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Authors: Matt Christopher
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right behind it, racing to take possession. He ran the length of the field, bearing down on the goalie.
Only one defender stood in his way. Renny froze him with a fake to the left, then went around his right side, unimpeded. He kicked the ball straight up to the height of his head, then made as if to head the ball into the goal. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the goalie commit himself to the left — so when the ball hit the ground in front of his foot, Renny kicked it to the right side of the net.
The stunned goalie never had a chance. Renny could hear the roar of approval, and it was coming from both sides of the field. As he trotted back toward the center line, he gave a little wave of acknowledgment. They were cheering for
him!
His anger drained right out of him, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction. Bryce had betrayed him, but he'd also been Renny's inspiration. And now Renny was getting his revenge, in the best possible way.
14
A t first; when Renny had accused him, Bryce felt guilty. When Renny had scored his first goal, Bryce figured it was only right, considering. Even the pointing didn't bother him — much. But when Renny had shown him up like that, stealing the ball from him and going all the way with it, Bryce had had enough.
The score was 3-0 already. But there was still another half to play. “We just have to be patient,” Bryce told his teammates, “and wait for our opportunities. Follow me into their zone. I'll try to create something.”
When the second half began, Bryce went out to the center circle expecting to see Renny facing him down. But Renny was not there — it was John Singleman instead. So where was Renny?
Bryce looked around for him. There he was, with the midfielders. What was going on? he wondered.
Bryce soon found out. Apparently, Renny had convinced his coach that with a three-goal lead, he should be put in as a midfielder to shadow Bryce wherever he went. For the first ten minutes of the half, every time the ball came to Bryce, Renny was there, harassing him, denying him possession or a clear lane. The only thing Bryce could do was to pass the ball away under the ferocious pressure.
Bryce could see that if this kept up, the game would end with the score just as it was. I've got to break out of this! he told himself.
He knew that if he succeeded in getting deep into the Hornets' zone, Renny would have to abandon position to follow him. That would leave one of the Yellow Jackets' midfielders unguarded.
Bryce took the ball and forced it forward, trying to run around Renny. But Renny, with his speed, kept cutting Bryce off. Finally, Bryce had had enough. He gave Renny a sharp shove with his forearm, creating some elbowroom between them.
The way to the Hornets' zone was open. But before Bryce could take advantage of the opportunity, the ref's whistle blew, and he pointed to Bryce, indicating a foul.
“What?!” Bryce leaped into the air in sheer frustration. “He was all over me, ref!”
The ref just shook his head. “Flagrant personal foul!” he said. “Free kick, Blue!”
“Nooooo!” Bryce yelled, banging his knees in frustration.
Eric Dornquist tapped him on the shoulder, “You're out, Bryce,” he said. “I'm in for you.”
Bryce looked up, then over at the sideline. Coach Hickey was motioning him off the field! Bryce couldn't believe it.
He walked slowly toward the sideline. “Come on, come on!” the coach urged him. “Hustle, Bryce! What's the matter with you?”
“He set me up for that foul, Coach,” Bryce complained.
“And you fell for it,” Coach Hickey replied, shaking his head. “If you'd stop hogging the ball for once and get your teammates into the flow, this stuff wouldn't happen.”
They both turned their attention to the field, where Renny's free kick had turned into another goal, this time scored by Henry Wilkes. “Four-zip,” the coach said sadly. “I can't believe this!”
Neither could Bryce. The first game was shaping up
Only one defender stood in his way. Renny froze him with a fake to the left, then went around his right side, unimpeded. He kicked the ball straight up to the height of his head, then made as if to head the ball into the goal. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the goalie commit himself to the left — so when the ball hit the ground in front of his foot, Renny kicked it to the right side of the net.
The stunned goalie never had a chance. Renny could hear the roar of approval, and it was coming from both sides of the field. As he trotted back toward the center line, he gave a little wave of acknowledgment. They were cheering for
him!
His anger drained right out of him, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction. Bryce had betrayed him, but he'd also been Renny's inspiration. And now Renny was getting his revenge, in the best possible way.
14
A t first; when Renny had accused him, Bryce felt guilty. When Renny had scored his first goal, Bryce figured it was only right, considering. Even the pointing didn't bother him — much. But when Renny had shown him up like that, stealing the ball from him and going all the way with it, Bryce had had enough.
The score was 3-0 already. But there was still another half to play. “We just have to be patient,” Bryce told his teammates, “and wait for our opportunities. Follow me into their zone. I'll try to create something.”
When the second half began, Bryce went out to the center circle expecting to see Renny facing him down. But Renny was not there — it was John Singleman instead. So where was Renny?
Bryce looked around for him. There he was, with the midfielders. What was going on? he wondered.
Bryce soon found out. Apparently, Renny had convinced his coach that with a three-goal lead, he should be put in as a midfielder to shadow Bryce wherever he went. For the first ten minutes of the half, every time the ball came to Bryce, Renny was there, harassing him, denying him possession or a clear lane. The only thing Bryce could do was to pass the ball away under the ferocious pressure.
Bryce could see that if this kept up, the game would end with the score just as it was. I've got to break out of this! he told himself.
He knew that if he succeeded in getting deep into the Hornets' zone, Renny would have to abandon position to follow him. That would leave one of the Yellow Jackets' midfielders unguarded.
Bryce took the ball and forced it forward, trying to run around Renny. But Renny, with his speed, kept cutting Bryce off. Finally, Bryce had had enough. He gave Renny a sharp shove with his forearm, creating some elbowroom between them.
The way to the Hornets' zone was open. But before Bryce could take advantage of the opportunity, the ref's whistle blew, and he pointed to Bryce, indicating a foul.
“What?!” Bryce leaped into the air in sheer frustration. “He was all over me, ref!”
The ref just shook his head. “Flagrant personal foul!” he said. “Free kick, Blue!”
“Nooooo!” Bryce yelled, banging his knees in frustration.
Eric Dornquist tapped him on the shoulder, “You're out, Bryce,” he said. “I'm in for you.”
Bryce looked up, then over at the sideline. Coach Hickey was motioning him off the field! Bryce couldn't believe it.
He walked slowly toward the sideline. “Come on, come on!” the coach urged him. “Hustle, Bryce! What's the matter with you?”
“He set me up for that foul, Coach,” Bryce complained.
“And you fell for it,” Coach Hickey replied, shaking his head. “If you'd stop hogging the ball for once and get your teammates into the flow, this stuff wouldn't happen.”
They both turned their attention to the field, where Renny's free kick had turned into another goal, this time scored by Henry Wilkes. “Four-zip,” the coach said sadly. “I can't believe this!”
Neither could Bryce. The first game was shaping up
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