Double Fake Read Free Page B

out of the large mesh bag and dropped it at his feet. Several of his teammates were already dribbling along the sideline, but Calvin was the fastest player on the team. He zipped around the corner flag and behind the goal, working the ball with both feet and keeping it as close as he could. It got away from him as he dribbled around the corner, but he recovered it and sprinted up the sideline, passing Orlando, a taller black kid who was fast, but was struggling with the ball. Calvin smiled when he saw the number 0 on the back of the only player still running ahead of him.
    “Save some energy,” Zero said as Calvin flew past.
    “I got plenty,” Calvin replied.
    The Grotto players were outfitted in dark blue T-shirts. They were in pairs or groups of three, passing the balls back and forth near the middle of the field. It looked as if they had some good players. Calvin still wasn’t sure about his own team. Little Italy had a lot of eleven-year-olds, and a few of them weren’t very athletic.
    Coach put Calvin at sweeper for the first half, with Zero at goalie.
    “We may get shell-shocked back here,” Calvin said softly as they jogged onto the field. He was looking toward Little Italy’s front line—Victor Alvarez, Peter Leung, and Briana Torres. None of the three was taller than five feet.
    “That’s what we’re here for,” Zero said. “Look—keep it close this half, then we’ll pound ’em later when we move up on offense.”
    Calvin’s concerns proved to be valid. The Little Italy front-line players seemed confused and hurried, swiping at the ball as soon as it came by, booting it up the field but rarely toward a teammate.
    The Grotto had some quick players who put the pressure on and kept it up. Calvin twice cleared the ball away from the front of the goal, and Zero made a couple of saves. But the Grotto’s tall, red-haired striker eventually took a nice centering pass from the wing, gave a fake and dribbled around Orlando, then fired the ball into the net as Zero dove in vain.
    Coach Diaz called the players over before they lined up for the kickoff.
    “We have to establish some offense,” he said. “We can’t just kick it hard every time the ball comes to us. Make some good short passes—just try to get into the rhythm of the game. You can pass backwards, you know.
    “Midfielders, call for the ball. That’s what I mean by support—let them know where you are. You guys aren’t talking at all.”
    Coach gave a big smile as he sent them onto the field. “I like the effort,” he said. “But let’s use our brains, too.”
    Peter took the kickoff and made a short pass toward Briana, who trapped the ball, pivoted, and passed back to midfielder Angel Medina. Angel was short and wiry, with olive skin and close-cropped hair. He dribbled a few steps, then made another short pass, this one about ten yards across the field to Mary.
    “Support!” yelled Calvin, who had moved up the field. Mary made a nice grass-cutting pass back to him, and Calvin fielded it and surveyed the situation.
    Victor, Mary, and Peter were clumped up about ten yards in front of Calvin. “Spread out!” he said firmly, darting to his right. He had room to dribble, but a couple of Grotto players were closing in.
    Calvin saw Angel ahead of him near the sideline and made a crisp pass in his direction. Angel moved toward the ball and trapped it, then put on a burst of speed. Coach Diaz clapped his hands as Angel ran by. “That’s the way,” he called. “Short passes to move the ball!”
    Little Italy didn’t come close to scoring the rest of the half, but the competition seemed much more balanced. The Grotto made a couple of runs at the goal, but the defense closed ranks, and Zero made two more saves. At halftime, the score was still only 1-0.
    “Much better,” Coach said as the players sucked on orange slices and swigged water near the wooden bench. “Keep passing. Keep hustling. We’ll put more speed up front this