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She plays when I say she plays.
Beth rolled her eyes at Rio’s text, at the smugness dripping off his words. She battled him so many times - for money, for control, for power. But she could have never imagined fighting with him about Jane’s playing time in her youth soccer games.
But here she was on a Saturday morning, watching Jane, Marcus and a dozen other sweet kids warm up on the field, carefree, laughing and unbothered by the pressure of being one win away from a league championship. At the center of it all was Rio, cutting a striking figure in the middle of kicking drills and stretching. By his side, clipboard and whistle in hand, was Annie.
When the league put out a plea for coaches, the last people Beth ever expected to sign up were Rio and Annie. An opportunity to teach kids life lessons not just soccer technique! the director’s email exclaimed, trying to find at least a few parents willing to take on a dozen 6 to 8 year-olds twice a week for practice and games every Saturday.
“Wanna spend more time with my kid,” Rio said when Beth casually asked him about it after seeing the league roster announcements.
“Can’t a girl hang with her niece and give back to her community?” Annie asked. The success of her GED breathed new life into Annie who was more determined than ever to become an EMT, an involved mom and aunt, and helpful sister. The volunteer slots on Ben’s lacrosse team were already filled so Annie latched onto Jane’s soccer team as soon as she saw the flyer on Beth’s kitchen counter.
Beth’s mind never quite caught up to the reality of Rio as Jane’s soccer coach and Annie as his assistant. Or how well they worked together, leading their scrappy team to the championship game.
While Rio refused to wear the matching t-shirts Annie ordered for them with You don’t scare me, I coach youth soccer printed across the front, they made a good pair, complemented each other in all the right ways. Rio knew the sport and was firm and fair with the kids, his tough love approach helping them learn the game while keeping it fun. As she watched Rio from the bleachers, Beth was reminded of the first time she saw him in his warehouse. Instead of fake cash he was surrounded by kids, but he moved around the field with the same confidence, control and swagger. There was no questioning who was in charge.
Annie, on the other hand, made up for her lack of soccer knowledge with enthusiasm, buzzing around with a frenetic energy. She didn’t know the difference between a corner kick and a cross kick, but she was a great cheerleader and always lifted the kids’ spirits after a tough loss, showering them with compliments and high fives. Somehow she made “You Should Be Sad” by Halsey the team’s unofficial anthem, all of the kids shouting the chorus in unison every time. “I feel so sorry, I feel so sad, I tried to help you, It just made you mad.”
“It’s fiiiine. They like how it rhymes. Besides, there’s no swear words,” Annie said when Beth suggested a more child-appropriate song choice. Beth intervened with Annie’s unusual tactics only once when she overhead her talking to Jane about the best player from their biggest rival. Jane, with her usual confidence, wasn’t worried.
“I’m faster than her. She’s like a turtle,” Jane giggled, mimicking slow swimming movements with her arms.
“Words hurt,” Annie told her. “But not as bad as cleats to the leg. Take her down.”
“Your aunt is joking, Jane. Don’t ever do that,” Beth glared at Annie and texted her later that night to insist she didn’t give that advice to any other kids.
Even though Beth would have done things differently, she loved seeing this side of Annie. When her sister focused and committed she could move mountains. Who cared if her team song was about an unfaithful ex or that she snuck in Starburst candies with the half-time orange slices. The kids adored her, always leaving with a smile even if they came to her in tears.
Beth resisted seeing the gentler, softer side of Rio that revealed itself as he coached. The tender pats on the head, the encouraging tone of his voice, the compassionate way he pushed the kids to do more than they thought they could. It confused her, conflicted with how Rio existed in her mind, with how she wanted and needed him to be. It was easier to think of him as this dangerous, deadly, mysterious presence that she needed to get rid of rather than a vibrant and normal father, coach, grandson, brother. Or was it cousin?
Beth wasn’t usually one of those helicopter parents who tried to live out their own athletic fantasies vicariously through their kids. She was grateful for the coaches who volunteered to deal with high-maintenance parents who thought they were raising the next Cristiano Ronaldo. But Beth was taking Jane’s playing time personally. More because of the messenger rather than the message. Rio benched Jane for most of the last game and offered no explanation. Was it because she wasn’t playing well enough? Or something else? Just like always, Beth never quite knew what was business and what was personal between them.
