Double Fake (3 page)

“It’s our first soccer season,” Calvin said.

“Great. The team’s looking good, I hope?”

“
Real
good,” Calvin said. Then he leaned his head to one side and thought for a second. “We
will
be, anyway. Still got a lot to learn.”

“Learn quick,” Ernie said, winking. “Wins are good for business.”

“We’ll try,” Zero said, nodding solemnly.

“I’m just kidding.” Ernie wiped the counter with a cloth. “Have fun and learn the game. There’s no better game on earth.”

“It’s a deal,” Calvin said.

“I only ask one thing,” Ernie said, breaking into a grin. “Don’t lose to Luigi’s. That’s my cousin’s place. We’ll have a dinner wagered on that game, believe me.”

C
oach Diaz carried a box of orange T-shirts across the rec field. He tossed Calvin a shirt with the YMCA logo and LITTLE ITALY in blue block letters. Calvin scrambled out of his tank top and pulled the new shirt over his head. Number 9.

“First game,” Coach Diaz said, gathering the team around him. “Two twenty-four minute halves. We’ll keep it simple.” He held up a clipboard with a diagram of a soccer field drawn on it. “Let’s go over the positions again.”

“Two wings,” he said, circling the LW and RW he’d written on the diagram. “Front line, left and right. You’re mostly on offense, but in a seven-on-seven game like this one, you’ll need to hustle back on defense, too. Everybody needs to float—don’t be a mile away from the ball. But don’t crowd up, either. That’s what kills an offense.”

Coach circled the letter C between the wings. “The center forward. Key guy. Get in position to score.”

Calvin could already feel his T-shirt sticking to his back. It was early evening, but the weather remained hot and humid. It hadn’t rained in weeks.

Coach pointed to the two MIDs he had written below the front line. “Midfielders. Support the offense; remember that triangle pattern we tried. And work your butts off on defense. Keep the ball away from our goal.

“Sweeper. You play behind the midfielders but work
with
them.

“Goalie. Stop the shots. When you have the ball, get it up the field to a teammate. Any questions?”

Calvin put up his hand. “What positions are we playing?”

“I’ll get to that. One rule. One major, essential, critical rule: Pass the ball.
Pass
it. Then move into position for a return pass. That’s how you move the soccer ball. Dribble if you have space, but don’t ever just put your head down and chase it.”

Coach looked at his watch. “We’ve got ten minutes. Grab a ball and dribble two laps around the field, then get back here and I’ll give you your positions. Let’s hustle.”

Calvin picked a ball out of the large mesh bag and dropped it at his feet. Several of his teammates were already dribbling along the sideline, but Calvin was the fastest player on the team. He zipped around the corner flag and behind the goal, working the ball with both feet and keeping it as close as he could. It got away from him as he dribbled around the corner, but he recovered it and sprinted up the sideline, passing Orlando, a taller black kid who was fast, but was struggling with the ball. Calvin smiled when he saw the number 0 on the back of the only player still running ahead of him.

“Save some energy,” Zero said as Calvin flew past.

“I got plenty,” Calvin replied.

The Grotto players were outfitted in dark blue T-shirts. They were in pairs or groups of three, passing the balls back and forth near the middle of the field. It looked as if they had some good players. Calvin still wasn’t sure about his own team. Little Italy had a lot of eleven-year-olds, and a few of them weren’t very athletic.

Coach put Calvin at sweeper for the first half, with Zero at goalie.

“We may get shell-shocked back here,” Calvin said softly as they jogged onto the field. He was looking toward Little Italy’s front line—Victor Alvarez, Peter Leung, and Briana Torres. None of the three was taller than five feet.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Zero said. “Look—keep it close this half, then we’ll pound ’em later when we move up on offense.”

Calvin’s concerns proved to be valid. The Little Italy front-line players seemed confused and hurried, swiping at the ball as soon as it came by, booting it up the field but rarely toward a teammate.

The Grotto had some quick players who put the pressure on and kept it up. Calvin twice cleared the ball away from the front of the goal, and Zero made a couple of saves. But the Grotto’s tall, red-haired striker eventually took a nice centering pass from the wing, gave a fake and dribbled around Orlando, then fired the ball into the net as Zero dove in vain.

Coach Diaz called the players over before they lined up for the kickoff.

“We have to establish some offense,” he said. “We can’t just kick it hard every time the ball comes to us. Make some good
short
passes—just try to get into the rhythm of the game. You can pass
backwards,
you know.

“Midfielders, call for the ball. That’s what I mean by support—let them know where you are. You guys aren’t talking at all.”

Coach gave a big smile as he sent them onto the field. “I like the effort,” he said. “But let’s use our brains, too.”

Peter took the kickoff and made a short pass toward Briana, who trapped the ball, pivoted, and passed back to midfielder Angel Medina. Angel was short and wiry, with olive skin and close-cropped hair. He dribbled a few steps, then made another short pass, this one about ten yards across the field to Mary.

“Support!” yelled Calvin, who had moved up the field. Mary made a nice grass-cutting pass back to him, and Calvin fielded it and surveyed the situation.

Victor, Mary, and Peter were clumped up about ten yards in front of Calvin. “Spread out!” he said firmly, darting to his right. He had room to dribble, but a couple of Grotto players were closing in.

Calvin saw Angel ahead of him near the sideline and made a crisp pass in his direction. Angel moved toward the ball and trapped it, then put on a burst of speed. Coach Diaz clapped his hands as Angel ran by. “That’s the way,” he called. “Short passes to move the ball!”

Little Italy didn’t come close to scoring the rest of the half, but the competition seemed much more balanced. The Grotto made a couple of runs at the goal, but the defense closed ranks, and Zero made two more saves. At halftime, the score was still only 1-0.

