Free Kick by Walter Dean Myers

couldn’t handle Travis. He was getting intimidated, and beaten to the ball. As soon as Ricky received the ball, Travis would push him with his shoulders down. If Sergeant Brown had been at the game, I’d have had to explain that this was considered a fair move. Travis was built like a tank, and he acted like one. But I could have handled him, if Coach had put me in.
    But Merredin’s forwards couldn’t penetrate our defense. One of their forwards hit a powerful shot from outside the box and Nick dove for it. The post rang as the ball hit it dead on and bounced off. Nick got up from the ground and recovered the ball.
    That kid can kick, I thought.
    Ricky was chickening out big-time. He would give Robby the ball as soon as he received it to avoid getting hit. Travis picked up on this and was double-teaming Robby. Robby was an okay player. He was always tripping over himself and was a little clumsy and uncoordinated, running with his arms flailing, but he tried really hard so nobody minded. We all liked Robby.
    Two minutes later Travis and another defender switched guys, which put Travis on Robby. As soon as Robby got the ball, Travis nailed him right in the calves. He tumbled to the ground, clutching his legs.
    â€œKevin, get ready!” Coach yelled. He walked onto the field to check on Robby.
    It’s about time, I thought. I jumped up from the bench and tucked in my shirt. Now I’d show him. I had to score. I was going to score.
    Robby limped off the field with Coach, and I ran into position. I knew that if I could pull this off, it would have to be with my speed.
    Travis switched back to defend Ricky. The first time I got the ball, I dribbled toward a defender, who knocked the ball away. I ran back and tackled him from behind.
    The ref blew his whistle.
    â€œNumber thirteen, watch the tackles from behind!” he called to me.
    Travis switched from Ricky over to me and gave me a grin.
    Ty passed me the ball. Ricky was wide open. I wasn’t going to pass the ball to Ricky, because I wanted to show Travis and Coach that they were wrong about me. I took the ball and went at him. I knew what I wanted to do.
    The move, if you do it right, works and looks great. If you screw it up, you look like a fool.
    I couldn’t let Travis get a good look at the ball. I put my right foot on top of the ball, then quickly turned my back and spun the ball with my left. I heard a bunch of oohs and aahs from the spectators. Travis came right behind me and slid into me, hard. I fell to the ground, and the ref blew the whistle. He held up a yellow card.
    â€œIf I have to warn you again, you’ll be gone, number four!”
    Travis cursed just loud enough for me to hear him.
    I got up and was about to clock Travis but stopped myself in time. I wasn’t going to go there again. I thought of Sergeant Brown’s reminder. There was too much at stake for me to lose my temper. I walked away and got into position.
    The ref gave our team a free kick. Cal placed the ball down. He raised his hand as his foot connected with the ball. No one even touched the ball as it glided into the net under the diving goalie.
    I looked at Coach while the rest of the team cheered. He was smiling—an expression we’d rarely seen since the game had started.
    Next possession we got the ball and I went to the outside of the field, the flank, to receive it. Ricky was open, but my plan was to run down the field and then cross the ball in to Ricky for the goal. I breezed by everyone and went toward the goal. I wanted this goal for myself, but Ricky was on the other side of the goalie, running with a defender. I drew out the goalie, taking the ball almost out of bounds next to the side of the net before I made a short quick pass with the outside of my right foot to Ricky, who tapped it into the net with his toe.
    Ricky and I slapped hands and jumped up, bumping our chests together, as the rest of the kids surrounded