In all honesty, Jane was happy simply being with her friends, especially Marcus, even if it was making up silly cheers from the bench. But she was the team’s superstar forward after all. While Danny cried every time the ball hit his foot, Jane loved being in the middle of the action. Her fast, fearless and fierce child. This wasn’t about a tiny trophy for Jane to put on her bookcase. Ever since their drag-out fight over the TV when Dean was in prison. Ever since Stan’s words cut her heart so deeply she still felt them rattling around in her chest. Ever since all that, Beth was determined to be a good mother, a good person. And a good mother didn’t let her kid’s talent get ignored.
“He’s the coach,” Annie said with a shrug when Beth mentioned how they almost lost the last game with Jane on the bench. “He knows what he’s doing.”
Beth could only blink in stunned silence at Annie taking Rio’s side on...anything, casually popping pretzels in her mouth as if his “gangfriend” nickname hadn’t started with her. Had Rio become simply Annie’s...friend?
Jane was no help either when she tried to subtly dig for information.
“It’s okay, Mom. Coach Rio says I’m a super star. He’s the best.”
Beth tried talking to Rio but he did to her what he did to every parent who attempted to shoe-horn into his game plans. He crossed his arms and nodded politely but dismissively, inviting no further conversation. Most took the hint and stuck to the sidelines. And that’s what Beth did too, knowing that if she pushed too much Rio would dig in twice as hard.
As Beth settled into the stands with a blanket and cup of coffee to watch the game, she scanned the field and found Jane by the team’s bench, practicing the Iko Iko Tik Tok dance with Marcus that they’d both become obsessed with. They looked happy and relaxed. Beth reminded herself that’s all that mattered. But when the starting whistle blew and Jane ran to the middle of the field for the kick off Beth cheered so loud she swore even Rio looked up at her from across the field.
Jane played most of the game and even scored the winning goal in a come-from-behind victory that turned the rest of the day into a blur of celebrating and confetti cans and streamer spray and Annie corralling the kids onto the team bus to get ice cream.
After the whirlwind, Beth found Rio alone on the field, picking up trash, and cones and forgotten water bottles. The unglamorous side of coaching and PTA fundraisers and bake sales that most people never saw.
“Need some help?” she asked, grabbing a trash bag without letting him answer.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Great game.”
It was an understatement, but Rio wouldn’t want anything more. He celebrated with a simple fist pump as chaos broke out all around him - kids swarming the field, Annie bear hugging him almost to the ground while singing “We Are the Champions.”
He looked tired but content as he packed the team’s equipment bags. Beth looked away, wanting no reminders about how strong his arms were, especially when those arms were connected to big hands, with long capable fingers.
“The kids played hard. They deserved it.”
“The only thing you can control is how hard you play, right?” Beth asked, using one of the inspirational sayings she’d heard Rio use with the kids.
“Yeah. Sometimes you can play too hard though.”
Beth squinted in confusion as she filled her trash bag with discarded cups and hair ties and food wrappers, unsure how to respond. She never heard that catchphrase from Rio before.
“She needed rest.”
“What? Who?”
“Jane. She’s good. She’s intense. But it was starting to catch up with her. She was tired, getting cramps. That’s why I sat her. Wanted her rested for the big game.”
Beth’s instinct was to fire back, to ask why he didn’t simply tell her that, why he always made everything so difficult. But she let it drop. Tonight was about the kids, and him, and Annie and what they accomplished. She didn’t need to make it about herself. Stan’s words once again surfacing no matter how hard she tried to shake them off.
“Wanna play?” Rio asked, tossing her a soccer ball.
“No.”
“C’mon. Let’s see what you got.” His expression was serious, but there was a lightness in his voice, the smallest smile at the corner of his lips that let Beth know this wasn’t like when he challenged her to sink the 8-ball in a game for Dean’s freedom. He was being...playful.
“I’ve never played soccer.”
“I’ll teach you.”
With those three words Beth immediately catapulted into the past, to the last time he said that to her. To that strange night she found catharsis with a stop sign, when she thought her life was ending but instead Rio offered her a gun and a lesson.
He nodded to the field and wordlessly led her to one of the goals. He pointed for her to stand on a white line and turned to face her, acting as the goalie.
In the same firm, even voice he used to teach her how to fire a gun, Rio walked her through the basics of kicking a soccer ball. He showed her how to point her toes and lock her ankle so that her foot controlled the ball movement. He told her to never pass on her toes, to always use the inside of her shoe because the wider surface area made kicks more accurate. Don’t forget your planter foot, he said tapping her left leg. Point it where you want the ball to end up.
Just like that Beth was kicking the ball hard and straight into the goal. Rio was a good coach. She could see why the kids loved him, why they played hard for him, why they won the championship. He offered encouragement, made it easy to overcome their fears, understand the game, understand their roles.
If only it was the same with her. Maybe one day they’d get there.