The Comeback Challenge (6 page)

His opening came in the final seconds of the first half. The Scorpions had defended successfully against four goal attempts.
By now, even the dogged Tigers were playing a little sloppy.

First, Harvey Kahn got into a snarl with a Tiger forward and caused the ball to squirt within Mel Duffy’s reach. Mel trapped
it with the inside of his left foot, then booted it with his right over to Jim Shields. Jim zigged it across the field to
Mark, who was all by himself — not a Tiger in sight.

The Scorpions’ center forward dribbled the ball straight down the field. But within seconds he began to hear the oncoming
thud of defensemen bearing
down on him. When they were practically on top of him, Mark pointed and waved to his left — but with his left foot, he booted
the ball over to Vince on his right. Since all the attention was focused the other way for a split second, Vince had a clear
shot at the goal. He lined up and kicked the ball forward.

Goal!

The Scorpions had practiced that play only once during the previous week. Yet it worked like clock-work. Mark was proud that
he had been able to carry it off. He looked over at Vince to give him a thumbs-up sign, but Vince had already headed back
to the forward line.

“Heckuva play, you guys!” Mark shouted out anyhow. Then he moved into position. At the whistle, he nudged the ball over to
Johnny Mintz. The ball came right back at him, but there wasn’t enough time left in the half to do much more than let the
clock run out.

“Yes!” said Craig, leaping up from the bench as Mark came off the field.

The Scorpions’ center forward chugged a large drink of water. Then he wiped off his forehead and flopped down in front of
the coach — but not before
glancing into the stands. There were his grandparents, smack behind the bench. Just behind them, he saw his father, all smiles,
leaning over and pointing toward the Scorpions. Mark was about to shift his eyes back to the coach when he spotted someone
else he knew.

Off to one side of the stands, huddled up and drinking from a paper coffee cup, was his mother. She was smiling, too, and
talking to a woman seated next to her. The woman had bright red hair, a lot like Craig’s. Mark guessed that it must be his
mother.

Mark’s heart sank. Just what I don’t need, he thought, Mom and Dad at the same game. At least they’re not seated together.
Still, they’re within shouting distance. Oh, gosh, I hope that doesn’t start up! Everyone will know in a minute who they are
and that I’m —

“Mark, are you still with us?” the coach asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Mark realized he hadn’t heard a word that Coach Ryan had been saying.

“Uh, yes, sir,” he mumbled.

The coach looked at him for a long moment, then addressed the team in general. “Okay, then, let’s keep
our cool out there. Just do what you’ve learned in practice. I want to see some heads-up ball.”

As the Scorpions prepared to take to the field for the second half, Mark noticed that Craig was going in as part of the backfield
lineup. He flashed his friend a broad smile.

But that smile faded quickly. From the stands came a sound he had been dreading hearing.

“What do you mean, you’re taking Mark out tonight!” Mr. Conway’s voice sounded angry. “His grandparents and I have planned
a special family dinner together!”

“Well, I’ve already accepted an invitation for Mark and me, to have dinner with Mark’s best friend, Craig, and his mother,”
Mrs. Conway replied venomously. “Do you even know who Craig is?”

Mark couldn’t help but notice the sidelong glances his teammates were giving him. His face turned red, and his stomach burned
as if he had swallowed a hot stone. He quickly ducked his head, pretending to tie his shoelaces.

He felt a tap on the shoulder and whirled around. Craig was standing there, an openly concerned look on his face.

“Hey, listen —” he started to say. But Mark cut him off.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered. “Let’s just go play some soccer, okay?”

The Tigers had possession of the ball at the start of the second half. They moved into Scorpion territory quickly, attempting
a goal within the first two minutes. But Charlie Burns was on his toes. The Scorpions’ goalie sent the ball almost to the
center circle, where Johnny Mintz trapped it. But there were too many Tigers surrounding him, and he immediately passed it
off to Mark. Mark dribbled it across the halfway line and into Tigers territory.

It didn’t take long for an invasion of defenders to close in on him. He passed the ball to Vince. But a Tiger tackler got
to it at the same time, and a struggle for possession began. As another Tiger moved in, Mark did the same. The four players
twined their legs around the ball until it jiggled free.

