Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Andrew said nothing to confirm or deny that interpretation, so Neil stepped out of his way. Andrew continued on, done with this conversation. Renee remained behind with Neil but said nothing else. Neil gazed after Andrew as he considered their take on it. If Andrew was right, Kevin didn't care about goalkeepers because he was a technical player. His focus was on perfecting impossible shots and tricky angles. He played against himself, not the goalkeeper, so the goalie was always an afterthought.
Andrew was right. Neil couldn't play like that. Learning Kevin's tricks was necessary to his development as a player, but Neil could never implement them the exact same way on the court. Neil was too aware of the obstacles and his thrill came in outsmarting his marks. He liked being the better, faster player. He liked frantic plays, close calls, and heart-stopping goals. It didn't have to be pretty or perfect so long as they won in the end.
Understanding took the edge off last night's lingering tension. As Neil relaxed he realized Renee was still watching him. She smiled when Neil looked at her and tipped her head a beckon to come along. They started after Andrew and walked their last lap in comfortable silence.
-
When the Foxes hit the court February 9th, no one was expecting the fight they brought to it. Forty-five minutes into the game, the Catamounts were trailing by three points. On the TV in the Foxes' locker room, the sportscasters were shaking their heads in amazement.
"I'm with you on this one, Marie. I'm not entirely sure who we're looking at now or what they did with last year's Foxes, but they've completely blown me away."
Neil glanced at the TV as he stretched. The two were reporting live from inside the Foxhole Court, a few feet from the Foxes' empty benches. It was hard to hear them over the noise from the stands, especially when Rocky Foxy the mascot when wheeling by.
"Quite honestly, I never expected them to finish the season," Marie said. "The number of setbacks they've endured this year is unbelievable and I was sure they'd bow out in November. It's a serious credit to this year's line-up that they've made it this far. This is the first Fox roster that actually embraces teamwork."
"Indeed," her male counterpart agreed. "This is the kind of synchrony you expect from top-notch schools. A few weeks ago we all laughed when freshman Neil Josten said the Foxes were raring for a rematch with the Ravens. No one's laughing now. If they can keep this momentum and keep playing like they are tonight, they stand a real chance of proceeding to semifinals."
"Ten minutes left of halftime," Marie said. "The score is six-three. It's going to take some serious footwork for the Catamounts to recover. We're less than an hour from seeing if the Foxes can secure their first death match victory. Let's take a look at some highlights from the first half, and then—"
Dan turned the TV off and stood in front of the dark screen. Matt gave her a minute, then touched her shoulder to get her attention. She answered his questioning look with a wry smile.
"It's weird hearing them say good things about us," she said.
"It took them long enough," Allison huffed.
"It took us long enough to earn their consideration," Renee pointed out, not unkindly.
The seniors exchanged a long look, exhausted and triumphant. The Foxes' first line-up had crashed and burned two steps out of the starting gate, and halfway through the season they'd been the laughingstock of the sport. The girls came to Palmetto State University knowing it'd take work to salvage that sour reputation and knowing Wymack was their only ally. Exy was a co-ed sport but women were vastly outnumbered in the NCAA. Even fewer made it to major leagues and professional teams. The school board approved the three on Wymack's say-so but their own teammates made their lives a living hell. Despite every loss and every roadblock, they'd made it, and now they were finally getting the nod they deserved.
"All right," Dan said, turning away from the TV.
Her gaze lingered for a moment on the newest addition to the locker room: a mahogany stand in the corner near Andrew and Neil's picture. She'd said last month she wanted a stand for their eventual championship trophy. Neil thought she'd been talking big to inspire the team, but apparently not. Allison found the perfect one yesterday after dinner. When Neil and Kevin came to the court to practice last night they'd found the upperclassmen getting the stand situated.
Dan smiled, short and fierce, and looked around at her teammates. "I'm in the mood to completely ruin the Catamounts' night. Anyone with me?"
"Let's do it," Matt said with a toothy grin. "What've you got for us, Coach?"
Wymack ran down the first-half pointers as quickly as he could and led them back to the court when the warning buzzer sounded. UVM came out as strong as they could at serve, angered by first half's results and spurred on by their coaches' halftime rants. They were an entirely new monster, but Neil squished his flicker of panic. Losing his cool here would only destroy the Foxes' chances. He focused only on what he and Kevin could control and trusted his teammates to handle their side of court.
Twenty minutes into second half, the score still hadn't budged. Neil and Kevin couldn't get around their fresh backliners, and the UVM strikers couldn't get past Andrew. The game hadn't been friendly before but as tempers flared and patience thinned, play got a little rougher. Neil was used to a bit of back-and-forth shoving with his marks as they waited for the ball to come their way, but this aggressive pushing had him skidding across the floor. Neil gritted his teeth and pushed back, but his backliner had a half-foot and forty pounds on him; he wasn't going anywhere without some violence.
A fight was coming; they all knew it. It was just a toss-up as to which player snapped first. Surprisingly—or not—it was Andrew.