Chapter 3
Chapter Three
~MAC~
“Ijust want this to be over.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“I’m sorry, Mackenzie, but that’s not really how this works,” Cindy tells me. “He will focus on you again.” Her arms are crossed, and her brown eyes are boring into me.
All I want to do is get right into practice like the rest of the team, but Cindy requested to see me.
I don’t want to talk to anyone from PR. I’m not sure what else there is to say, to her or anyone else at this point.
The article has been written. It’s been talked about a few times on local sports shows, and someone even referenced him on ESPN.
It must have made him so happy to hear his name on national television, but I couldn’t give a fuck.
I shake my head. “This isn’t happening. I don’t want to be the center of his articles. I don’t want the team to be the center of any of them either.”
She sighs. “Mr. Cromwell has spared no expense in making this team well known and he will not stop. He believes in you women, and I believe in you too. But there will be plenty of people who will want to take you down, Danny included. You just need to be prepared.”
“Is that why you called me in here? To warn me to be prepared?” My tone comes out a bit more biting than I meant for it to. I grab for the braid of blonde hair hanging down my back and run the end of it through my fingertips, taking comfort in its smoothness.
“Yes, and to tell you that if you need to talk to anyone, I’m here.
I’m here to help you.” Her features shift and soften.
She makes her way over to me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“This will go away. You’re a great player—you have to know that.
He’s just being his normal joyful self, but you just keep giving it back to him the way you did the other night, and I’ll back you one hundred percent.
” She winks at me. “I think you could really give him a run for his money, and I want that so much.”
I giggle. “Thanks, Cindy. I enjoyed it too.”
“Good for you. Now get to practice before Watts comes looking for you.”
“Will do.” With that, I leave and wind through the building to make it to practice.
I try to remember that I’m going to continue to be under a microscope, and maybe that just means my skin has to be that much tougher.
And maybe I’ll just have to keep on giving it back to Mr. Taylor, especially if he is going to try and keep this attack going.
My lungs are burning. Coach Watts is in a terrible mood.
I’m not sure what from, but he’s certainly taking it out on us.
He made us run sixties, which are painfully awful in their own way.
A player has sixty seconds to make it around the perimeter of the soccer field.
If you don’t make it, the punishment is more sixties.
And sometimes push-ups. It’s ungodly hard and I hate it, but I’ll never tell him that or else he’ll just make us do it more often.
“Mac!” he shouts when he finally gives us a water break.
“Go get ’em, tiger,” Cass teases me. “But for the love of god, don’t make him angrier. I don’t want to have to run anymore sixties.”
I wink and head over. “What’s up, Coach Watts?”
“Mac, are you doing okay? I heard Cindy needed a word before practice.”
“She did and I’m fine.”
“What was going on the other night? I’ve never seen you quite so flat,” he remarks.
He’s not wrong. “I don’t know, sir, but it won’t happen again,” I promise him.
“See that it doesn’t,” he says. “And I liked the spunk that you answered that jerk with. Don’t let him get you down. You’re a leader and you belong here.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
He nods and I head back over to the team.
“You good?” Henny asks me.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
The rest of practice goes on with more of the same.
The offense and defense are split so that we can work on our mistakes from the game the other night.
We have another one coming up soon, and it has to be a better showing.
The fans will understand a loss, but not a loss with very little offensive action, especially after Danny’s article.
It’s a home game, so the same fans—assuming they show up—will be in the stands.
I fire ball after ball at Hendrix, attempting shots from multiple angles so that I can get some good range and practice in.
My legs are burning by the time we’re finished.
The other girls must have noticed the power in my shots, because they’re firing harder as well.
As a result, Hendrix gets a good workout.
She switches out and our backup keeper, Miranda, takes over for her.
I look over at Hendrix, seeing her toweling off in the Tampa heat. She’s chugging some sports drink and working to control her breathing. When her eyes catch mine, I mouth, “I’m sorry.”
She just shrugs and smiles. I’m sure she appreciated the workout. The whole team needs to be on our game. Every one of us knows that the fans are watching our every move.
Coach Watts makes his way over to me. “You okay, Mac? You were really firing hard at the keeper.”
I flash him a sympathetic smile similar to what I sent Hendrix. “I didn’t mean to, sir. I just want to make sure we’re primed and ready for Saturday. It’s another home game. Another chance to show them what we’ve got.”