Vince and Mark were the closest to the ball as it skidded through the grass. The two of them scrambled toward it at the same
speed. But Mark got there just a little ahead of Vince. He thrust his foot forward to take in the ball.

Wham!

A jolt on his hip sent him sprawling.

At first, he thought a Tiger defenseman had snuck up on him. But when the stars in his head cleared, he saw Vince dribbling
the ball away in the direction of the Tigers’ goal.

Vince knocked me over to get the ball?
Mark thought incredulously. But he had to believe what his eyes were showing him. Except for Vince, no one else had been
around him. There was no other conclusion to make: Vince had stolen the ball from him!

M
ark stood up and dusted off his uniform. His leg was smarting where he had fallen on it. But he barely noticed the pain.

“Are you okay?” Coach Ryan called from the side-lines. Mark waved to him to show he was all right and jogged down the field
to catch up with the action.

But he wasn’t okay. Something had happened to him the minute he saw Vince with the ball. As the throbbing in his leg faded,
his blood seemed to boil throughout the rest of his body.

Mark was angrier than he had ever been in his life.

If he wants to play an “every man for himself” game, he thought, then so be it. I’ve tried to make this front line work, but
I can’t do it alone. So I’ll play it Vince’s way from now on.

And with that he threw himself into the play with a savageness he’d never shown before. When the Scorpions had possession
of the ball and were moving it toward the Tiger goal, he charged into every play like a wild animal. Twice he committed fouls
that cost the Scorpions free kicks. Luckily neither of them went in for a goal.

When the Tigers were attacking the Scorpions’ goal, he didn’t wait for the defense to clear the ball to him. Instead, he launched
himself into the center of the play, often crashing into his own teammates in his rush to get hold of the ball for himself.

In the final moments of the game, Mark threw an elbow at a Tiger wing right in front of the Scorpions’ goal. The ref caught
the foul and called a penalty kick.

The Scorpions retreated the required ten yards outside the penalty area. Charlie Burns hopped from foot to foot, getting ready
for the Tiger wing to take his best shot. A goal now would tie the game.

As Mark watched the ref place the ball on the penalty mark, he realized that this situation was his fault. If he had been
playing his usual position, the
game might be over now and the Scorpions walking off the field with another win under their belts.

Instead, he was holding his breath, waiting for the ref to blow his whistle, giving the Tiger wing the go-ahead.

Man, what a stupid move, Mark thought. What was I thinking, playing like that?

“Nice going, hotshot,” a voice behind him whispered mockingly.

Mark jerked around. Vince, his hands on his knees, was glaring at him.

All the fury Mark had felt earlier came rushing back to him. The ref’s whistle blew just as Mark was about to take a step
toward Vince.

Mark’s eyes followed the ball as it shot toward the goal. Charlie Burns leapt up, arms outstretched — and deflected the ball
up and over the net!

A moment later the clock ran out, and the Scorpions jogged off the field amid cheers from the stands.

But Mark didn’t feel like celebrating. His mind was a jumble of angry frustration. And when he caught a glimpse of his parents,
arguing as they left the bleachers, and of his grandparents’ faces twisted
with concern, he knew he couldn’t take any more. He turned and ran from the field as quickly as he could.

The next morning, Mark picked at his breakfast in stony silence. Food just didn’t interest him these days — even the fancy
dishes served at the restaurant where he’d gone with Craig and their mothers after the game. He could tell his mother had
been disappointed, but he just couldn’t help it.

And, on top of that, his leg had a nasty bruise where he had fallen on it the day before. When it was time to go, he slammed
the back door and stomped down the driveway to catch the bus. He could feel his grandmother watching him, but he didn’t turn
around.

At school, his silence continued. He spoke only when asked a question by one of his teachers. And at soccer practice, he played
with a ferocity he’d never shown before.

From now on, he said to himself, nobody’s going to get near me out on this field. Nobody.

And no one did during practice all week.

Coach Ryan seemed impressed by Mark’s intense playing — at first. But on Thursday, he took Mark aside.