“Much better,” Coach said as the players sucked on orange slices and swigged water near the wooden bench. “Keep passing. Keep hustling. We’ll put more speed up front this half.”

Zero moved up to wing and Calvin to midfield. Coach grabbed the sleeve of Calvin’s T-shirt and took him aside as the others ran onto the field. “Be aggressive,” he said. “You’ve got the speed to play the whole field. You need to take control of the game.”

Calvin nodded. He appreciated the implication that he could play a less rigid game.

Little Italy came out smoking in the second half. With Julie Carrasco, Zero, and Orlando up front and Calvin controlling the midfield, most of the early action was in the Grotto’s defensive end.

The ball went out of bounds near the corner, and Orlando scooped it up for a throw-in. His throw reached Zero’s feet, and Zero had room to dribble toward the goal. As the defense closed in, Zero chipped the ball into the air toward the goal box. Calvin got there first, caught the ball softly on his thigh, and let it drop. He had a clear shot at the net, but the goalie was darting over to that side.

Calvin feinted to his right, then passed the ball across the field, parallel to the goal line and zipping across the grass. Julie was there and the net was wide open. She pounded it home. The game was tied!

Calvin raised his fist and punched at the air, shouting, “Yeah!”

Julie ran over and Calvin caught her in a bear hug. Zero patted her shoulder and they ran toward the center of the field.

Calvin looked toward the sideline. Coach tapped the side of his head. “Smart play!” he shouted.

Past the coach and behind the bench, Calvin caught sight of the Rosado sisters, decked out in their black team T-shirts and passing a ball around. Calvin knew they had the second game of the evening, against Hudson City Florist.

“Let’s get another one!” Zero said, dropping back a bit for the kickoff. About seven minutes remained in the game. Plenty of time.

Calvin heard a low rumble of thunder in the distance, but the sky was mostly clear. He was sweating heavily, but his energy level was high. He wanted to win this one badly.

The ball came to him a few moments later, and he angled upfield toward the sideline. He approached the center line but suddenly he was trapped—two defenders in front of him and one at his side, directly between him and Angel.

Peter Leung was playing sweeper, but he was way back near the goal. Calvin sent a long pass toward him, but he didn’t get much pace on the ball. Bad move.

A Grotto player raced toward the ball and got there well ahead of Peter, who was cutting over as quickly as he could. That left the middle of the field open, and that red-haired Grotto player was streaking in by himself. The ball had been passed ahead of him and he was chasing it.

Calvin sprinted down the field and shouted to Peter. “Take the middle! I’ve got your back.”

The redhead had the ball now and there was open space between him and the goal. Mary Pineda, short but limber, was crouched in front of the Little Italy net. She hadn’t been tested in the entire second half.

Peter raced toward the ball and offered just enough resistance to take away a pure, dead-on shot. So when the shot came, it was from a slight angle, a low line drive that streaked toward the corner of the net. Mary lunged and got a hand on it. The ball popped into the air but continued toward the goal.

Calvin had reached the goal box and threw himself toward the ball. He nudged it with his forehead and it squirted out of the box, bouncing on the grass and rolling toward the corner.

A Grotto player chased it down and chipped it back toward the goal. Calvin intercepted it and looked up the field. Orange and blue shirts were everywhere.

The Grotto players had come close to scoring, but they’d also made a key mistake. Every blue shirt except the goalie and one defender was on this end of the field. Calvin booted the ball toward Angel near the sideline, then went full speed up the field. Angel had lots of room and dribbled past Coach Diaz, across the center line, and well into the Grotto side. He passed to Zero, who passed to Orlando, who passed over to Calvin at the top of the penalty area.

It was just Calvin and the goalie now, and Calvin was up to the task. He dribbled straight into the goal box, made a quick feint to his left, then drove the ball hard into the net. Little Italy had the lead.

“Defense now!” Calvin shouted as he ran back into position.

Little Italy tightened its zone, hustled for every loose ball, and held its ground. When the final whistle blew, Calvin dropped to his knees and raised his fists.

“You’re the man!” shouted Zero, putting his hands on Calvin’s shoulders and squeezing.

Calvin was exhausted but thrilled. He yanked off his T-shirt and wiped his face and shoulders, then walked proudly off the field.

Jessie Rosado jogged by closely as Calvin walked off. “Pretty good,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” said Calvin, turning to look. Jessie kept jogging. And Calvin walked right into her sister Danielle.

Danielle stumbled backward but smiled. “Yuck,” she said, wiping her hands on her shirt. “Is that sweat?”

“What do you think?” Calvin said, grinning. “I been running for forty-eight minutes.”

“You ran good,” she said. “But watch us now. You’ll learn something.”

Coach Diaz called the team over. “Great win. Smart and tough. We’ll only get better.”

Zero punched Calvin’s arm. “What now?” he said.

Calvin shrugged. “I need about a gallon of fluid. Let’s get something and come back.”

“For what?”

“To watch the second game,” Calvin said. “Check out the competition.” He squinted and looked at the field, where the Bauer Electric players were warming up. “Let’s see how good those twins really are. See what makes them tick.”

T
he Rosado twins were excellent players. They scored two goals apiece and totally controlled the game as Bauer Electric put up a dominating 5-0 victory.

Zero and Calvin sat on the grass with quart bottles of Gatorade. The sky grew darker and there was occasional thunder, but things stayed dry during the game. A cooling breeze blew during the second half. Calvin lay back and looked at the clouds rolling in.

“I’m starving,” Zero said as the game ended. “I still think we might get free pizza if we wear our jerseys into Little Italy.”