Take a Look At Yourself

"Harrison!" Coach yelled, opening his office door as I pulled my cleats off. "Get in here."

It was rare that the coach talked to us like that. It was even more rare that he pulled us into his office. If we got pulled into his office, it meant we were in a lot of trouble. Usually the reason most girls got pulled into Coach's office was because they were failing a class and would be ineligible for play. I knew my grades were good. They were the entire reason I was in school. So what had I done?

Entering the office, I shut the door. Coach was adamant about leaving it open, but if I was in trouble, I didn't want anyone in my business. What happened between me and Coach needed to be between the two of us.

"Sit down, Carmen." He pulled out a folder. "We've been talking with the local newspaper. They're really impressed by our opening day against the Aggies. They want to interview you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess: I need to be on my best behavior?"

"Damn right. Interview is after practice."
*************************************************************************************************************
Sweat poured down my face, making it hard to see. I rarely sweated, so I hated that I was. That was life in the south though. Half the time you were sweating your ass off from the heat and humidity and the other half of the time you were dying from the dry heat. It was fucking insanity.

The reporter was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt. He had this air about him like he was better than everyone. Truth be told, I wasn't the biggest fan of the media. The way they portrayed soccer versus football was just annoying. I knew that he didn't want to be here because his piece would just wind up shoved way back into the paper.

"Hello, Miss Harrison. My name is Jacob Stuart. Ready for the interview?"

Pushing my sweaty ponytail out of the way, I nodded my head. I don't know why the newspaper wanted to interview me. I was just one cog in the machine. If anyone deserved to be interviewed it was our goalie or our coach. I was just a mediocre defense player.

"Alright, how did you come to be at the University of Tennessee?"

"The dream was always either University of Tennessee or the Tar Heels. What it boiled down to was that Tennessee had the right program for academics and for soccer. I knew that under our coach, I would find the right rhythm to play the game I wanted to play."

He scratched onto a paper, nodding his head. "How long have you played soccer and what got you involved in it?"

"I've played soccer since I was four years old. It's a sport everyone plays, something your parents get you involved in. But I had a passion for it. I may be small, but soccer is something that makes me feel alive. Soccer is about speed, precision, and teamwork. But none of that works without passion."

"And what gave you that passion?"

Chuckling, I paused to think about my answer. "Everything I do in my life, I do with a passion. I started playing soccer with a passion because I love the game. When parents see me play, they always comment on my heart for the game. Passion is drive, in my opinion."

"Your the captain of the team. How did you help lead the team to victory?" the reporter asked.

"Like I told coach, I'm just one cog in the machine. It's an honor to be captain, and I'm not sure I earned that privilege. As a sweeper, my job is to be the last line of defense before the goalie. I chase down the players and get the ball back up the field. It's my job to keep the ball moving and prevent shots. All I did to help my team is what any of my fellow teammates would do, I played my best game."

He nodded again. "One last question. We hear there's a rivalry between the football and soccer team. Why do you think that is?"

I knew I needed to tread carefully here. Coach would not appreciate me being overly honest. "Truth be told, there's rivalry between lots of sports. I think it's just that we play during the same season and the football boys can be a little rambunctious when we practice. They're great guys, but sometimes, we just want a little room to run, you know?"

"Thank you, Carmen." He shook my hand and finished scribbling down his notes.

I nodded and headed back to the locker room. Hopefully that went better than what I felt like it did. Reporters had a way of twisting words.

Notes

Short but an update. It'll wind up being an important one!