Ray's eyes were stinging from fatigue. He closed and rubbed them vigorously, even though he knew it was only going to make it worse. It had been another restless night; a combination of his fucked up knee bothering him, and another nightmare exaggerating the cause - resulting in the standard procedure of bolting up screaming, his body dripping in cold sweat. He rubbed the offending kneecap in frustration, as though his aggressive touch could miraculously repair his ACL, like one of those dumbass televangelists that were always claiming the cure of this and that in this crazy part of the world he found himself in. He then looked up, shielding his eyes from the blazing afternoon sun, and went back to observing the shit show in front of him.

How the fuck did I end up here?

For the 22 year old right winger from Oxford, England, here was Texas State University, on the dry, beat-up stadia that was the Bobcats' training pitch. Sorry, field. He was still learning the language. Some of the college's cheerleaders were practicing some routine or another, stacking each other that made him wince - Jesus, be careful. Some of the football players - the American kind - couldn't keep away, these thugs tossing a ball amongst each other - but Ray knew both they and most onlookers from the field's one stand were just there to observe both cheerleaders and tryouts for the Women's football - soccer - team.

Unfortunately for him, that's also why he was here. Oxford United - his boyhood club where he made his name, for what little that was worth now - had offered him a scouting role. Ray had often got his manager's back up with his forthright opinions about both United's playing squad (usually derogatory) and the replacements he should sign. Robby Dryden, his manager, would always tell him to "shut the fuck up and play your own game" - but clearly he'd thought his former prodigy had always had a point. Either that or it was a pity offer. And the money really was pitiful - especially considering he had been expecting an offer from Crystal Palace over the previous summer, and a Premier League salary to match. Now, he had a gimpy leg and a £14,000 / year salary offer on the table.

He had been poised to accept - what the fuck else was he supposed to do, with no AS-Levels to his name? - when his phone rang. +001 number. What the hell?

"Hello?"

Is this Ray Kendrick?" Well, the accent checks out.

"Yeah?..."

"Gavin Richardson, Texas State."

"Err… I'm sorry?"

"Sorry! Texas State University."

"Uhh… OK?" What the fuck?

"I heard about your injury & having to quit. I'm sorry to hear that." Ray felt it would sound more sincere if it weren't for that Southern drawl which was clearly from a middle-aged man. He was getting stereotypical images of an oil baron with a huge hat and tacky suit, even though he'd already been informed the man was an educator.

"Thanks."

"Look… I'll cut to the chase. What are you doing now? Got a job?"

"Got an offer from Oxford United."

"Doing what?"

"Youth scout."

"How do you feel about that?"

How did Ray feel about that? It hadn't occurred to him to ponder on that. It was the only football job offered to him, and he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

"Errrr…" he stammered… "It's football. That's what matters."

"What?"

"Soccer."

"Oh. Yeah, of course." Some football guy this is. "What'll you be making?"

Another unexpected question. Ray did not appreciate the intrusion. "What's it to you?"

"Well… look. We've needed a soccer coach for some time here. Someone who could make a difference, who could bring these kids on. It'd mainly be coaching the girl's team, although you'd be expected to assist with the guy's coaching too."

"Is this a wind-up?"

The voice on the other end let out a guffaw, giving away that he was probably overweight. Another stereotype.

"Ummm… okay… how do you know who I am?"

"One of your other scouts was here, watching some of the boys in the area. Was it Trevor?"

"Yeah, I know him. He'd be my boss in the new job."

"Well, we got talking & he mentioned what happened. Says you're the best player they had & would've played at the top level."

"He's right." Not a moment's hesitation. Ray called it the way he saw it with his own ability too.

"Damn shame. But he thought the world of you - seemed to think your future was in coaching rather than scouting?"

"Yeah." The common connection saw Ray starting to let his guard down. "Trevor's a good bloke. He talked me into starting my coaching badges during my recovery. Said I should prepare for the future, in case the worst happened." He ignored the lump starting to form in his throat.

