11: Bitter Victory

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2 years earlier

"Hernan, here!" With exhausted limbs and ragged breath, Tyler ran across the midline of the field, narrowly avoiding being called off for offside as the passed the last defender right before his teammate and friend kicked the pass.

Every muscle hurt while Tyler sprinted across the grass to catch the ball. Being on extension time with the game tied 2-2, this might be his last chance to win the game for his team. The ref could blow the whistle that signaled the end of regular time at any moment, meaning extension time followed by penalties. But all that could be avoided with a late goal, right as time ran out. Winning this game would mean everything. It was thirty years since his school won the soccer finals of the high school tournament. That time, the player who scored the winning goal was named Garrett Caster.

This wasn't the time to reminisce. This was the time to run. And Tyler ran. He ignored the screams of his lungs, begging for him to stop and breathe, and instead pushed further. The perfectly timed pass from Hernan bounced in front of him. It was within his grasp to reach. But the opponent goalie also ran toward the ball, making himself big to deter Tyler. Luckily, Tyler wasn't scared. He didn't care if he would break his limbs when they inevitably collided. He only cared about winning.

Using whatever fuel remained in his body, he threw his left foot toward the ball, redirecting it to the side right before the goalie threw himself at it. The ball went to the left and Tyler ran to the right, rounding the goaltender.

Now, nothing remained between him and the net anymore. But the ball rolled fast away from him and from behind, he could hear the rapid steps of chasing defenders.

No energy remained in Tyler's body as he threw himself toward the ball in a last-ditch effort. He slid on the grass toward the rolling target, not sure if he would be able to reach it.

It all happened so fast and so slowly at the same time. The tip of his left toe touched the ball, changing its direction ever so slightly. Laying on the ground, with grass stains on his shorts and dirt streaks on his skin, he could only watch it travel across the grass. The pace was slow and the trajectory was unclear. But maybe it was still enough?

When the crowd erupted in cheers, Tyler knew his effort hadn't been in vain. Too exhausted to move, he reached his hands in the hair, able to give his exhausted lungs some air before all of his teammates tumbled atop of him.

"You did it! You fucking did it, Tyler!" Hernan yelled in his ear, placing a rough kiss on his sweaty forehead. It wasn't the kind of boy-kiss Tyler dreamt about on lonely nights, but right now, it was the best kind of kiss. It was a kiss of victory.

Buried in that pile of congratulations and sweat, Tyler couldn't help but wonder if winning had felt the same for his dad. Perhaps this was the closest he would ever get to the man that sired him. Perhaps at that moment, they were one and the same. Exhausted, exhilarated, and most of all, victorious.

***

"Well done, son!" Tyler's uncle greeted Tyler when he stepped off the field, adrenaline still pumping through his veins and sweat running down his forehead after the heated game. "I was hollering like a madman up there in the stands."

"Thank you," Tyler mumbled, unsure of how to handle the praise coming his way after the game. Nothing could erase the smile on his lips though.

"You were great, Ty!" To Tyler's surprise, his cousin Lance ran up to him, giving him a hearty pat on the shoulder. "So much better than I ever was. I was mostly on the bench though..."

"When did you get here?" Tyler asked, happy but confused to see his older cousin there. Being six years older than him, Lance had always been Tyler's idol as a kid. And despite the age difference, Lance had never been beyond playing with his younger cousin. Tyler remembered countless hours spent kicking ball together during family get-togethers. "I thought you were in the Middle East?" Lance had enrolled in the army right before Tyler moved in with his aunt and uncle, making his room available for Tyler to take over, and between boot camp training and being sent on a mission overseas, he'd only been home a handful of times in the almost two years that had passed since.

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