Cory's in Goal

Cory's in Goal

  By Chris Hampton

  Copyright 2014 Chris Hampton

  Edited by Morgan Chinnock

  Cover Design by Renee Barratt at The Cover Counts

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 1

  “Keeper’s ball!” shouted Gray Pritchard, Grandview High's All-League goalkeeper.

  He flew up out of a tangle of players in front of the goalmouth and snatched the ball out of the air, once again snuffing out the Riverside attack.

  The Grandview players moved the ball around like a well-oiled machine. The team clearly knew each other. They also knew this was their year. Some of the boys had played for the varsity team all four years. Others for two and three. Now they were ready to give the perennial league champions, West High, a run for the title. And with Gray Pritchard in goal the championship was achievable, barring some unforeseen disaster. And that wouldn't happen as far as these boys were concerned. Everyone was psyched and expected a great year, including Coach Quinn.

  Gray gathered the ball into his chest and landed on his side, the ball safely tucked away. Jumping up, he spun and quickly threw it out to the flank where Grandview's right fullback, Jeff Shue, prowled near the touchline. Jeff was medium height, slender, and quick. One of the fastest on the team. He trapped the pass in one smooth movement and easily directed the ball upfield toward the midline, crossing it with no challenge yet from a Riverside opponent.

  Shifting over to support Jeff was Brett McCain, another speedy player at center half. Brett and Jeff were tight and worked well together.

  "Shue!” Brett shouted, sprinting toward Jeff. “Inside!”

  At that moment, a Riverside fullback slid in to tackle Jeff. Before the fullback hit the ball, though, Jeff clipped a crisp pass over to Brett and leaped into the air, his sandy shoulder-length hair swirling like a lion's mane. The fullback slid harmlessly past him.

  “Switch sides, Brett!” Jeff shouted, landing a few feet from the sprawling fullback then moving upfield with the play. Brett let Jeff’s pass go through his legs, spun after it, exploded past a defender, and dribbled towards the goal. Another defender came up to challenge Jeff, so he quickly passed to an open space where Plug, the stocky, redheaded left wing, cut across the field like a shark on attack.

  Plug bolted past the defender and was on the ball, in full control, beelining to goal. A one-on-one with the Riverside goalkeeper!

  As Plug closed in, the ‘keeper ran out to stop him. But, in his panic, he came out too far, too fast. Plug saw the move, adjusted down his speed, and deftly chipped the ball over the ‘keeper’s head. The Riverside ‘keeper sprawled backward and watched helplessly as the ball sailed over his head, dropped to the goal line, and bounced in. The score: Grandview 1, Riverside 0.

  The home crowd roared its approval, even with only half the homeside bleachers filled with spectators. This was a typical game crowd, as many of the parents worked until 5:00 or 6:00 in the afternoon and only made the one or two night games each season. Gray's dad owned a string of local pizza delivery places and was always at the games. But many of the other players, like Tim's father and Jeff's parents, worked up at the cement plant at the foot of the San Bernardino mountains and weren't able to make it down in time for the afternoon games. The plant was one of the largest employers in the area. It did allow parents early time off for special occasions like a championship, but for regular season it was mostly the same dedicated fans for each game.

  The Grandview players slapped high fives and jogged back to restart the game. The Riverside bleachers, on the opposite side with even fewer spectators, were quiet with disappointment, their sidelines peppered with hanging heads. On the home side, Coach Quinn clapped as he stood in front of his own bench of backup players, satisfied. The bench players smiled, looking on with anticipation. Everyone on Grandview nodded in the confidence that this would be another easy win. One more opponent to cast aside on the road to the championship.

  Grandview High was located in one of the many high desert towns of Southern California. It was a landscape of dirt. Scattered over the sun-baked ground was creosote bushes, tumbleweeds, and occasional Joshua Trees fighting for space where sprawling neighborhoods had sprung up over the years. Everything was spread out here. Even the town itself was hard to locate with all the big box stores and fast food restaurants crouched around stoplights at the various isolated intersections, connected only by vacant alfalfa fields and rambling neighborhoods.

  The soccer pitch at Grandview High was one of the few islands of green in the area, shining like an emerald lake stuck in the middle of a brown, dusty moonscape. Keeping it green during soccer season was always a challenge, but high priority for the school and Coach Quinn. The boys liked their field and felt it gave them a hometown advantage over the bumpy and rocky fields of the other schools. Today was no different with both teams jogging out onto the green carpet of grass after the short halftime break.

  As the second half started, the score was still the same. Grandview had clearly controlled the first half and expected to continue the pressure on Riverside in the second half.

  Suddenly, a Riverside wing was free down the right side, pushing the ball five feet in front and then chasing after it. From the far corner, he quickly crossed into Grandview’s goalie box. Gray Pritchard’s goalie box. It was dangerously high, dropping twelve yards out from goal. Most goalkeepers hesitate to go out in this no-man's land, but not Gray. He quickly shot off his line, confident of capturing the cross.

  At the same time, a Riverside forward ran full speed into the box, his objective: to beat the ‘keeper to the ball and score! Gray leaped up to catch the ball at the same time the Riverside striker jumped to head it. Gray was quicker and higher in the air, and when they made contact, the stricker clipped his legs. Gray’s body twisted out sideways, his left leg trailing down and taking the weight of his fall.

  “CRACK!”

