8 - Determination
The boys are sitting on the grass. Riccardo has his legs crossed and the ball between his feet.
I set up a rectangle with poles and place the small goals, putting colored cones behind each of them.
“Domenico, Tommaso, Stefano, and Lorenzo, go to the four corners. Gabriele, you're in the middle.”
I hand out a pair of balls to each.
Davide hops in place. “What about us? What do we do?”
“Be patient. You ever played this game before?” I ask the first group.
“Nope, never,” says Tommaso.
“Good, it’s simple. Before passing, Stefano says his name, then the color of the cone.”
Gabriele and Tommaso nod.
“Whoever gets the ball turns toward the one who called them and passes it through the poles of the chosen color. Two touches only, clear? Once you’ve used all the balls, the player at the corner switches to the middle, and vice versa. Complete the rotation.”
From the sideline, Emma snaps her fingers. I’ve never seen her in jeans before.
“Stop drooling, boys—she’s way too old for you.”
I raise my arm. “Five minutes and I’ll be right with you.”
I grab a cone and hand it to Matteo.
“Okay, now you guys. Set up a square with red cones outside the penalty area. On the sides, form two diagonal lines of six cones each: green on the right, red on the left.”
The kids get to work. Leonardo and Davide form the square, Matteo and Alessandro take care of the green cones. Riccardo and Massimo handle the red ones.
“Diego and Edoardo, place a blue cone about thirty-five meters from the goal.” I pause to watch them. “Now, one group near the red square, the other behind the blue cone. Leonardo, you’re Player A—start from the square. Davide, you’re Player B—start at the blue cone. The keeper will call a number and a color for Player A to move toward. Davide, once the call’s made, you lob the ball to Leonardo.” I crouch beside him. “As soon as you get it, control with the outside of your foot, dodge the cone, and shoot with two touches. After the shot, switch spots with Davide. Same goes for Matteo and Alessandro, Riccardo and Massimo, and so on. Got it?”
I walk over to Emma. “Something wrong?”
She looks around and adjusts her purse strap. “Well, I… don’t know how to say it.”
I scratch behind my ear. “Just say it.”
Shouting breaks out. Edoardo pushes Riccardo, making him stumble.
“Excuse me a sec.” I run over. “What’s going on?”
Edoardo jabs a finger at Riccardo’s forehead. “I told him not to—”
Riccardo shoves him away. “It’s his fault, no one can understand him when he talks.”
Edoardo stands his ground. “Not true—he’s just not paying attention.”
“You sound like elementary school kids, not high schoolers. I don’t want to hear any more of this. Play!”
I turn on my heel and go back to Emma.
She’s sitting on the bench, pinching the bridge of her nose, peeling a flake of paint with her nail. “The board approved Mr. Torig’s request for a friendly.”
I step onto the field and grab my towel. I pass by Emma. “Find yourselves another coach.”
She follows until she catches up to me. “Look at them. Look at their faces while they train.” She points. “I’ve never seen them this excited.” She spreads her arms. “And now you’re walking out on them.”
“Oh no, you don’t get to pin this on me.” I kick the bench, the thud echoes. The kids stop practicing. “You made one promise. One. And you broke it.”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I tried everything to stop it—believe me.” Her lemon-scented shampoo hits me.
“They’re not ready. I won’t let them get humiliated like that. I’m sorry.”
I head for the exit, but the whole team blocks my path. Davide clenches his fists. “Don’t leave. We’ll play the match. Just train us—please.”
Alessandro puts his hands together. “Stay with us.”
“There’s no time.”
Tommaso picks up the ball. “We just want to play.”
In the stands, not far off, my son watches us with his chin resting on his hands.
Please note: I'm not a native English speaker. If you spot any mistakes or have suggestions, feel free to email me at p.rubiu@tiscali.it