Her Name Was Maddison

Goalie

I remember the first time I properly met her. Her 10-year-old self so excited about playing in the grand final. It seems ever since the minute we met, she would come to my rescue when no one else did.

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I look down at my mud-splattered socks and boots, only slightly regretting it. I was sitting on the ground with my left ankle twisted at an angle that I'm pretty sure isn't natural, and as I slowly attempt to pull my left leg closer to my body, a wave of pain shoots up my leg and stops me, with a small groan escaping my mouth. Instead I try to move my toes, but they don't move and just set off another wave of stinging pain, so I leave it be.

I can hear that my coach is yelling at me from the sidelines, telling me to get up and walk it off, so I turn my body to face him. I go to yell back but then realise I don't think I can yell that far without showing how vulnerable I am at the moment, so instead I shake my head at him and hope he'll realise its more than just a rolled ankle.

"C'mon Alice! You'll be fine! You're a strong girl!" His voice carries across the pitch to me, and I realise I'm just gonna have to prove to him I can't keep playing. I take a deep breath and prepare my body for the pain before planting my hands on the ground and heaving myself up to a squat, using the strength from my right leg to get into a standing position. I try to balance on my good leg and slowly lift my left ankle so that my coach can see its awkward position, but I stop because it hurts too much.

"That's it Alice! You're alright!" He encourages me to keep playing but I shake my head back at him. By now, the opposition player who was manning me has realised what was going on and comes to my rescue.

"Ref!" She shouts trying to get the referee's attention once the ball was kicked out of play, but by now he's down the other end of the pitch. Thank god the opposition coach noticed and was nice enough to step in, considering my coach, Peter is being a stubborn donkey.

"What are you doing?" Their coach asks Peter. "Sub her off! She can't walk for crying out loud!" Peter seems slightly taken aback before grumbling something I can't make out from this distance. Luckily by now the whole commotion has caught the referee's attention and he blows his whistle to stop the game for a while, and allows me to be taken off.

"Here," the opposition's goalie runs up next to me and wraps her arm around my waist for support, and helps me painfully hop over to the sidelines. She's about the same height as me but doesn't look particularly strong, so I don't want to put all my weight on her. Instead I wrap my arm around her neck and balance on my right leg. "It's alright. You can lean on me. I'm stronger than I look." I nod and ease the pressure off my good leg a little bit.

"Thanks.." I manage to breathe out as I wince at the pain of my ankle moving.

"Maddi. I mean I'm Maddi," she tells me in between steps, her voice straining each time I put my weight on her.

Finally we reach the sidelines and Maddi sits me down and returns to the game, but not before giving me a small smile. Immediately, my mum and team manager are around me, tending to my ankle. They tell me I should probably go to the doctors as soon as possible to get an x-ray, but I insist I want to watch the rest of the game, after all it is the grand final, so they settle for icing my injured ankle which has now swelled up to twice it's normal size.

As the game goes on my team slowly falls behind and at half time we are 2-0 down. About half way through the second half, one of the dads from my team got me some crutches from the club rooms, that I am allowed to borrow until I get an x-ray from the doctors.

"Here you are, kiddo," he says as he helps me to my feet and readjusts the length of the crutches to suit my height. "Go and give them a quick a try." He hands them to me. I slide them under my arms and give them a go, with my ice pack strapped onto my left ankle. I'm a little wobbly at first and I'm quite slow, but they work well. I thank him before returning my attention to the game just in time to see Maddi save an awesome shot from our attacker. The ball was going for the bottom left corner, but Maddi just got her hand to it, punching it out of the way with a firm, gloved fist, and I get the urge to cheer for her before realising I'm meant to be going for my own team.

The game goes on and I watch from the sidelines as my team continues to fight for first place, and I can't help but notice how much better as a team our opposition are. I can see that they all enjoy playing with each other which helps make their game plans work better. They each know where they're expected to be and make sure they get their jobs done.

There's only a couple of minutes to go and were still down 4-1, and I've heard a fair few curses fly from Peter's mouth. I know I'm his favourite player on the team, but I don't really enjoy it. Yes, I do score quite a few more goals than the other girls on my team do, but what would that matter if the other girls weren't there to bring the ball down the field from the defense, through the middle and then into me. Sometimes I feel useless just waiting for the ball to be cleared, or for it to to be crossed in by a teammate. All the other girls seem to do all the hard work, and then sometimes it seems like I get all the glory just for putting on the finishing touch.

The game finishes with our opposition in front, 4-2. We get told to line up and receive Runners Up medals, before the other team is given their gold medals and a plaque for the club. After the quick presentation, my team says a couple of quick goodbyes before leaving while the other team continue to chat and congratulate each other excitedly.

Because my Mum is our manager I have to wait for her to pack up the flags and the nets from the pitch. Usually I'd help, but because of my leg I end up waiting by the fence of the oval while she packs it all up. As I'm sitting I'm surprised to see Maddi coming over to me out of the corner of my eye, her water bottle in hand.

"Hi," I say as she sits down beside me. "You guys played really well." I congratulate her, and a small blush forms on her cheeks.

"Ahh, thanks. You guys did pretty good, too," she says awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. I hold back a scoff. It was obvious they were a far better team than us. We were just a bunch of good players, running around with a ball, whereas they really knew how to play as a team.

"Hey, thanks for helping me out there, today. My coach can be a real... hagfish sometimes." I tell her, careful not to let too much of my frustration show, "He just really gets on my nerves, you know?" Maddi giggles a little at my choice of words and raises her eyebrows at me.

"A hagfish?" She asks me.

"What? It's an actual thing..." I say. Maddi takes another sip from her water bottle, but ends up spraying it out as she begins to laugh. "Look it up if you don't believe me." I tell her, but she just shakes her head in amusement.

"Alright. I believe ya."

"Maddi! It's time to go," shouts who I'm guessing is Maddi's dad. She sighs as she gets up from her place next to me and wipes all the dirt from her butt.

"I guess I gotta go," She says apologetically. "I'll see ya round... erm... sorry, what was your name again?"

"Alice," I tell her with a smile.

"Right. See ya, Alice." Maddi leaves with a wave and a happy grin. She runs up to her dad and gives him a hug before they walk off to their car.

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Unfortunately, I didn't really get to see Maddi around very often. In fact I didn't see her for at least a couple of years, but I never did forget that beautiful smile and the way she seemed to have this magical ability to make me happy. And that was something I didn't ever want to forget.