Chapter 15
A Distraction in the Booth
Olli
As we broke from the lineup to take our positions on the field, the stadium announcers started their usual banter.
I normally tuned them out; Marshall was kind of a pretentious prick with a chip on his shoulder, though for a fair reason, and Lowery just talked so slowly, he’d put me to sleep if I wasn’t on the field.
Except today, it wasn’t their usual banter. It wasn’t even just the two of them.
“So Kodi, you’re the one who dragged our loner of a keeper on to social media and with one hell of post. How’d you do it? How’d you get that grump to open up?”
My head snapped up to the announcer window, but it was too far for me to make out if Kodi was really up there or not.
“Oh I didn’t do that much. What really opened him up was Liam’s account. You can’t underestimate what fans can do for a player. Even if they don’t go on socials much, like Kean, your support means the world. After all, without the fans, major league soccer wouldn’t exist.”
The crowd went wild for Kodi’s response and my jaw dropped.
Kodi was really up there. She was talking to Lowery and Marshall like it was totally normal. Talking about me.
I didn’t have the words to describe what I was feeling, but whatever it was, I didn’t like it.
“What’s your girl doing up there?” Fuller shouted at me. He and Taylor were the fullbacks and the only ones in talking range while Christenson did the coin toss with the ref and the other team captain.
“No clue,” I grumbled, eyes now glued to the screen at the top center of the field which showed Kodi in the announcer's booth. She was wearing an older jersey, a design that was retired before any of the current player’s started.
Well, before I started. Whoever’s jersey it was, they were probably retired.
But it was my number. My number but not my name.
My brain, the evolved part of it at least, could understand what was happening.
Kodi grew up in the area, she’s always liked soccer.
Of course she’d have a jersey or two in her closet.
And while we were on better footing, we weren’t exactly friends yet.
Or back to being friends yet. So why would she go out and buy a new jersey, my jersey, to wear to the game instead of the one she already owns?
But another part of me, the part of me that took over when Kodi was crying or when she said the word ‘satisfied,’ the bone deep, primal part, that part said she should be wearing my name. My PA, my childhood friend, my goddamn first crush, she should be wearing my jersey.
“Dude, I think Kean’s gonna blow a gasket,” Fuller joked to Taylor.
The other man shook his head at me and said, “Focus up, man. We’re starting soon.”
“I am focused,” I lied. The cameras moved to the field, so my eyes flicked up to the booth. I couldn’t see shit, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away either. I wanted to know what she was doing, if she was watching me, what she was thinking.
But then the whistle sounded and I locked back in, vaguely aware of Taylor muttering something like it was about time.
Being a keeper was sometimes a lonely position, especially in games like these, where the other team’s defense was …
inexperienced. Boston had gone through a near complete overhaul between seasons; new manager, new coach, and damn near new roster.
And while none of the players were bad in a technical sense, they weren’t a team yet. They couldn’t get in sync.
And my team was taking advantage of that.
Which was good for the team, but meant I was alone by the goal, braced for nothing.
After we made five goals, my focus dipped. And the second I wasn’t fully focused on the game, my eyes went to the screen. Just in case they cut back to the booth, to Kodi.
The camera was on Carter and Ricci as they passed around the Bruisers' fullback. But then it switched to the announcer booth and there was Kodi. She’d stood up, hands on the table to lean forward to watch the game.
Then a cannon sound went off from our pirate mascot, signaling a Dastards’ goal, and Kodi shot up, pumped her fists, and danced around in a circle.
“So, do you think your boy is actually gonna get a chance to do anything in this game?” Marshall asked once Kodi settled back down.
“Oh, well …” Kodi dragged out the word, nose crinkling.
“You can’t ask an inexperienced announcer to talk bad about the opponents on their first day,” Lowery said with a laugh.
“They’re not bad,” Kodi argued. “They just don’t have the coordination they need to take on a team like the Dastards.”
“And you’ve been a fan of the Dastards a long time, yeah? I don’t think even I recognize that jersey you're wearing. Turn around and show the camera, if you don’t mind.”
Kodi hopped back up and turned around, pinching the jersey by her shoulders so the name across her back was clear. Trevino. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“So Trevino was the keeper for the Dastards in the early aughts. But specifically, he was the keeper for my very first soccer game. I was … I dunno, in third grade, and my parents took me and my best friend here for a game. We sat right behind the goal and watching Trevino play was just … god, it was a magical.” Kodi sat back down, eyes sparkling.
“My friend was already obsessed with soccer and we’d play all day in the summer.
But at that point, I was only playing because he liked it and I liked him. ”
I think I might have a heart attack.
“But that game was when I really fell in love with the sport. The other team was tough competition and they were constantly in the box. But Trevino blocked every single goal. It was incredible! And right before the end of the first half, one ball hit the bar and flew right into my lap. Trevino jumped the wall to come get it but when he saw a little kid holding on to the ball like a teddy bear, he couldn’t take it away from me. ”
I can’t believe I forgot about that. It was the first time I’d gone to a professional game, the first and only time I’d ever gone on a family outing, even if it wasn’t my family. And catching a ball was just the cherry on top of that day. They even sent us home in jerseys.
“And when Trevino finally retired … ten years ago, maybe more — I broke down. Like, I was completely heartbroken. So I scrounged up every dollar under the couch, broke my piggy bank, mowed lawns, did anything I could think of so I could buy Trevino’s last jersey.
And this might tell you a little too much about me, but I did specifically buy one a few sizes too big so that I wouldn’t grow out of it immediately. ”
“That’s incredible,” Marshall whispered.
“Talk about a dedicated fan.”
“Too bad cellphones weren’t as good back then, I’m sure you would’ve gone viral over that, too,” Marshall joked and Kodi’s face went pink. He laughed, waving a hand. “Sorry, sorry. Just a joke.”
My brows furrowed together as I tried to piece together what Marshall meant by that.
I mean, sure, that moment would’ve gone viral if that was a thing back then, cute kids always did.
But there wasn’t another moment she could’ve gone viral for.
We’d only gone to that one game. So what was he talking about?
“Kean!” somebody shouted and I snapped back into the game to see the opposing team’s striker and attacking midfielder heading right for me with the ball, Taylor and Fuller too far behind to make a difference.
The midfielder shot and in a rush, I jumped to block the ball and I felt my finger brush against it right before my head hit the bar.