“Listen, I know the idea is to get the ball,” he said. “But not if that means wrestling your own teammates for it. Back off
a little, and watch for the opportunities. Remember, you are part of a team, not flying solo.”

Mark’s scrimmage rotation had just finished. A new group of eleven guys took the field. Mark sat on the bench, watching the
action on the field.

“Hey, Mr. Inside, mind a little company, or would you prefer to plot your next strategy?” Craig flopped down next to Mark.

“What do you mean?” Mark asked.

“You’re playing every second out there like it’s your last. Like you have to control the ball as much as possible,” Craig
replied.

“Maybe I do,” Mark said.

“Okay, my turn,” Craig said. “What do
you
mean?”

“I mean it’s time I stopped letting certain people walk all over me. It’s time I looked out for myself out there. I’m playing
to win.”

Craig was silent for a moment. Then he crumpled
up his paper cup, stood up, and said quietly, “You ever shake up a bottle of soda, then screw the cap off? That’s what you
remind me of these days, Mark. Except your cap is still on tight.” He dumped the cup in the trash can and walked away.

When he arrived home that night, Mark sat on the edge of his bed and stared down at the floor. His cleats were covered with
mud. His shins showed the beginnings of new bruises and scrapes caused by his own aggressive playing that afternoon. His muscles
ached.

He pried his shoes off his feet and let them fall to the floor with a thump.

“You okay in there?” came his grandfather’s voice from outside his door. “Your dad called a little while ago. Both he and
your mother have been trying to get ahold of you all week. They say you haven’t been returning their calls. Mark?”

Mark stayed silent. He just didn’t feel like talking right now. Not about the game. Not about Vince. And most of all, not
about his parents.

T
he next day, Mark kept to himself as much as possible. Still, he couldn’t completely avoid Craig. It seemed as though Craig
was determined to forget their last conversation. But Mark couldn’t.

Craig wouldn’t let up. That afternoon, when the Scorpions traveled to Dade City to play the Slickers, Craig slid into the
seat next to Mark as always.

“ ‘City Slickers,’ get it?” he said.

“Yeah, I get it,” said Mark.

“So how come you’re not laughing?” Craig asked.

Mark looked at him quickly. But Craig was just smiling his big puppy-dog smile at him. For some reason, that broke through
Mark’s guard as nothing else could have.

He grinned back. “Is it my fault if your jokes are so lame they fall flat on their faces?” he said. Both
boys laughed, and Mark felt better than he had in days.

But the minute the teams took the field for the start of the game, Mark turned serious. Although Coach Ryan’s warning echoed
through his brain, he wondered if he would be able to play the cool-headed game he usually played — or if the mere sight of
Vince would send him into a frenzied tail-spin. He found out soon enough.

The Slickers kicked off and kept control of the ball by crashing through the Scorpions’ forward line. They moved the ball
all the way into the corner, where a hard-fought struggle for possession took place between Craig and a Slicker wing. The
ball bounced free toward Vince. Vince took it on his chest and let it drop in front of him. Then he began to dribble downfield.

He didn’t even look up to see if I was open, Mark fumed. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a Slicker defenseman
breathing down his neck. He realized it was just as well that Vince hadn’t passed off. That Slicker would undoubtedly have
been able to swoop in for a steal.

By the time Vince had brought the ball in front of
the Slicker goal, Mark had shaken the defenseman. He was in perfect position for a pass that could result in a goal. But Vince
still had possession of the ball. He was the only one who could call the play. And Mark could see that Vince wasn’t about
to give up the ball so easily.

For a moment, it looked as though Vince was going to have a good shot on the goal. He had expertly evaded his defenseman and
was pulling his leg back for a mighty kick. Then quick as a wink, a second Slicker backfielder leapt in front of him and stole
the ball.

“Come on, you Scorpions!” Mark shouted as play turned in the other direction.

The Slickers carried the ball into the Scorpions’ midfield — but that was as far as they got. Eddie Chu caught up to the ball
on a bad pass from one Slicker to another. He wasted no time in booting it directly to Mark.