A Message They'll Never Forget

Have you ever wondered why things can be perfectly normal one day, then the next day everything just falls apart suddenly? Me too.

I’m Ria Klein, a striker for the Eastfield College Women’s Soccer Team, and yesterday was truly, truly awful. It started in the fifth minute of the first half, when one mistake led to another which led to a goal. One goal turned into two, which turned into four before we even knew what was happening. As the new captain I tried my best to settle things, but by the time we’d finally gotten everything together, the game was well and truly over.

To make matters worse, I had to face Liam Dean afterwards, who had been my favorite reporter over the last two years.

Why Liam you ask? Sure he has a pretty big ego and a reputation for being a little harsh on players, but he has always been a hard worker. His questions show a level of preparation that many don’t bother to pursue, and is a nice change of pace from the usuals like, “How did your win today feel?” “Did you learn anything new from today’s performance?” Or my personal least favorite, “What was going through your mind when you scored?”

Anyways, I’d always enjoyed when he attended interviews, and even occasionally read some of his work when he posted, (although it’s generally better to ignore all the noise as an athlete). So when I saw him there yesterday, and heard his question, I was more embarrassed and ashamed than anything.

A little harsh? Yes. But when it came to analyzing and understanding the sports he reported on, he was always the best. For that reason, I tend to respect what he says a lot, appreciating the praise he’d given me in the past, and yesterday, taking his comment to heart. Unfortunately for my heart, that happened to be just about the last thing it could take that night.

I apologized when I happened to run into him in the parking lot, but I was still worried all day today that he would stop reporting on our games because I couldn’t even answer his question in the moment.

All I could remember as I fell asleep yesterday was his silhouette in front of the moon, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. Despite his difficult expression and the fact that he didn’t say much, it was somehow the best point of my whole day, which really says a lot.

Now, given everything I just explained, you can imagine how shocked I was to see Liam sat at the very back of the bleachers when our team emerged onto the field today for some light practice.

It was unprecedented to see him at a mere practice, especially a session the day after a game, one usually meant for recovery, and not lasting all that long.

“Look alive Ria.” My teammate and best friend Tea said as she passed me on the way out to the field. Tea was short for Teresa, but everyone has called her Tea for as long as I can remember. As she saw Liam out in the stands she stopped just as suddenly as I had.

“That’s weird.” She muttered while checking her phone, which you usually don’t bring out during training, but Tea isn’t often known for doing what’s ‘usual’.

“Did he interview you yesterday? He didn’t post anything.”

I glanced over at her phone, surprised to find that there was nothing new since last week’s exclusive on the men’s basketball team.

I tried not to think about it and made sure to focus on my training, after all we couldn’t afford another display like yesterday, ever.

As we were finishing up for the day, I couldn’t help but follow my thoughts as they trailed off, wondering why he hadn’t posted anything. Whenever he’d done interviews with me in the past, he would always post his article within a few hours. Although I’d planned on avoiding this edition anyways, since I wanted to forget about yesterday as quickly as possible. It still bothered me a little that nothing had gone up, and now he was suddenly here watching us.

I glanced back over to where he was before, surprised to still see him there. An hour and a half had passed, and there were multiple games being played by Eastfield teams elsewhere on campus. Yet he sat there in the freezing cold weather, seemingly nothing better to do.

“Do you want me to chase him out?” asked coach Davis, our head coach who had a reputation for noticing any and everything when it came to our practice.

Taking it easy? She saw it. Not drinking enough water? She’ll bring you some. Watching a journalist who appeared to be a key factor in your emotional state the day before? She’ll chase him all the way off campus grounds.

“No, no, please don’t.” I found myself saying before I could gather my thoughts. I didn’t mean to appear so desperate, but if Liam had been here for so long, I’m sure it was important to him. And if it’s important to him and his work, I wouldn’t want to get in the way.

She nodded and walked off to stop Tea from showing photos of her aunt’s friend’s sister’s new puppy, which was currently distracting all three of our goalkeepers and our goalkeeping coach from their last drill.

As the team gradually finished up, I did my part as captain and brought everyone around, giving a quick speech about how we should take our last game to heart and use it as fuel for the rest of our season.

“And when we face that team in the playoffs, we’ll beat them 8-0 to remind them who the best is.” I said, finishing my speech on an emphatic last note to the echoes of agreement from my teammates before everyone separated and left for the day.

I waited for the others to go back to the locker room, before looking one last time towards the bleachers. He was still there. And suddenly he was getting closer, even though he didn’t appear to be moving.

It took me a few seconds to realize that I was the one who was moving, running over to him before I had even thought about it. As soon as I’d noticed what I was doing, I knew it was too late to turn back. So I set myself and stood up straighter as I arrived at the base of the stands, looking up at him as he climbed down towards me.

“Why’re you here?” I asked, instantly upset at myself for sounding so standoffish.

“I-I’m not entirely sure, in all honesty.” He responded, his hands fidgeting with his notebook, a constant with him at all times. I’d never once seen him without it.

Maybe trying to offset my hostile attitude, or maybe just being a little tired and unreserved from the long, exhausting days lately, I slid over to him, standing next to his shoulder, and peeked at his notebook, which he surprisingly just handed to me.

I skimmed through pages and pages of notes. Interview questions, snippets of answers, and quick jots summarizing key points of games filled every inch of every page that I saw.

Towards the end of the notebook, on the most recently filled page I saw notes from today’s practice, comments about coach Davis' constant efforts, Tea’s distractions, and a positive team atmosphere.

At the very bottom, underlined was the note, “Wonder what the speech was, team seems inspired, complete 180 from yesterday.”

I debated flipping over the page to view yesterday’s notes, but decided not to for the same reason I didn’t want to read this morning’s article, which reminded me.

“Why didn’t you post anything last night?”

He seemed surprised at the question as we sat down, a new and not entirely unwelcome casual atmosphere appeared in the space between us.

“I’m not sure, I wrote it and everything, but-” his voice trailed off as he waved his hand to the space around us, seemingly as unsure of why as he was.

I nodded and sat in silence for a few precious seconds, happy he was here, one of my many worries vanishing before me.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what did you say to the team at the end?” He wondered, opening his notebook and pulling out a simple ballpoint pen, a surprisingly modest choice considering how I knew him to be. I’d expected a grand pen, expensive and stylish.

“I said we’d beat them 8-0 in the playoffs. We’ll send a message that they’ll never forget.”

The final image I saw before I left was him jotting down the quote in his notebook, and a bright warm smile illuminating the cold, dark night.