Chapter 04: The last game
The handball
team girls were in circle. They looked to
each other by the corners of the eyes, worried, while the coach dumped
requirements.
“I hope that the embarrassment of the first time does
not repeat in the next one. I did not train you over so many months to lose the
most important game. I hope... No. I demand
more attention, more focus. Where were you with your heads? Some teen soap
opera? Celebrities' gossip?”
No one replied. They kept targeting the ground. They
really had been massacred by the home team. There was no excuse. Were the best
throughout the whole season; defeated the best and worst teams and were now in
the final.
“I want your minds in that game. Today will be the
ultimate night. You have thirty minutes to reverse the score and win that
trophy. Do not make me leave as the coach of the losers. Many will pay if that
happens, you hear me? Especially you. Any comments?”
Not a word. The coach turned to one of them.
“Goalie?”
Daniela was still staring at him. Never lowered her
head to anybody.
“Do not abandon your position again, understand? The
rest of the team is here to do exactly what you did. The only goal. All of you
heard me?” Rhobson spat while raged, a vein leaping in his forehead, red as a
ripe tomato. “Besides defending goals, Daniela needs to do them too?”
“I can handle.” She straightened her fringe behind the ear, her firm
stance.
“The issue is not you handle it or not,” he
interrupted, less hectic. “I know what you are capable to do, my dear. The
point is that we are dealing with a team. In teams, each has its function.
Yours is to stay in the goal and defend. If you had not ventured into the field
in the first half we would not have been bombed. Therefore, one more time,
remain in your position.”
Turning his back to the circle of downcast players,
Rhobson addressed the corridor.
“It is not time to be beaten.” Taking the whistle
hanging on his neck chain, he continued. “It's time to crush. Or I'll crush you.”
At a sign from the trainer, they raised their faces
and stared at each other. Daniela whispered.
“Don't mind him, girls. Let's do what we do best.” Her
infectious smile encouraged her colleagues , as a vaccine
against all the bad energy transmitted by Rhobson.
On the way up to the court, she was explaining
something neither the coach had noticed. On the opposing team there were two
players who did not stand, but were responsible for passes leading to the goal.
Daniela used to perceive the most subtle details and
always helped the team. She was the link that kept them sane after Rhobson
bouts of. Even him could not bash her. She had something in her eyes that
calmed people.
That night, however, all his charisma would be useless
to what would come.
Lights on full power burst from the spotlight around.
Shouts of joy escaped from the crowded bleachers. Such agitation did nothing to
calm down the girls. After all, they were from Araraquara, the visitors. The
fans was supporting the house, Jaboticabal.
Daniela was positioned, concentrating on each
movement, partners and opponents. Never missed a throw. Had taken five goals
due to attempts to score goals. Could not repeat the slip, although it was
slightly hard to concentrate one hundred percent. But she needed to.
The alarm indicated the beginning of the second half.
She felt an itch to get out of his position. First,
because the ball did not come to her in the first five minutes. Second, because
she realized that was exactly the strategy of the enemy team. Stalling as they
could and keep at an advantage. Leering, she noticed that Rhobson had been
aware of the trap. His face was red, contorted in squalling.
Accustomed to the strong light, Daniela risked a quick
peek at the crowd. They were clustered in every part except one. A circle had
formed near the main entrance, where people were moving away. It seemed a
fight. She tried to concentrate on the game, but she failed.
Something sneezed in the white shirt of a guy in the stands. Blood. Lots of
blood. People began to move away even more; however, due to
lack of empty space they fell upon each other. The game could not stop because
of a fight between rednecks, but it was something more serious.
Suddenly the blow. Then darkness.
Voices in the distance.
“Dani. Get up. Quick!”
Hands caught her arms and lifted her up. She risked
opening her eyes, but the right side of her face hurt too much. The blurred
vision showed only running figures. It was not game running. It was something
else.
Screams.
“He's biting me!”
“Help!”
“Blood—”
“What's going on, Tanya?” Daniela fought the feeling
faint. The wallop had been violent.
Tanya, the striker, carried Daniela toward the hallway
that led to the dressing rooms.
“Tanya. Who hit me?”
Daniela did not know that was just whispering the
words. Her partner even realize she was talking. Everything seemed so distant.
The light was replaced by shadows. The screaming echoed somewhere behind.
Breathing weighed increasingly.
As soon as the light broke again, she heard a strange
cry approaching.
It sounded like an animal. Or something worse.
“What—”
With no time to finish the question, Daniela was
thrown on a pile of backpacks. Weakness and pain persisted, dampening her
senses. Before she could turn her face, several mattresses were flung over her
soft body.
Then Tanya screams of fear blended to the bestial
howls.
Lastly, the goalkeeper bowed to unconsciousness.
