1.4 - The Weakest Link (Patreon)

4.

The second half started and things went great. The reshaped team looked solid as a rock. City passed, passed, passed. Sideways, sideways, back. Side, side, back. When they did try to burst forward, Beth would knock the ball out, or Nobby would delay the attacker long enough for one of the midfield terriers to get back and support. And City would reset, and let us get our breath back.

Every tackle, every block, every interception was treated like a goal, and the belief of the team was solidifying. This, I thought, was probably the first time they'd all been in the right positions. They could feel its rightness!

Five minutes passed and my pulse was sky high. City's coach was growing more frustrated on her touchline. She gave instructions to a batch of kids and did a big swap - 4 replacing 4. The new lot lined up with 2 at the back - the only logical number, really - but they hugged the sidelines as though one was a left-back and the other a right-back. Lula stayed in the centre, unmarked - she'd be one-on-one with the goalie if we ever got the chance to pass to her. City's coach had balls, that was for sure. I kept an eye on this tactic because it didn't feel right. It had the vibe of another trap. Sure enough, I noticed that one of the defenders would sprint down the line trying to cause an overload. I told Lula to drop into the space the overloader left. There was one big ricochet and the ball blooped into the air, almost exactly to where Lula was. If she could control it, she'd be through on goal! But the loop was too slow and City got back to cover. Moving her out there had been the right move, though, because after another mass substitution, City reverted to having two central defenders.

The clock kept ticking. Ten minutes gone. 15 left. City should have just passed the ball around and taken the win. But I imagined the coach bumping into City’s manager Pep Guardiola and him asking how the team got on last night and her saying 'we won 2-0’ and his fixed smile causing her to experience utter shame. I suppose that's why they keep winning - because they always wanted more. Well, my plan was to use that admirable tendency against them, and in my humble opinion it was working like a charm. The City coaches were getting stressed and the kids were starting to get nervous; starting to make sloppy passes.

During a tiny break in play I called Lula, Sophie, and Freyja over. "Next time they play the ball back to the keeper, you three blitz her. Go from different angles."

"Fucking hell, Max," said Sophie. "You told us not to do that."

"A hundred times," confirmed Freyja.

"And now they don't expect it," I said. They went off and formed a quick huddle - later I learned they were deciding on a word that Freyja would shout to trigger the press.

The match kicked off and City passed it round a bit. One of the midfielders got stuck and turned and lazily dabbed a pass back towards the keeper. Almost before she'd made contact with the ball, Freyja shouted 'Black Friday!' and the three women sprinted at the goalie. Who, naturally, as I would have done, panicked. She had enough presence of mind to clear the ball, but only to Sophia, who played it forward to where we now had 3 attackers versus the keeper. City's defenders raced back, there was a bit of pinball, and after a couple of scuffs and near-misses, the ball dribbled over the line.

The referee blew her whistle and I was convinced she'd disallow the goal for unsportsmanlike conduct; you're really not supposed to recreate Braveheart when playing association football. But she pointed to the centre spot and the scoreboard updated.

2-1.

I didn't cheer. I didn't let my energy leave me; I needed it. I wrapped it around myself like a cloak of fury. City's coach wasn't smirking now. Her players looked terrified. It was such a rush.

My team ran over for quick instructions. "Keep it tight. Let the pressure build."

Beth reached her hand out and the others put theirs on top. I added mine to the pile and all the hands were taken away with a quick cry of "team!"

Wow. Goosebumps.

The next few minutes, the tension kept building. When was the last time anyone had run these City girls close? Their nerves were fraying. One or two of their subs looked legit terrified. It was awesome. We were the underdogs and had nothing to lose. City were supposed to be a superpower. If we scored again it would be humiliating. There were more blocks, we tracked our runners. When CIty played a 1-2 to get in behind, someone was there to cover.

Meanwhile, the next phase of my tactical battle with City's coach arrived. She changed something, but I couldn't work out what it was. The flow of the game was suddenly all one way - City were getting closer and closer to our goal. I couldn't see what had changed, so I couldn't react.

There wasn't much time - City were starting to get shots away. Jane saved two easy daisycutters, but another try smashed against the post, and one missed by so little I thought it must have actually been a goal that passed through a hole in the side of the net.