"Smart guy. But yeah, he obviously saw potential in that career - recommended you for the job. We'd love for you to interview over video."

Were Oxford that keen to offload him? Spending a long time on the sidelines had always made the 22-year-old paranoid about having to leave. But somehow he'd never been abroad, and he'd always fancied it. "What's the pay?"

"Well, look. Soccer's growing as a sport over here for sure, but right now, it's still behind the big boys. And you're new to coaching…"

That's why they were interested. Hire a kid, pay them accordingly. Ray guessed salary was probably why they hadn't had a coach "for a while" too. "How much?"

"Twenty-two thousand dollars a year."

Ray did some maths in his head… then responded hesitantly "OK, so when did you want to do this interview?"

So here he found himself, in a dustbowl, 28 degrees - about 10 more than his pale skin could cope with - observing the 15 registered tryouts, who were finishing their different drills in groups four (one group of three) - passing, tackling, dribbling & finishing. The current squad had only 14 players, and just one goalkeeper. He really wished another had attended amongst the current crop.

Hell, he wished a tryout had turned up who was anywhere near the standard he had been hoping for. No naturals. The pace of the drills since the afternoon had begun was very slow, indicating that many probably weren't up to the task. Perhaps many weren't even interested in the game, just looking for the extra credit. "I want one touch, two-touch! Faster!" He had consistently yelled throughout the session, indicating a desire to see them control the ball and move it to a teammate with maximum speed & efficiency. Most of the girls had looked back in him with irritation and bewilderment, as though he'd asked them to bend time and itself.

Only one had really caught his eye. An ash-blonde who had excelled during the tackling drill. None of the other tryouts could beat her. If they tried to dribble past her she would either out-muscle them off the ball, or dispossess them by means of simply coming between them and the ball - punishing them for their loose touch - or by means of a crunching slide-tackle, where the better tryouts had required more reach or determination to take the ball away. Ray was surprised at how quickly she anticipated what her opponent was going to do; similarly, when the other girls attempted to pass the ball around her in a triangle, they couldn't get more than one or two passes away before she shut the player with the ball down, cutting out the pass that was coming next.

"Definitely need to speak to her." Ray vocalised his assessment. Not perfect - her ball control & passing, like the other girls, was wayward. She was slender, not built like a defender needed to be. Quiet too. But she obviously had determination not to be beaten - essential. It certainly made her the best of a bad bunch.

"To who?"

Ray jumped and spun to his right - clearly he had been more engrossed in proceedings than he realised. An unfamiliar voice had caught him completely by surprise. "Jesus!" He tried to sound playful but couldn't hide a strand of irritation at being startled.

Then he didn't care anymore - holy shit. His ambusher was a petite, impossibly pretty redhead who flashed him a wide, beautiful smile whilst letting out a slight giggle. "Sorry!" She was clearly amused at the unexpected shock she'd caused. Ray's face flashed with embarrassment.

"It's OK." He heaved a breath that emphasised the level of his surprise. He turned to face her, and tried to dig around for the minimal sense of humour he possessed, but couldn't find anything witty to say, so instead just staring gormlessly for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Such a charmer. His hands started to get even clammier than the heat had already made them. She had two platts in her long hair that met in the middle, then the single arrangement made it's way down her back. She was wearing vintage-looking navy summer dress with small flowers on them, and black boots that could not have comfortable to navigate the field with.

She is gorgeous.

"So…. you're the coach?" Red broke eye contact and turned to face the players in front of them. Ray observed that her eyes had narrowed slightly & her playful tone had changed to something more neutral. You are such a fucking awkward motherfucker, Ray admonished himself before turning back to tryouts. "Uh, yeah… SWITCH PLEASE LADIES!" He instructed, distracting himself from the complete dick he'd dick he'd just made of himself. The four groups switched the coned areas of the field they were using counter-clockwise, in order to move onto the next drill lined up for them.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his heightened self-awareness. "Yeah. Just started. Ray." He thrust out his hand with a little too much eagerness, then panicked as he realised it was super clammy, from both the heat & sudden bout of nerves. Red shook it anyway, and replied "so… who you speaking to? You're recruiting right?"

