Read Online A Writer's Life by Gay Talese - Free Book Online

University of Massachusetts. Beginning in 1994, she would achieve whatever distinction went with being the one black woman on the otherwise all-white starting lineup of the U.S. national team. She once described herself to a reporter as “the fly in the milk.” In a
New York Times
article that was published a few weeks
after
this game, she recalled that when the third Chinese kicker, the aforementioned Liu Ying, had positioned herself behind the ball, “Her body language didn’t look very positive. It didn’t look like she wanted to take it. I looked up at her and said, ‘This one is mine.’ ”
    The
Times
article also reported that during this crucial moment, Briana Scurry had decided to try to limit Liu Ying’s effectiveness by defending against her improperly, moving forward a couple of steps in front of the net even
before
Liu Ying’s foot had touched the ball, reducing the angle of the kick. This was a goalkeeper’s ploy that Briana Scurry and other teams’ goalies occasionally resorted to, hoping it would offset some of the disadvantage of being on the receiving end of what goalkeepers often compare to Russian roulette. Sometimes the referee’s whistle signaled a goalkeeper’s unauthorized movement, allowing the shooter a second chance if the ball had not gone into the net. At other times the referees failed to see, or were too uncertain to confidently call, an infraction; it was frequently very difficult to determine if a goalkeeper
had
stepped forward a split second before the kicker’s toe had touched the ball. With regard to Briana Scurry in the Rose Bowl, it appeared to some reporters and other onlookers that she had moved forward ahead of time against the
first
Chinese penalty kicker, number 5, but there had been no whistle—and number 5 had made her shot anyway.
    But China’s third kicker, Liu Ying, was less fortunate. Her shot was not well hit. Her footwork seemed to be tentative during her approach. Perhaps she was distracted by Scurry’s movement, if the latter
had
moved too early. There had not been a whistle. Still, Scurry instinctively sensed or rightly guessed that the ball would be coming to her left side, and as it sailed off Liu Ying’s right foot, Scurry was already leaping toward it, heroutstretched body surging through the air parallel to the ground with both of her arms fully extended and the fingers of her gloved hands elongated and rigid until being bent back by the force of the ball, which was nevertheless deflected and sent bouncing inconsequentially toward the sidelines.
    As Scurry fell heavily to the turf—she said later that as she lay in pain she feared she’d chipped a hipbone and mangled a stomach muscle—she was immediately revived by the applause that surrounded her and the sight of far-flung confetti and the enthusiasm of her teammates jumping and hugging one another near the bench. Scurry leaped to her feet and pumped her arms several times while the captain of the U.S. team raised her own index finger above her high-browed forehead, signaling perhaps that the Americans were now alone at the top.
    If this was the captain’s intention, it was a premature gesture. The game was not over. It was true, however, that if all the remaining shooters (the three Americans and the two Chinese) were successful, the final tally would favor the Americans, 5-4, and the World Cup trophy would become the property of the United States.
    Ultimately, this is what happened. China’s last two kickers—number 7 and number 9—both aimed accurately beyond Scurry’s reach, the first player shooting to the right, the second to the left. But the trio of Americans—which included Mia Hamm, who shot fourth—were also flawless. The American who made the fifth and decisive kick was number 6, Brandi Chastain, a ponytailed blond Californian with a suntanned and gracefully delineated muscular figure