Chapter 43
ALIA
“What?”
I know it’s not the most eloquent response to being offered an opportunity with the potential to turn my life around, but I’m in far too much shock to rephrase it with the more polite ‘Excuse me?’
I’m certain I misheard my old coach offer me the position of assistant coach for the Indian women’s cricket team.
Sitting on my desk, staring at the screen where Coach Rodriguez and Neeta Singh, midfielder when we played together and now newly appointed captain, pitch the job to me, I’m struggling to keep up.
The current assistant coach is expected to go on an extended maternity leave in a few months and I, apparently, am the preferred candidate to replace her.
“I know you don’t have formal coaching training,” Coach explains.
“We’ll work with the board to get you certified on a fast-track program with special consideration based on your history.
That’s why I got you to review those tapes for me.
Every recommendation you’ve made, I’ve implemented with an eighty-seven percent success rate. ”
I nod on autopilot, still dumbfounded by Coach’s words. I was being tested without knowing it and somehow have come out on top. It’s been so long since I’ve faced success—not failure—my body has forgotten how to generate the appropriate response of joy and excitement. Instead, I’m numb.
A tinny sound echoes between my eardrums as I try to rein in my expressions. I’m still waiting for one of them to burst out laughing and admit this is all some elaborate prank.
They don’t.
Neeta looks earnest as she speaks next.
“I’ve played with you, Alia, and I remember what a keen eye you had for form and position. You always knew how to tweak a play just right to make an impact. My batting average improved when you helped work my swings. I want the new girls to learn from you.”
“New girls?”
“The team’s seen quite a lot of movement. Half of us are new players learning to work together. That’s where I think you can really make a difference. Come out, observe us on the field, and whip us into shape.”
“I’ve seen the tapes. You’re all incredibly talented. Are you sure you need me?”
“We lack cohesion as a team, and I can see you being an asset in helping us get to a point where we can compensate for each other’s weakness.”
Coach Rodriguez nods in agreement.
“We’ve spoken to the GM and upper management, shown them the before and after stats of the players whose performances you reviewed.
They were aware I’d reached out to you for informal counsel.
Sitting across the world, you managed to help us.
Even those who had doubts are on board with bringing you on. ”
“But, I—”
“You’re sharp and we can benefit from your experience. Help the team, Alia. We miss you. We want—no, need—your help to play better.”
“I. . . I. . .” I stammer, my head pounding from the pressure of my emotions. “Could I have a few days to think it over?”
“Don’t take too long. Your team’s waiting for you,” Coach Rodriguez adds as we sign off on the call.
I lean back with a sigh, staring out the window at the bright day outside. The world moves at its own pace while I remain paused, replaying the conversation that just ended.
My nose burns, a prickling sensation crawling up my spine as a cathartic sort of pain sits heavy on my chest.
A few months ago, I had no idea where my life was going. Now, I have two job offers, both related to the sport I love. One will keep me here, where I’ve made new friends and am finally settling into a life in which I’m happy.
The other. . . My throat sticks around a hard swallow. The other will give me the chance to correct the mistakes of my past. Mistakes I’ve struggled to forgive myself for. Mistakes I’m still learning to move on from.
It’ll give me a chance to rewrite my chapter within the history of Indian women’s cricket, one I was forced to leave unfinished.
My dreams before came at the cost of having no life outside of the game. It was a sacrifice I made willingly as a teen. But this time, I hesitate. I question how badly I want this. Whether I can live without taking the opportunity I’ve been presented with.
Because the cost this time?
. . . Cal.