CHEERING SECTION
As Ryan jogged onto the soccer field, he heard his name and several "You're number one!" and "You da man!" shouts. A small embarrassed smile crossed his lips as he turned his head slightly in the direction of the shouts. There they were his own personal cheering section: Sandy, Seth, Summer, Marissa and even Kirsten, her first game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sandy start the wave, Seth follow and Summer look at them like she was sitting with losers. Ryan was sure he heard an "Ew, no Cohen." Ryan shook his head at their goofiness and joined his team on the field. Secretly, Ryan got a kick out of their kooky behavior but he would never let them know that. Instead, he would try to ignore them and later tell them what fools they had made of themselves. But they would just laugh and tell him he loves it.
Up and down the field the game went, and every time Ryan had the ball he could hear shouts from the stand.
"Go, Ryan!"
"Show'em how to play soccer, Ryan!" were the usual cheers.
But occasionally there was the odd "What are you blind, ump!"
He would have to tell Kirsten later they were called referees and did not take kindly to being called ump, not to mention blind.
Just before halftime, Ryan scored on a penalty kick. A couple of his teammates came running at him and gave him the congratulatory macho hug and slap. Ryan snuck a proud glance into the stands and saw his cheering section screaming. Sandy started the wave in their little group again. This time he had little more success as Seth dragged up an eye-rolling Summer, who then dragged up Marissa, who then had to tap Kirsten on the shoulder to get her to jump and then sit down quickly.
"Man, what a bunch of losers!" Ryan laughed and shook his head as he ran off the field for halftime.
Just as he was about to join the team at the bench he spotted Sandy running up to him with his favorite, ice cold Gatorade. He had told Sandy a couple of times that the team had drinks but he persisted; besides Ryan liked that drink anyway. He could handle the ribbing he would take in the locker room after the game. So what if no one else's parents brought them special drinks, Sandy did.
By the time the coach had finished yelling at the team for all of their dumb plays it was time to start the second half. Ryan sat on the bench waiting to be put back into the game. As he watched the game he thought of the games he had played when he was nine, right before his father had been arrested. He remembered how he loved playing and how he longed to have someone in the stands cheering just for him. During his first games he would always look into the stands after he had made a good play, hoping to see someone there. But there never was and after a while he no longer looked. Once Dawn had shown up at the last few minutes of the game, Ryan saw her stumble up the stands and several people put out there hands to catch her when it looked like she might fall. And when the game ended, Ryan got on his bike and rode to his friend, Mike's house. Dawn never saw him, she was still trying to focus on which player was Ryan. She mentioned the visit and Ryan let her think she had gone to the wrong game. After that he only hoped his family would not show up at the games. And they never did.
Now here he was, 16, and he had his own personal cheering section, people who sat in that stands acting silly and cheering for him. People's stares did not faze them; Ryan's little embarrassed head shake was enough to keep them going. They were right he did kinda like it. Sometimes for just a moment Ryan would let himself forget they were not always his family.
As Ryan jogged onto the soccer field, he heard his name and several "You're number one!" and "You da man!" shouts. A small embarrassed smile crossed his lips as he turned his head slightly in the direction of the shouts. There they were his own personal cheering section: Sandy, Seth, Summer, Marissa and even Kirsten, her first game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sandy start the wave, Seth follow and Summer look at them like she was sitting with losers. Ryan was sure he heard an "Ew, no Cohen." Ryan shook his head at their goofiness and joined his team on the field. Secretly, Ryan got a kick out of their kooky behavior but he would never let them know that. Instead, he would try to ignore them and later tell them what fools they had made of themselves. But they would just laugh and tell him he loves it.
Up and down the field the game went, and every time Ryan had the ball he could hear shouts from the stand.
"Go, Ryan!"
"Show'em how to play soccer, Ryan!" were the usual cheers.
But occasionally there was the odd "What are you blind, ump!"
He would have to tell Kirsten later they were called referees and did not take kindly to being called ump, not to mention blind.
Just before halftime, Ryan scored on a penalty kick. A couple of his teammates came running at him and gave him the congratulatory macho hug and slap. Ryan snuck a proud glance into the stands and saw his cheering section screaming. Sandy started the wave in their little group again. This time he had little more success as Seth dragged up an eye-rolling Summer, who then dragged up Marissa, who then had to tap Kirsten on the shoulder to get her to jump and then sit down quickly.
"Man, what a bunch of losers!" Ryan laughed and shook his head as he ran off the field for halftime.
Just as he was about to join the team at the bench he spotted Sandy running up to him with his favorite, ice cold Gatorade. He had told Sandy a couple of times that the team had drinks but he persisted; besides Ryan liked that drink anyway. He could handle the ribbing he would take in the locker room after the game. So what if no one else's parents brought them special drinks, Sandy did.
By the time the coach had finished yelling at the team for all of their dumb plays it was time to start the second half. Ryan sat on the bench waiting to be put back into the game. As he watched the game he thought of the games he had played when he was nine, right before his father had been arrested. He remembered how he loved playing and how he longed to have someone in the stands cheering just for him. During his first games he would always look into the stands after he had made a good play, hoping to see someone there. But there never was and after a while he no longer looked. Once Dawn had shown up at the last few minutes of the game, Ryan saw her stumble up the stands and several people put out there hands to catch her when it looked like she might fall. And when the game ended, Ryan got on his bike and rode to his friend, Mike's house. Dawn never saw him, she was still trying to focus on which player was Ryan. She mentioned the visit and Ryan let her think she had gone to the wrong game. After that he only hoped his family would not show up at the games. And they never did.
Now here he was, 16, and he had his own personal cheering section, people who sat in that stands acting silly and cheering for him. People's stares did not faze them; Ryan's little embarrassed head shake was enough to keep them going. They were right he did kinda like it. Sometimes for just a moment Ryan would let himself forget they were not always his family.