Adrenaline pumped through my veins as people roared from the stands. Spotlights lit up the field even though the sun had just barely started to set on the outdoor field. A wave of crimson filled the stadium with white and blue speckled in certain areas. My eyes were glued on Finn's back where the red '42' was printed on the black short sleeve jersey with Maryland's signature midevil red, yellow, and black pattern.
I could already feel sweat forming under my shoulder and arm pads, my black and patterned helmet holding my black gloves while my long black D-pole sat in my right hand. Owen walked behind me wearing his own uniform, his eyes probably trained on the back of my jersey. When we reached the bench with our other teammates I heard familiar voices yell out loud enough for everyone in a fifty yard radius to hear over the roaring crowd. "Kick Sam's fucking ass!"
Finn and Owen's lips tipped into a smirk like mine as the Hopkins goalies' ears perked, hearing the group yelling his name. The blonde boy turned from his bench and cupped his hands over his mouth to make a speaker. "Fuck you Jason, Kelsey, and Emma!" He yelled back at the top of his lungs.
Ant, Rob, Jason, Emma, and Kelsey all had seats together at the Maryland bench line. They all knew Sam except for Ant and Rob but they happily yelled along, knowing Sam was Finn and I's best friend. The five of them wore Maryland T-shirts. Kelsey was wearing my Wounded Warrior grey jersey with 'Freedom' printed on the back and the American flag lining the sleeves. I'd asked her why she wanted a Maryland jersey and she said she needed to destroy Sam's ego for her sake. I was more than happy to agree. Ant and Rob obviously didn't go to the school so they were borrowing Finn and Owen's jerseys for the game.
"Well guys, Jason might just kick you off Team USA if you lose this so for your sake, I hope we win." Owen patted me on the back with his gloved hand.
"Gee thanks. Real comforting." I said sarcastically while slipping my mouth guard in. "Although I'm more worried about Sam's bragging."
"Ditto." Finn replied before putting his black helmet on his head. We all did the same and put on our gloves. I always did my left hand quickly, making sure to cover the glittering ring before a referee saw it. Wearing it was technically against the rules but we wore gloves so it was less for other players safety and more for my own so I didn't get a piece of metal stuck around my finger after a good hit. I didn't care; I refused to take off the promise ring ever since Finn gave me four months ago. It was a part of me by now.
This game was do or die; I knew if we lost this my name would be in the news yet again but so would Finn's. It would be bad press but depending on how you look at it, I always have bad press. Any logical person would know that two people can't carry a whole D1 team, let alone in a championship game, but that wouldn't stop the sports critics from asking if we were really world class players.
"You better remember Sam's weak spots." I told Owen loudly through my mouth guard. I had briefed him on which shots would throw Sam off earlier in the week. Sam was a damn good goalie, definitely top five in the country, so we needed all the advantages we could get. I'd never played against the star goalie in anything but a scrimmage so this was nerve racking.
"I'll pass to you if you can run it up." Owen assured me, he would only take the risk if I was in an optimal position which was good but I doubted that would happen. If a defensemen scored, it was usually after a turnover.
***
I fucking hate Sam.
This was looking to be an incredibly low scoring game for an NCAA championship. Between our defense and Sam's skills, the score was tied at 3-3 with fifteen minutes left. Biased on the way this was going, whoever scored next would probably win the championship. Usually scores range from 9 to 20 on average but this game was lowballing it by a lot.
For all the drunks in Maryland playing Over-Under, we were sure messing up their pools. You would think college lacrosse isn't that big and it isn't, but this year it was two Maryland teams so it was huge in this state right now.
"I want to punch him in the face." I muttered to Finn as he guzzled water from his green Gatorade bottle. They were optimal because we didn't have to take our helmets off.
"I'm sure he wants to punch us in the face too." Finn responded when he was done drinking, tossing me the bottle. I caught it in my gloved hands and squeezed it into my mouth. "Either way, you know he and Kelsey are coming over after the game and they're probably going to stay the night."
I can't even fuck my boyfriend in the off season anymore.
What has this world come to?
"Well then we better win, Captain, because I'm not about to let anyone with a bigger ego than yours sleep in our home. Your ego takes up enough space as it is. " I put the bottle on the bench before taking my stick from my armpit. "It's crunch time."
And that it was.
With five minutes left, we were still tied. I watched Finn on the ground with Hopkins number 9. The whistle blew and Finn shoved his shoulder into the player while they both snapped their sticks down. Finn flicked the ball to one of our other midfielders but a white crosse cut in front of the black stick and scooped the yellow ball off the green turf.
