroring her frown and folded arms as they observed the play from the bench. “He dicks around out there until Duncan is open, and half the time the ball gets stolen or he’s suffocated along the edge.”

“He says she’s slow.”

“Shona’s proper fast, just not compared to Duncan. But neither am I.”

“You and her both make up for it by being clever. I’ll take deviousness over speed any day.”

Colin smiled inside. He loved confusing defenders with decoy runs or “pre-fakes,” making them think he was going one way with his feet or with a pass, then doing the opposite. Best of all was playing a long con, letting defenders think they’d worked out his pattern, then surprising them when he found a chance to score.

The crowd behind them began singing the Warriors’ version of “Football Crazy,” made famous by their viral video promoting July’s charity friendly match. Colin turned to see the bleachers crammed out with fans waving rainbow flags and banners. In the front row, six guys were each covered head to toe in one color of the rainbow, including painted faces and puffy clown wigs.

As each Warrior took control of the ball on the pitch, the Rainbow Regiment shouted his or her name. Even the new fans knew all the Warriors, thanks to the team’s revamped website, which featured players’ photos and essential stats such as favorite night clubs, how they liked their eggs cooked, and which celebrity they’d most love to “turn.”

At the center of the Rainbow Regiment sat Fergus’s boyfriend, John, right next to Duncan’s boyfriend, Brodie. Seeing them made Colin wish more than ever that Andrew were here—not just to hear his voice, but to know he was safe. The image of that marked-up magazine, with its blood-red slash across Andrew’s throat, was still etched upon Colin’s mind.

A collective shout from the crowd snapped Colin’s attention back to the pitch, where Evan had face-planted, a Barrowfield winger streaking away with the ball. Evan rolled to his knees and spread his arms to beg for a foul, but the referee ran past, shaking his head.

“Stop whingeing and get back to defend,” Colin murmured under his breath, even as Charlotte yelled something to the same effect.

By the time Evan got to his feet, Barrowfield’s three forwards were relaying the ball outside the Warriors’ penalty area. But center-backs Robert and Liam, together with Fergus in deep midfield in front of them, quickly shut down the attack.

Thank God something’s still working.Those three players, along with their goalkeeper, Heather, formed the Warriors’ rock-solid spine.

Halftime arrived, and the starting players trudged back to the bench, faces twisted with frustration.

“I’m making an offensive change,” Charlotte said once they’d all gathered round, water bottles in hand. “MacDuff’s coming in for the second half.”

Everyone nodded excitedly, Katie and Duncan giving Colin the thumbs-up signal.

“Hollister, you’re coming off.” Charlotte held up a hand to silence Evan’s protest. “We’re switching to a 4-3-3 formation to solidify our attack, so we need one fewer midfielder.”

“But I’m yourbestmidfielder!” Evan said, right in front of all the others, the prick.

“Your selfish play would indicate otherwise,” Charlotte replied. “You keep waiting and waiting to make that mythical perfect pass to Harris. A pass that poets will pen sonnets about. Meanwhile, you’ve got Redfield making herself wide open.”

Duncan spoke up. “If we’re playing 4-3-3, who’s the center forward? Me, right?”

“For now it’s MacDuff,” Charlotte said. “Putting him upfield as a lone striker means he’ll cover less ground. We need his goals, but I also need to keep his running distance to a minimum, especially on artificial turf.”

Duncan nodded reluctantly, eyeing Colin’s knee. “Okay. That makes sense.”

Colin frowned. This assignment had come because of his injury, not his talents. But he’d prove today that his leg was brand new, and then he’d have any position he wanted. Including Evan’s.

Charlotte nodded to Colin. “Start warming up.”

He gave a quick salute, then jogged down the touchline alone, happy to leave the arguing behind. Cheers rose from the spectators as they realized he was to be subbed in.

Colin kept his eyes on the turf beneath his feet as he mentally reviewed Barrowfield’s strengths and weaknesses—which center-backs committed too early to tackles, which fullbacks hesitated to come inside, which midfielders seemed on the verge of heat exhaustion…

He was going to be the difference. Again. More than mere football was at stake. The hopes and aspirations of the LGBT community, in Glasgow and on the internet, rode with the Warriors. This morning the team’s Twitter feed had been flooded with countless wishes ofGood luck!andScore a goal for me!from people who’d never been to a single match. The world was watching.

As halftime ended, Colin jogged onto the pitch, feeling every nerve ending in his body firing at once. He was so ready.

Then a woman’s voice rang out, clear as day:

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