KICK IT | JENLISA

133

Lisa

The game clock set to 15:00 signalled a new start, a new chapter. My first step was the most significant, the depression of turf under my cleats. Silencing critics, media, and whoever else hid behind a screen with the balls to assume my career ended offered a small taste of victory. And I was here to feast.

Houston's seventy-seven thousand strong welcomed me back with a thunderous reintroduction I didn't deserve. Their concert-level applause and cheers lifted the corners of my mouth and filled my chest with pride. I couldn't stop grinning, from the moment I stepped onto the lot to take the field.

My body was as loose and pliant through warm-ups as it was during training camp and pre-season games. Thanks to Jennie's rehab, my increased ankle stability meant stronger grounding. Extra flexibility in my hips twisted me farther into my throws. Loose and warm, my shoulder rotated where it needed to be.

Let's start with a screen. I bent over and slipped my hands into position behind my centre. "A-sixty-four!" A quick scan showed the twitches of toes within cleats, coils of leg muscles drawn back to spring faster than their opponent on the other side of the line. The hunger between each side teased the tip of my tongue as I flicked it over my lips. The air's excitement coated my skin.

"A-sixty-four!" I barked out, spanning my palms. "Hut-hut, hike!"

Rough leather returned home in my hands. Dropping back one, two, three steps, all my right arm's muscles squeezed isometric contractions as I reared it back. The grunts, groans, and cusses ahead of me faded. With my feet planted and heels grounded, the coiled compression fired up the fibres in my back and shoulders. I released in a spiral as crisp as the night air.

Sweat dripped from my brow as I turned into a spectator for Austin, padding the stats for his contract renewal year as his legs churned downfield. Where my throws ended, my receiver core's flashy feet and smiles took over. Fist after fist of mine pumped the air, lifting the crowd and firing off explosive fireworks when we scored first.

Cut apart, put back together, and adversity at my back surged me forward. In my professional life, I had one goal: proving my worth to the team, the fans, and the city of Houston. Beyond that was the real rush.

During a commercial break, the crowd roared at the television screens in acknowledgment of my cheering section, revealing the real heroes present today. Twenty of Jennie's yoga therapy class participants and their families were in attendance, spread over two luxury boxes in my treat for tonight's opener and every home game after.

Jennie's parents probably plotted their exit strategy while mine planned our wedding. Introducing the woman who dropped me on my head to knock sense into me went over as well as I expected. Within one example of an insulting nickname, they loved Jennie.