Chapter Two: The First Shot
Wednesday had come and Numair was standing by the benches, ignoring the gaggle of girls congregated around him. They had all closely inquired about his hair, which was now cropped short, much shorter than the previous shoulder-length cut that had cocooned his head. He now sported a slightly-messy mop, he called it. Apparently the girls adored it, though. He awaited a certain someone: his star player, number one goalie, Daine. Then, he saw her. Or rather, her car. He watched as she stepped out, traveled to the trunk to remove her gear, and then take a moment to pin her beautiful, lush curls atop her head. No, he thought. I cannot prey upon her like that. I'm her coach and she's my student! Get these thoughts out of your head, Numair. He peeled his eyes off the approaching figure and switched his attention to his players.
"Coach Chamtong cannot make it, today or for the rest of the summer season. Unfortunately she has some business to attend to with her camp." Daine was now here to hear this. Onua Chamtong, one of Jon and Thayet's dear friends, ran a horse camp. She had no idea of what kind of 'business' Numair meant, but she was sure she'd find out. "For now, I am your only coach. There will be a replacement for Onua by the second week of training. I will be watching today during practice to influence my judgment on team captain. Stretch out and take a lap. Daine will then lead you in an Indian run." He looked at Daine, who snapped her eyes from his hair to his face. He tried very hard not to let his satisfaction show; it looked as if Daine liked his hair.
The girls immediately gathered in a circle and stretched. The stretches consisted of leg lunges, thigh pulls, toe-touches, etc. After their muscles were all very loose a lap around the field loosened them more. Nearing the starting point of the first lap, Daine pulled up to the front and everyone gradually lined up behind her. Like a beating of a drum, Daine fell into a pace. At her signal, Becca raced up from the back of the line. The returning players knew the tempo of the run well; the two new members found that they wished desperately for water.
At the end of the run the players were panting a bit, and two of them were flat out on their backs, greedily sucking air into their deprived lungs.
"Rachel, Emille, take a break," ordered Numair. "The rest of you, line it up for sprints." The team knew better than to groan. Any unappreciated sound heard by the coach's ever-mindful ears earned them an addition of five twenty-yard sprints.
Looking left, Daine counted off her teammates: Taylor, the left wing, had red hair. Becca was the brunette forward, Chelsea the blonde forward. Henna played right wing, Patricia (brunette) played center. Jasminne, who always had the prettiest braids, and dirty-blonde Lauren were Daine's defense. Sweeper was taken by the other red-head, Yaya. Sarah played goalie and defense, but rarely got a chance in goal. Alexandra played wherever she was needed. Sarah and Alex didn't often start, but were put in by the second half. Rachel and Emille, to be UGA freshmen in the fall, were occupying bench-space as they guzzled water.
The rest of the two hours was spent on only fundamentals. Even though Daine had run every night around Silver Birch, she felt her body complaining. She wasn't the only one; but it seemed Rachel and Emille took the hardest hit. They dragged themselves so slowly back to the parking lot that Daine had to feel sorry for them. Tomorrow, Numair had promised, they might touch a ball. By this, the team knew, he meant elbow-to-knees, jogging in place while tapping the top of the ball with your foot, kind of 'touching'.
Numair surprised Daine the next afternoon. At his feet a dozen balls were confined in nets and a stack of orange cones lay nearby. Her face brightened, knowing that with soccer balls just there, Numair wouldn't be able to hold the girls off for long. "Take a lap," was Numair's only greeting. They did so, even as others arrived. "Taylor, Patricia, Chelsea, you owe me an extra lap. It may only be the second practice, but I will not accept tardiness." Numair's face was set. Daine thanked the stars that she had arrived on time, even if she rushed and sped, just a little. The team stood and waited for the three late members to finish a second lap after they had finished their first.
"All right, pair up. Each pair takes one ball only. You are going to lie in sit-up position. As you are half way up, toss the ball to your partner. Your partner will then sit up, as you drop, and toss the ball to you. Do twenty. Got it?" Numair asked. The girls murmured their recognition. It sounded a great deal easier than it actually was. Daine's stomach burned as she completed her seventeenth sit-up, thrusting the UGA-stamped ball to Becca. Three more, she told herself. Only three. Finally, with a sigh of relief, Daine rested her screaming abs. She didn't get to rest for long; Numair saw that everyone was finished and got onto the next torture: sprints.
"Ten thirty-yard sprints, eight forty-yard sprints, and five fifty-yard sprints. Also, I want another lap." He positioned four cones as the girls lined up. "Full speed," he added. Sweat glistened on everyone's foreheads, catching the intense Georgian rays. Numair stood at the far end. Raising his arm, he dropped it. Daine pushed fiercely against the green turf with her right leg. She crossed the thirty-yard boundary and lined up again for another go.
"Take a break," Numair told the fatigued girls. Gratefully they absorbed as much water as possible, knowing that Numair's breaks were far and few. The brutal training won them games, however. No matter how crummy they could feel now, a winning game always more than reimbursed that. Daine kept this in mind every time she felt compelled to gripe. Besides, complaints were not flattering.
The next day was very much like the last, whipping their athletic bodies into unbelievably fit forms. Finally, on the fourth day, they took out the soccer balls for real business. The girls cheered and ran to get either a school ball or their own. Daine brought her own from its confines within her bag.
"Dribble about these cones and then get to the back of the line. I know it's elementary, but you'd be surprised with the improvement. I will stop you when I feel you have performed to the best of your ability." Chelsea led the queue before the orange funnels. Daine, fourth in line, dribbled to the left, right, left, until she completed the course. She managed to make it through three times before Numair stopped them. All in all, they hadn't done terribly. A few lost control, as expected, but not ridiculously. Daine even chased her ball.
Numair informed them that they were going to run for the rest of practice. Daine could not take it anymore and spoke up. Yet before she could, Jasmine interrupted her."Coach! Come on, let's take some shots. I, for one, need to get some boot in. We haven't done anything but fundamentals!" Jasmine expressed fundamentals with a disapproving tone. There was an agreeing murmur that made itself out of each of their mouths. For a moment Daine was afraid that Numair was going to refuse and give them more sprints, leaving her appalled when he didn't.
After consideration, Numair opened his mouth. "Fine," he sighed. "Daine, get your gloves. Everyone else line up at the box." Many of them looked surprised, like Daine, but then they just followed orders before he changed his mind. Fishing her goalie gloves out of a compartment in her bag, Daine strapped them on and took her place in the goal. Chelsea, Becca, and Henna were the first three to go. Daine relaxed her knees and had her hands up. Chelsea placed her ball in the favorable spot and took two steps back. She stepped and kicked, sending the ball flying towards the right corner. Daine's reaction was natural to her; she lunged and dove for the ball, grasping it between her palms. Chelsea looked a bit disappointed that her shot hadn't made it, but complemented Daine's save nevertheless. Smiling and in the groove, Daine returned the forward's ball and settled herself back in place. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Numair watching and couldn't help beaming when she saved the next ball. Patricia's shot, however, slipped past her and fixed in the net.
When it was time to retire, Daine had only let in four goals. She was happy enough, but four goals were not acceptable to her when it came to the game. Also, Daine had high hopes for getting team captain this summer. She vowed to work extra hard. Sure, she had let in a few goals, but, for the first shot, it wasn't bad.