30 Day Angst Challenge

Fifteen: The Coach Hates You

I was at my football club at university. Seeing as my boyfriend, Trent, is a professional footballer, I wanted to try to improve my minimal football skills. The club is meant to be for amateurs, however most people are really good. I found myself playing as a central midfielder, which had its ups and downs – I didn't have the ball all that often, meaning I didn't get tackled too much. However, I when I did have the ball, I tended to get tackled quite easily.

We were playing a little 5-a-side tournament to end the day's session, and the ball had just been passed into my feet. I tried to pass to my teammate in front of me, however it was intercepted and the opposition took the ball, ending up scoring.

"C'mon (Y/N), you've gotta have better focus than that!" The coach, Coach Sheridan, yelled at me.

I just nodded, getting back into my position for kick off. The opposition ended up winning the ball again, this time not my fault, and I went back to help the defenders. The opposition still managed to score though.

"C'mon (Y/N), your defending's gotta be better than that!"

I didn't really understand why Coach Sheridan was picking on me on that occasion seeing as I was on the opposite side of the goal to where the goal had been scored, but I just nodded anyway. I didn't want to make any more mistakes, however as I attempted a through ball to the striker on my team, I gave the ball away once again.

"(Y/N), c'mon!" Coach Sheridan shouted.

I wanted nothing more than for this to be over. I hadn't even played the pass that badly – if anything the striker probably should've got there, and she gave me an apologetic look which told me she agreed. I was on the ball, driving forwards, when I was tackled hard to the ground. Ouch – I think I just twisted my ankle or something.

"(Y/N)! Up!" Coach Sheridan yelled. "You can't just give up the ball every time you get tackled." She sounded angry.

"Are you okay?" One of my teammates asked, helping me off the floor. I gave a pained smile and nodded, trying not to limp my way through the final five minutes of the game.

Finally, Coach Sheridan blew her whistle to signal the end of the match. My team had lost 4-0. Coach called us all over to break down our game.

"That was an interesting match. Red team, well done. Your defending was spot on and your finishing was on point." Coach said. The red team had been the winning team.

"Blue team, you didn't have a great game, but that happens. Your defending was rather sloppy and your finishing wasn't brilliant, not helped by some great saves from Holly." Coach Sheridan continued. Holly was the goalie for the red team.

"(Y/N), you really let your side down. All four goals were your fault. You played terribly to be honest, but there's not really any surprise there when this is your standard week in, week out."

I bit my lip, my cheeks turning red in embarrassment. Everybody looked shocked by Coach Sheridan's harsh words.

"Sorry." I mumbled.

"Maybe next time you'll actually play somewhat decently." Coach Sheridan quipped. "Right, that's the session over. Everyone get hydrated, and I'll see you all next week."

The group slowly dispersed, heading back to the changing room. I trudged slowly, limping because of the pain coursing through my ankle. I slipped into the changing room and grabbed my bag before heading for the bus stop. I was heading to Trent's house for the night, and I was supposed to walk back to mine and pack an overnight bag first, but I figured I could just borrow something of Trent's seeing as I could barely walk.

The bus to Trent's only took twenty minutes, and soon enough I was hobbling up to his front door. His mother, Diane, answered.

"Oh, hi (Y/N)." She smiled kindly. "Come on in. I'm really sorry, Trent's not home yet, he got held up."