The blue player barreled down the field as I started to charge forwards at him, cutting off his path from the left. I checked his stick while trying to drive him out of bounds. The ball dropped to the green turf thanks to my strong hit. By the faint of heart, another player came up from behind the other Hopkins player and body slammed me into the ground.
The angle of the hit on my short frame threw me into the air a few inches before my weight was pulled back down to the ground. My lungs expelled all the air in them as my back hit the hard field with a thud. It wasn't often a defensive player got knocked onto the ground but I seemed to be good at that this year. Usually it was the attack or the midfielders taking the brunt of the abuse.
Pain shot through my body but I ignored it and scrambled to get up, to see the ball was already near our goal thanks to my fall and the lack of coverage in the area. The player that had knocked me down took a side arm shot at Marvin's right side. Thankfully, Sam had told us that Marvin was struggling and now the right was his strong side.
The large goalie stick easily caught the ball before it crossed the goal line. I was on my feet with my stick raised high in no time, but Marvin saw that Finn was open a few feet behind me and passed to him because he was the furthest down field.
My eyes watched the yellow ball soar through the dusk sky and land in a white crosse that slid in front of Finn's just in time. As quickly as it had happened, my feet pounded on the ground harder than ever to stop the intercepted ball from being brought back to goal. Perhaps fueled by my anger from being knocked on my ass, I threw my shoulder into the baby blue players gut, my lifting body through my bent knees and tossing the 180lb boy back a foot before his body crashed into the ground much harder than I had. I'd hit him so hard that I felt the pain through my pads.
I automatically straightened up to run when I heard the whistle pierce my eardrums and the stadium go quiet for the call. A yellow flag was thrown in front of me before I could even focus my vision fully. "Personal penalty;Unnecessary Roughness, number 35. Two minute penalty. 9 has possession." The referee in the stripped shirt said while making the appropriate hand gestures. Did anyone understand those? I'm semi pro and I still don't remember them.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and jogged off the field to the bench. Coach didn't even acknowledge me as I stood at the designated spot for penalties between the two team's areas. Thanks to the call that shouldn't have been made, Finn had to give Number 9 one meter, putting him behind the ball in no place to defend.
Finn was open when the pass was made in his direction and that area is still open. The whistle blew and Number 9 was off, whipping a shot at the 12 meter arch at a last ditch attempt to score before he lost possession to the now impending two defensemen. Now that I was gone for two minutes, we had a huge hole in our defense.
This time, Marvin wasn't so lucky and the yellow ball swished in the back of the goal, earning a groan from what seemed to be not only me, but the whole stadium.
Over my two minutes in the penalty box, Owen scored on Sam bring the score to 4-4. I felt my heart flutter with joy when I saw it happen because I was sure that our game was over after the previous goal. I don't know if the pressure was getting to everyone, but two goals in two minutes was uncharacteristically high for tonight's game.
When I was allowed to join the game again, the ball was already in play. Owen had just gotten the ball near Marvin and was running up field on the side where I had just stepped onto the grass. I held my stick up and yelled, "Here!" louder than I'd ever yelled before. No one was guarding me yet because my penalty had literally just ended. Owen recognized my voice at the 50 yard line and juked his defender before making a hasty pass thirty yards to me.
I snatched the ball out of the air in an exaggerated cradle before pushing my legs harder than they'd ever been pushed before. This was the most important game I had played in so far and I was not about to fail with less than three minutes left.
I ran over the restraining line, knowing Owen would stay back since I had a chance. Two defenders in blue appeared on either side of me, trying to check my stick but my weight lifters grip held firm. I could feel their sweaty body heat mingling with mine as they tried to corner me into having to back up, so I did.
I rolled around the one on my left and made a clean pass five feet over the goal, out of Sam's reach, and into one of our attack players sticks. Axel, the player at X who caught the ball, was left open. It was rule one of lacrosse that the defender didn't go to X, they never went directly behind the goal. That was an idiots guide to getting juked and scored on.
One of my defenders suddenly lost interest in me, scrambling to get on the midfielders entering the area. I juked the one still near me, getting past him and running through the 12 meter arch with my stick raised high. Axel ran around the crease on the opposite side, passing the ball back to me when the goal post wasn't in his line of shot.
I snatched the ball with another exaggerated cradle before pulling the stick back and whipping a shot at the weak spot on the inside of Sam's left ankle. The ball launched like a bullet and crossed the goal line before Sam could move his foot or snap the stick in front of that corner of vulnerability.
Warming up with a goalie has its perks.