Maverick Mania by Sigmund Brouwer

Author:Sigmund Brouwer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV000000
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2008-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

chapter fourteen

Because so few points are scored in soccer, just one goal can make a tremendous difference in the game’s outcome.

That afternoon, we needed just one goal against the Sylvan High Eagles. The score was 1–1, and only ten minutes remained in the game. The Eagles’ defense was as tight as ours. Whoever scored next would probably win.

Trouble was, they played zone defense so well that one of their yellow jerseys always seemed to move into place to block our passes.

This late in the game—and knowing we had to win this game to keep our tournament chances alive—it seemed smart to take a few risks.

If I could somehow beat one or two of their guys, the field would open up and crack their zone defense.

I waited for the ball to come back to me. The morning’s light showers had passed over the valley, and now sunshine in a clear sky dried the sweat on my face. Although I was concentrating on the game, I was aware of the crowd’s cheering. Sometimes it goes like that. When you concentrate hard on one thing, all your other senses become more keen too.

I watched my teammates upfield, trying to store their positions in my memory. When Johnnie ran into a defensive wall and had to pass back to me, I was ready.

I hung on to the ball instead of passing it off quickly as I had done all game. I moved up the field and a yellow jersey cut into my line of vision.

I had to decide quickly: Was this real pressure or panic pressure?

Sometimes players see attackers and panic makes them react too soon. It’s only real pressure when the attacker is close enough to contact the ball; he can only do that by standing on one leg and swinging with the other. In other words, it’s only real pressure when the player is a step away. Not three steps, like you might think under panic.

The yellow jersey moved in closer. I took my eyes off the field ahead and looked at him. A tall guy, with a dark crew cut. Three steps away.

Not real pressure. Not yet.

I moved diagonally up the field. A diagonal cut gives you much better vision than running straight ahead.

The yellow jersey moved to within two steps.

Almost real pressure. But I didn’t panic. Instead, I slowed a fraction.

I took a last-minute look to see if passing was a better option. It wasn’t. Their zone defense was still in place.

As the tall crew cut closed in, I did a half dribble as if getting ready to pass long with the instep of my foot. I had already made a couple of bomb passes earlier in the game. It would look like I was about to try another.

From the soft half dribble, the ball was set up for a long kick. I drew my foot back.

The fake worked.

Crew Cut threw his body to the right to block the pass. In the split second while he was wrong-footed, and as my kicking foot came down, I pointed my toes downward.

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