It was at the kick-off that I saw what was happening - one of City's 3 midfielders was pushing forward to support their striker. That meant Beth and Nobby had two people to worry about. City, meanwhile, were now outnumbered in midfield. It didn't matter to them, though, they still had complete control. If anything, their midfielders were happy to have more space to work in. All I could think to do was to ask Freyja to drop into defence. It shored things up slightly, but it was like putting a plaster on a crack in a dam.

There were 7 minutes left, and I didn't have any tools to change anything. We were clinging on, hoping for a lucky break.

Weirdly, our break came from the City coach. She hadn't made a mistake the whole match. Apart from being a smug cow, she'd taken risks and mostly tried to be proactive. But now she brought on a new player. Everyone in their bloated squad had been on and off the pitch except this one. She was called Carmen and she was barely 14. She had the worst attributes of all the players, and the lowest CA and PA. She really seemed out of place. Literally: her preferred position was striker but she was being used in defence. I couldn't believe my eyes! All we had to do was pressure her and she'd give the ball away. If we did it at the right time we'd get a goal out of it for sure.

"What are you grinning about?" It was Sophia.

I was about to tell her my plan. Put pressure on the 14-year-old until she cracks like an egg! Make omelette out of her mistakes! Then rub her face in it. HahahahahHAHA! I took a mental step back. A bunch of enthusiastic 20-year-olds were playing a bunch of talented 15-year-olds in 7-a-side indoor footy and I was treating it like I was Napoleon marching across Europe! Just because the other coach expressed satisfaction that her coaching had worked out well. Meanwhile my idea of coaching was to crush some little girl who must have known she was the weak link on a good team. What the actual fuck was wrong with me? My bloodlust drained away. Sophia was giving me that look I knew oh so well. "Ah... just thinking of a joke." And that was that. I kept my dark thoughts to myself.

Beth, Nobby, and Freyja proved an effective wall, but once City’s players realised we had stopped trying to score, they swarmed forward, and finally scored a third goal with under a minute left on the clock.

3-1. City seemed happy with that, and the match ended with smiles all round.

I sort of sat there in a daze. Pretty tired, actually. Mentally fatigued, like I'd been playing angry chess. City's coach came up to me. I stood abruptly, ready to apologise.

"Hi," she said, holding out a hand. "I'm Sandra. I haven't seen you before."

"Max," I said, still wary of a telling-off.

"That was fun! You gave us all kinds of problems. Great work-out. The girls will be delighted."

"Will they? They don't look very delighted."

"Fine. I'll be delighted on their behalf!" She laughed. She'd been pretty hard-faced during the game but the game was over, wasn't it? I tried to lighten up, too.

"Those kids are great," I said. "So talented. But why don't you let Sarah dribble?" I'd said a name I shouldn't know again! So stupid! "And that other one. Number 8 there."

"We try to avoid dribbling in these games. It winds people up. Leads to injuries. You've seen us play before, then? That's how you knew how to play against us."

"Oh, right, yeah." Part of me wanted to say that I'd worked it out on my own, wanted to show off, but this was better. I wasn't keen to draw attention to my affliction.

"Bye, Max. See you around. Next time we won't go easy on you!" She laughed again.

Next time? No way. There were other ways to spend a Friday night. With a start I checked my phone. I was missing the Arsenal game! If I ran home I could catch the last half an hour. Beth spotted me. She grabbed my phone and slipped it into her bag. "No way. You're not running off. We have a lot to talk about." She looked around. The whole team had gathered. "Pub," she said.

"Pub," came the reply.

"Wait," I said. I had a little envelope in my vision. I opened it and read my news. I had a new achievement: coaching my first game. That came with 1 XP as a bonus. But I'd gone from having 74 XP at the start of the game to having 165 now. That was... far more than I should have had. The game had only been 50 minutes long! I'd earned double XP... Was it because City's players were so good? Was it because I'd been so invested in the game? The only way to find out was to 'coach' the team again. Next week, the opponents would be the usual garbage. But that was fine. It was more data. More answers. As long as these ladies let me be their 'coach' one more time. I had to make sure that happened.

"Max!" said Beth. How long had I been staring into space?

"Pub," I said, putting my arm round her. "Definitely pub."