He beams at me and places a hand on my shoulder. “That right there, that spark in your eyes and in your shot, that is why you were chosen to be a captain. So don’t let anyone, even that prick, make you feel like you don’t belong here.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“That really got to you during the last game, didn’t it?”
I glance over at him, confused by the vagueness in his statement.
“Not getting a shot on goal,” he clarifies.
“Yeah, it did.” I remember the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I left the field and how I wanted to crawl into a hole rather than head to the pressroom.
And then it just got worse. I wonder if Danny ever played a sport.
I make a mental note to Google him when I get home.
I want to know more of his backstory and what makes him tick.
Maybe that will help me fire back at him during the press conferences.
Or better yet, stay out of his crosshairs.
“Don’t get into your head,” Coach says.
Fuck, he’s still talking. I nod slowly.
“So, you’ll give a pep talk after practice today?” he asks. “I think the players would really enjoy hearing from you.”
“Um, yeah, sure,” I stammer out.
Coach pats me on the back. “I knew I could count on you. Thanks, Mac.”
I nod as he jogs over to the assistant coach, Andrea Chapman.
I almost wish he had sent Andie over to talk to me.
She’s not as intimidating as Coach Watts.
He was a men’s coach before he coached us.
Sometimes I think he forgets that we like a bit of a lighter touch than the men he’s used to coaching.
Or that the slaps on the ass that may have been appropriate when coaching men might not be the best with women.
Hendrix only had to mention it once and he stopped.
Andie is a petite blonde, who, despite her size, made quite a splash in the NWSL, and now she’s back after a very short retirement to coach us.
I’m thankful to have her. She was a defender, has great insight for field view, and has really helped the defense take charge.
You just wouldn’t know it from the last game.
I think about what to tell the team and how to motivate them.
Practice is winding down, and I’ll have to step forward soon and call them to me.
The other players, even my friends, are keeping their distance, but pretty soon I’ll have almost thirty sets of eyes staring at me.
My stomach does a flip thinking about it.
Some of the practice squad players tend to keep their distance from us starters.
I want to tell them not to do that, because I don’t have any more experience playing in this league than they do.
Some of them have even been on teams before, and for that, I have a twinge of imposter syndrome that I was able to come right out of the NCAA and play.
It’s unprecedented. But I think that was part of what Mr. Cromwell was going for with this new team—shock and awe.
We’ve achieved the shock part. We completely shocked them on Saturday night with how little we could score.
“Alright, girls, round up.” Andie is walking toward me and motioning for the team to follow her. “Gather around. Your captain has something she wants to say.” Andie pats me on the back, nodding that it’s my turn to speak.
I clear my throat and look around at the half circle that’s been formed.
I’m at the center of it, and it makes me uneasy.
My stomach flips, and my palms begin to sweat.
I’m suddenly not sure that I’m the best person to say something encouraging to this team.
I still feel like I need a few words of encouragement myself after the last few days.
But my blue eyes meet Cass’s, and she gives me a wink.
“Great practice today, everyone. I saw a lot of heart out there. I want to see the same amount of heart on Saturday. I know it’s only Tuesday, but we’ve gotta get our heads in the game and show every last damn one of them what the Tampa Bay Blaze is made of.
We aren’t going to be that flash-in-the-pan team that everyone is predicting.
We are going to overcome challenges and show them that we belong in the NWSL.
There is so much talent on this team, and more importantly, there is so much heart.
And we will not go without a fight. We are here to stay,” I say, putting my hand out in a fist for everyone to do the same.
“Let’s go, Blaze on three. One, two, three. Blaze.”
The girls all join me, and I think I see some passion in their eyes as they head away from me.
Most of them say bye to me or make a point to tell me it was a great speech.
Some of the second-string girls want to say anything to the captain.
I remember feeling that way too when I was a freshman in college.
I wanted to be known too. My heart goes out to them because I want them to see the field.
Hell, I want everyone to see the field. But if the starters can’t get it together, people will assume the bench can’t either.
I’m lost in thought as I’m taking off my cleats and shin guards. I barely notice Amelia drop down beside me until she starts talking.
“Great job, Mac. Really, you’re doing great things for this team, even if it feels like you aren’t.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “Now, do you wanna go grab some lunch or something? A bunch of us were talking about hitting up Tropical Smoothie.”
I nod. “Yeah, that sounds great.”