"Yeah, tryouts. You play?"

Red laughed. It was light-hearted & infectious. "No way! I'd be, like, beyond terrible. Just supporting."

"You a student here?" Ray felt his stomach knot slightly. Please don't be a student.

"Nah. I'm from out of town. Just visiting." Ray noticed Red trying to subtly wipe her hand that had just been soaked by his, and then his eyes travelled to notice a suitcase handle in her other hand, connected to a huge trunk on wheels. Jesus, how long are you visiting for?

Please be for ages.

"You know one of these girls, then?"

"Yeah…" Red scanned the different groups with her eyes, before pointing. "Her." Ray followed the line which had been indicated, and found they lead to the girl he was going to be his new defender. She had just joined the passing drills, and when it came to technical skills she wasn't standing out. "What do you think?" Red looked up to face Ray, her face more in hope than anticipation.

"Actually, she's the girl I wanted to talk to. In the defensive drills she's stood out from the pack. Hoping she'll join the squad for the season." Why am I volunteering this information?

"Ahh!" Red squealed quietly and hastily clapped her hands. "That's so awesome! She hasn't been playing too long, hell until about a year or two ago she hated sports."

Ray raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Goddamn… she's a fast learner then."

"Eeee she'll be so excited. You have to let me tell her."

Red didn't wait for the coach's authorisation. Or even for the training session to finish. She cupped her hands to her mouth to amplify her voice to the training session…

"Amy!... AMY!"

At the second prompting, the centre-half-to-be spun around, and Ray could see she was visibly stunned, stopping completely in her tracks. Her jaw seemed to fall through the dusty surface.

"Holy shit… no way… Karma?!"

Clearly this was indicating the end of her tryout, as 'Amy' broke from the pack and sprinted over towards Red, and on arrival threw two completely undignified arms around her, her momentum sending them both sprawling to the floor, suitcase flying a good two feet away. They both squealed and laughed hysterically, both from the fall and their obvious joy. It must have been infectious, as he found himself grinning from ear to ear along with them. "Know each other then?"

They laughed again and Amy finally rolled off of Red, both sitting up. "You could say that, coach." She beamed at him mischievously. "This is my ex-girlfriend, Karma!" She thrust both arms out towards Red, as though she were presenting her in front of a crowd and anticipating rapturous applause. They both fell about laughing again. Ray narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure if this was true information, or some sort of in-joke that existed between them. Or if they were a nightmare duo that were already teasing him.

His smile wore off. He never had been good at reading people, especially on first impressions, so he instead turned back to the tryouts, who had all stopped to watched the noisy reunion. They were more or less at the end of the hour, anyway. "Let's wrap it up then, ladies." One or two seemed slightly agitated that their session had presumably been ended by Red, but most seemed grateful to get back to the showers, given the pulsating heat.

Red had picked herself up, and was now gazing straight at Ray. He turned back to face her and looked quizzically. "Seriously," She gave him a flirtatious smile and licked her lips… "I couldn't keep away any more… she was an amazing lover."

Amazing was emphasised in a hushed, sensual tone, and the coach felt his eyes involuntarily widen, his heart starting to beat faster.

Amy laughed loudly and, still sat down, leaned over to slap Red on the back of the legs lightly. "Leave him alone, Karma! Can't you see you're giving him an aneurysm?!" Red half-turned back to face her 'ex-girlfriend', wiggling her eyebrows with wicked playfulness. Amy looked passed her to address Ray - "ignore her."

Easier said than done. Ray could feel his cheeks burning and peeled his gaze away from Red. He rubbed his eyes and then the back of his head, where a headache had started forming.

Quality. Such a professional, you are.

He sighed. It's going to be a long season.