CHAPTER 30 #2
The team headed back to the pitch for the second half, while I took my place on the touchline, turning to the substitute striker and asking him to warm-up.
I was seriously contemplating subbing DeShaun.
If not necessarily immediately, then soon in the second half if he didn't improve.
We couldn't afford to go down to 10 men while trailing.
Adams on the right wing created the first chance of the second half on 49 minutes, whipping a ball into the centre for Donaldson to head straight at the goalkeeper.
Our own goalkeeper had to make a save minutes later, denying a clear chance for the Fifers to make it 2-0.
Substitute Jimmy Dunlop stepped off the bench. “Ma'am, may I have a word?”
I nodded, my eyes following DeShaun as he chased a ball from Martin in midfield.
“Who you thinking of bringing off for MacKenzie?”
“Wilkesboro, Jimmy, he's not at the match.”
“He's always our best player, even when he's having an off day.”
DeShaun was easily dispossessed.
“Stick with him, ma'am.”
I gave another nod, but I remained unconvinced.
An East Fife player got the last touch to put the ball out of play, yet the ref signalled for a Fife throw-in. DeShaun shouted at the ref, who seemed in little mood for such defiance and gave him a stern talking to. Donaldson pulled him away, then looked to the bench.
I sent MacKenzie to warm-up again, this time with Dunlop.
McKay powered a header wide from a corner after 60 minutes.
I decided to make a change, irked at how ineffective Black had been alongside Martin in central midfield, and subbed him for Dunlop. “Try to get through to DeShaun,” I said. “If he doesn't do something soon, I'm bringing on MacKenzie.”
“You want me to tell him that?” Jimmy asked.
I nodded.
Dunlop made his first big impact 7 minutes later, beating the offside trap and running deep into the opposition's half with DeShaun alongside him. The defenders had more pace than Dunlop and he quickly played in DeShaun, who poked a wonderful chip over the goalkeeper and into the back of the net.
The offside flag was raised.
“That was never offside!” I squealed.
The Broxburgh players surrounded the ref, but he was in agreement with his assistant. No goal.
DeShaun rasped at the ref.
Dunlop and Donaldson hauled him away.
I couldn't bring myself to look to MacKenzie. DeShaun was a gamble, given where his head was at, but he'd proved he could finish. I had to let him stay on.
The next 10 minutes saw East Fife dominate, carving out two curling shots which McQuillan was equal to. I knew we'd a great goalkeeper in the making in the boy.
Crawford was booked for a foul outside the box. The resultant free-kick was blasted over our goal.
The match clock ticked past 80 minutes.
McQuillan punted a long goal kick up the pitch. DeShaun climbed high to head it on, into the path of Donaldson, only for the forward to fall awkwardly and stay down, clutching his leg and crying out. The ref halted play.
Our physio ran on, as DeShaun shouted at the ref for stopping the game in the middle of a Broxburgh attack. Hilary Duncan checked Donaldson over, then signalled to the bench that his afternoon was over. I substituted him for MacKenzie.
“This is your chance, son,” I said, noticing how masculine I sounded in the moment. “You might get one shot, so take it.”
Fife's manager challenged his players to finish us off and they piled forward, bombarding our defence.
Their striker surged by McKay, then cut inside Crawford in the box.
Crawford tried to take the ball out from under him, but mistimed his tackle and brought the player down.
The ref pointed to the spot for a penalty, then produced a second yellow card for Crawford, followed by a red.
I felt my heart sink and my mascara threaten to run if I didn't hold my emotions in check.
Blair led the protests, but it was no use.
McQuillan pounded his fists together as the crowd behind him encouraged their striker on the spot.
The player took an insane amount of steps back from the ball, no doubt wasting time, then charged into a run, stopping suddenly behind the ball and hitting it with the side of his foot.
McQuillan read his every move, mimicked his motions, and dived into the path of the ball, saving it in his arms. 13 Broxburgh fans at the other end cheered.
But we were still losing as the match entered 4 minutes of injury time.
“Throw everything at them!” I bellowed.
The team listened and pushed up the pitch, McQuillan even venturing out from his area.
I knew what a defeat would mean for the season now. It'd been my decision to pull the plug on the takeover. And mine to fire Kyle and Drew.
Graham went wide on the left, only to be closed down by two Fifers, but he managed to play the ball through them and long into the path of Williamson down the wing.
Every Broxburgh man on the pitch burst forward.
Williamson looked up, saw the colossal of defenders in the box, and cut inside instead of passing.
DeShaun cried out for it in the middle. Williamson took the shot himself, blasting the ball at goal and against one of the 'keeper's legs.
The ball bounced in front of DeShaun, who smacked it back to goal.
A defender on the line got a foot to it, stopping the ball first, then chopping away a clearance.
I hadn't dared look at my mobile to check the scores in the other games.
Martin and Black bossed the midfield, supported by McKay and leaving us open at the back with no Crawford to rely on.
The ball was played left again, searching out and finding Williamson.
He dazzled the defenders, cut inside again and rifled another shot at goal, smashing the top of the crossbar and over.
MacKenzie pointed at the position he'd been in and called for a pass next time instead.
I was doubting there'd be a next time.
Into the 93rd minute and East Fife were happy to put the ball out for a throw-in in our half. Graham took it quickly, trying to play in Williamson, but the Fifers intercepted and hammered it out of play again.
The seconds kept ticking away.
McKay lay the ball back to McQuillan, who hammered his kick high and long, the wind drifting it to the right. An East Fife full-back got his head to it first, but it landed at the feet of our winger, Rory Adams. Adams ran with the ball down the right, then whipped in the cross. It was cleared.
93:12 was on the clock.
Martin drilled the ball up the middle. DeShaun raced to it, outpacing the centre-backs even at his age. Suddenly, he was one-on-one with the advancing goalkeeper coming out to narrow the angle.
“Shoot!” I screamed.
DeShaun played the ball into the path of the advancing MacKenzie. The 'keeper's body was already committed to DeShaun's direction. MacKenzie slid in, striking cleanly and sending the ball pirouetting between the posts to level the score.
I punched the air.
MacKenzie wrestled the ball from the goalkeeper and punted it back for the restart.
I crossed my fingers, hoping for a miracle with only seconds left.
East Fife kicked-off, the forward passing the ball wide to their winger.
Graham tackled him hard, inciting boos from the home crowd, but the ref judged it to be clean while the ball trickled out for an East Fife throw.
The player took his time to take it, launching the ball back into their own half.
DeShaun and MacKenzie chased after it.
The referee blew his whistle. The final score was East Fife 1-1 Broxburgh.
After joining my players on the pitch to applaud the 13 travelling away fans – and seeing something of a mixed response from them to my presence – I let them lead the way back to the dressing room, so I could dive my palm into my pocket for my mobile.
Our promotion rivals had all drawn too.
We remained 5th in the table, 2 points behind the play-off positions, with the last match of the season to be play against Stirling Albion at Lady Macbeth Park in a week's time.
I sucked in a breath of relief.
“Nothing was good enough about today,” Blair said, walking alongside me.
“We're still in the same position we were,” I replied. “It was damage control-”
“We need a coach as soon as possible, Sasha.”
“I agree, but-”
“Listen to me, you've got the obvious choice right there.” He pointed ahead to one of his team-mates. “He's the only one of us who has his coaching badges.”
I sighed. “I don't know if I can trust him. Not after what happened with the leaks to the press-”
“Sasha, wake up. The guy's in love with you. Of course, he wasn't the leak. There's no question whether you can trust him.”
I didn't agree.
“And, more importantly, the boys trust him too. We don't need an outsider coming in now.”