  The sound shot through the stadium. The Grandview bench jumped up in horror. Gray went down in a heap, letting go of the ball and grabbing his left ankle. Jeff quickly kicked the ball out of bounds, then kneeled next to his fallen teammate. The rest of the Grandview players quickly gathered around Gray as the referee blew his whistle and signaled for Coach Quinn to come onto the field and check his player. The Riverside striker was carded by the ref, as Gray, his face a picture of pain, held his ankle with both hands. It was bad. The outside was swelling quickly. Coach Quinn gingerly touched the ankle, probing for a broken bone. Quinn's bulldog face showed his concern.

  “Shue," Quinn said, looking up. "Let’s get him off the field. He won’t be playing anymore today.”

  Jeff crouched down and draped Gray’s left arm around his shoulders. Quinn did the same with Gray’s right arm. They carried the ‘keeper to the bench, the electric atmosphere of the game gone now. On the field, the players stood motionless. The Grandview players were stunned at this sudden change of fortune.

  As Quinn and Jeff reached the bench, Gray hobbling badly, Gray’s father and older brother rushed down from the bleachers. They took over supporting Gray. Quinn spoke qui
etly to Mr. Pritchard, then walked over to the bench, as Mr. Pritchard and his oldest son helped Gray to the family car. The players on the bench looked expectantly at Quinn. He only stood quietly, looking at the ground.

  Coach Quinn was medium height, but powerfully built. He wore his jet black hair cropped close, in what the boys affectionately called Coach Q's buzz-cut, a touch of gray at the ears. A hard driver, Quinn had earned the boys' appreciation with his calm yet determined approach to the sport. During games, he could be seen standing in front of the bench intently focused on the flow, the ups and downs, of the opposing teams and working on a strategy to secure the win. A strong and dependable mentor, Quinn could be counted on to rally the team when needed. With Gray off the pitch and on his way to the hospital, now was one of those times.

  “Towson!” Quinn suddenly barked, looking to the far end of the bench. “You’re in goal." Quinn walked over to his backup goalkeeper, Cory Towson, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don’t take any chances out there, son.”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Cory, pulling on his goalie gloves and running onto the field.

  Cory was new to the team. Just before school started, he had moved to Grandview from a small town in Utah. He didn't really know the other players, was not a part of the tight-knit squad, and his experience amounted to one season as goalkeeper for a rec team back in Utah.

  The team in Utah was nothing like this skilled Grandview team. They weren't as serious about the game. His old team was more interested in just playing, having fun-not winning. As the backup 'keeper here at Grandview, Cory liked his role sitting on the bench and watching Gray show what a real goalkeeper could do. This let Cory improve at his own pace.

  Now, he felt numb as he ran to the goal, fumbling with the velcro straps on his goalie gloves. This wasn’t right. In an instant, he'd become the new goalkeeper, at least for this game, and he realized the sinking feeling in his stomach was fear.

  Ten minutes to go in the game. "Hang on and keep the ball out of the net," he told himself as he stood awkwardly in front of the goal. He could feel the Grandview crowd watching him, wondering if he had what it would take to replace Gray.

  "Shit," he mumbled to no one.

  The referee awarded a free kick to Grandview to restart the game. As the ball moved upfield, Cory could clearly see the battle for possession in the midfield.

  “Please," Cory whispered. "Stay there.”

  To protect their lead, Quinn dropped two forwards back to add strength to the defense. The strategy was to hang on to the one-goal lead and play out the clock. Cory watched the battle intently, constantly trying to calculate the remaining time before the final whistle. It had to be close.

  Suddenly, a Riverside striker bolted past Tim Turner, Grandview's sweeper, and ran on to chase a long pass from the midfield. The pass had been quick and over Tim's head. The Riverside forward was free and by himself. With the ball. He came straight at Cory, one-on-on! Cory had never stopped a one-on-one.

  The striker raced with the ball, closer to Cory with every other step. Cory could see Jeff desperately sprinting back to help, but the Riverside striker was now at the top of the box. Jeff and the other Grandview defenders were too late!

  Cory’s mind went blank. How do you stop a one-on-one? Panicking, he rushed off his line straight at the striker. He didn’t know what else to do. The forward cocked his leg back as if to shoot and, as he did, Cory tripped and hit the ground, face first. Both hands sprawled in front of him. Desperately, he reached out for the ball. The Riverside striker simply faked the shot, moved the ball to the left of Cory, and shot it into the goal. Cory instinctively tried grabbing the forward’s feet, but ended up grabbing air instead. The striker threw his arm up in triumph as the ball hit the back of the net.

  The score was tied.

  The Riverside bench erupted, ecstatic over their good fortune as Cory slowly picked himself up off the grass. The referee blew the whistle. Time had run out. The game was over. In front of the goal, the Riverside players slapped their striker on the back, celebrating. The Grandview players stood in shock. Some squatted where they had stopped on the field. Others held their head in their hands in disbelief. A tie was as bad as a loss to Grandview, and now they had some rookie in goal.

  Cory walked over to the bench, dirt caked down the front of his shirt, a rip in the left knee of his goalie pants. He wanted to crawl away. Anywhere but this place. The game was a tie, and it was his fault. Cory knew how much Quinn and the boys wanted the league title. It’s all they talked about, lived for. A tie only made it that much harder to reach. No one felt that pressure more than Cory Towson.