My Kid

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At halftime, we were up 1-0 on Mexico. 

"Girls, take a look at the possession and the way we've been playing. We should be winning by more than this, correct?" Said coach. 

Everybody kind of muttered a yes or nodded. 

"So what do we need to do better?" 

"Take shots!" I chimed in. "We only have 4 shots on target. Possession shows we should have double that. So take shots." 

"Exactly, Britney." He went on explaining that more, and I felt kind of proud to say something important.

"Also watch out for that one girl. I think her number was in the 30's. She's a midfielder and is very pushy. She had a few blatant fouls that weren't called, so she's going to keep getting away with it." I said. 

"Exactly my next point." 

I listened for the rest of the halftime talk, and then Becky Sauerbrunn who's the captain talked. But before we knew it, it was the start of the second half. 

I settled in, but not for long. 

The number 37 (the pushy one) ran Lindsey over from behind and stepped on her ankle. Lindsey was down and really hurt. 

"Jonhston. Warm up quickly." Vlatko said, not even looking at me. 

"Let's go. Come on." Trinity Rodman pulled me up from the bench and we warmed up together. 

The trainers were tending to Lindsey. It was a pretty nasty injury and the other player was given a yellow. 

I looked over for a second, and I think I saw her ankle out of place and some blood. I covered my eyes and turned away and Sam Coffey noticed. 

"Don't look over there. No need to look." She said, putting her arm around me and turning me away. "Just get ready to go in." 

I nodded and kept stretching, then I was called over as they loaded Lindsey on a stretcher and took her into an ambulance. Some girls looked like they were gonna vomit, especially Mal. 

Everyone went away from the bench where they were crowded and took their spots on the field. I took off my pinny and went to the middle after being told to do so. 

Vlatko told me a bunch of stuff and I nodded along. We played down a player for 2 minutes before I could finally come in. 

"And now a change for the US; in the 55th minute, an injury sub, exiting the match, number 10, Lindsey Horan. Entering the match, number 88, making her US Women's national team debut, Britney Johnston!" 

The crowd went wild as I sprinted onto the field, making sure to run by Julie to give her a high five. She had a huge smile as I came on. 

My first touch of the game was a header that I redirected to Mal, who did her sprint dribble down the field. We didn't get a goal off of it, but we did get a corner. 

Because I'm only a relatively sad 5'5, I stayed outside the box while the girls that were taller than me went in. 

Mal over the ball, she kicks it into the middle. It bounces around a little bit, but ultimately got cleared. 

But not very far, because it fell right to my feet. I controlled it, took a touch with the outside of my foot, and took a shot as 3 defenders closed in on me. 

It looked like it was going over and wide, but it decided to curve perfectly into the top right corner of the net. 

I got the absolute CHILLS as the stands erupted so loudly and my teammates yelled. I jumped up so high and pumped my first in the air when I scored. Everyone ran over and crowded around me. 

They were all talking and chattering about how insane the shot was, but the only words that mattered were Julie's.

"I told you you'd get in." She said, her arm around my shoulders as we walked to the center. 

"You did." 

"And that's a hell of a shot. I wonder where you learned that one." 

I laughed and she pulled me in for a hug again. 

A few minutes later, I had the ball in the middle of the field and I dribbled it down the field, megging a defender on the way. 

Then as I was about to pass the ball, I was shoved off the ball really hard. I tried to keep my footing, but I couldn't. I fell, rolled once and popped back up to try to win the ball back. But the whistle was blown and a yellow was given to the number 37 girl. 

"Man. It's about time." I said under my breath as the ref walked away. 

"What was that?" The girl asked, but I didn't say anything as I walked away to get in the group for the set piece. 

When I didn't answer, she persisted. 

"What did you say?" 

"Nothing." I muttered, and lined up between a Mexico player and Kelley O'Hara. 

I got shoved out of my spot, and I tuned to see who it was. 

The girl wouldn't let it go, but I was trying to. 

She kept pushing me over and over again, but clearly having no reaction wasn't working. 

"What the hell?" I said. "Leave me alone." 

"Why?" 

"Because-" I turned to face her, and then Julie was right there to step in between. 

"Are you pushing her? Leave her alone." She said. "Don't touch my kid." 

"But she said-" 

"No way you're actually trying to fight with a 16 year old. Hands off my kid." 

Julie didn't do or say anything more as she walked away back to her spot. The girl kept her hands off me. 

Mal took the set piece kick, and it was perfectly right to Julie, who put a rocket header in the back of the net.

She was so happy, and after the goal I heard her say to Kelley; "Don't mess with my kid." 

Something about her referring to me as her kid made me so insanely happy that I couldn't wipe the stupid smile off my face. 



Mini Ertz///USWNT/NWSLWhere stories live. Discover now