A Goal for Joaquin Page 4
“Sounds like the way Coach treats Mike Weathers this year.” Joaquin cut in.
“It’s probably the same idea,” Jessica continued, “Only everybody knows Mike isn’t that good of player. As long as the team lets Mike take all the shots, there’s no threat to Jake’s scoring records. As long as Coach Sommers controls everything on the field, Jake will be Lakeshore’s hero forever.”
“You really think a coach would jeopardize his team just to protect his kid’s records?”
“If you know Coach Sommers, you don’t even have to ask that question. Why do you think you’re sitting on the bench every game instead of starting at forward where you belong? If Coach lets you play, everybody will see that you’re a lot better player than Jake. Coach Sommers isn’t willing to let that happen. You’re a threat to his son’s legend.”
“I guess you’re right. He obviously doesn’t care if the team wins or loses.” Joaquin paused a minute to digest the conversation, then he continued, “So why do the people in town put up with it? Don’t they care how their kids do?”
“Some do, but what can they do? He’s the coach, and he’s no dummy, believe me. If any player complains,” she looked over with that sad smile, “well, you know what can happen if Sommers doesn’t like you. All the other kids know it too. So you either go along with his system, or you don’t go out for the team. Didn’t you ever wonder why we don’t have enough players to field a j.v. team?”
“I figured kids just liked football better. I’m new. What do I know? But I can’t believe somebody with authority doesn’t come in and do something.” Joaquin shook his head, wondering how a coach could get that much power.
“Like I said, Sommers is no dummy. He butters up the people in town who have influence. Why do you think he picked Mike Weathers for his star this year?”
“Well, it’s certainly not because of his speed or agility,” Joaquin laughed as he said it.
“No, but his dad is a big wheel around town.”
“So how do you know so much about soccer? I haven’t seen you at any games before?” Joaquin asked.
“Hey, I used to play. I played on youth teams, and I even went out for the school team when I was a freshman,” she said. “But it wasn’t fun anymore. There was too much politics or something. Everybody was playing against each other. Same reason you walked away today.” She paused, apparently still not satisfied that she had explained herself. “But that’s not how I know about Coach Sommers.” She hesitated again before continuing.
“Hey, if it’s none of my business just tell me,” Joaquin cut in.
“No, it’s not like that,” Jessica said. “See, me and Jake Sommers went out for a while last year. Nothing very serious or anything. He could be a really nice guy,” she hesitated again, “when he was sober. But after a few weeks those sober times got less frequent, so I told him I didn’t want to go out anymore.”
“How’d he take that?” Joaquin asked.
“He was all right. Like I said, when he was sober he was a good guy. He knew what was going on. He knew everybody understood how the soccer team worked. I think that’s what started him drinking. He was embarrassed about being a daddy’s boy. So he tried to show everybody what a rebel he could be.” Jessica looked straight ahead at the road as she spoke now, so it was impossible for Joaquin to read her expression.
“Where is he now?” Joaquin asked cautiously.
“He went to college, but he only lasted a few weeks. I guess he’s living and working in Madison now. I haven’t talked to him since summer.”
“Well, maybe it’s best that he moved away.”
“I hope so. Anyway, I was going to tell you about his dad. When Jake and I were going out, it was almost like his dad wanted to be with us all the time. I felt really pressured, like I was committed for life just because I went to some movies and dances with his son. But I had no interest in getting serious about a guy when I was a freshman. Anyway, after we broke up, it was Coach Sommers who tried to get me back together with Jake. It was weird. He’d come to see me at school and tell me how great his son was. I try to avoid him whenever he’s around.”
“Is that why I didn’t see you in the bleachers today?”
“I suppose. I sat way up in the top corner. I figured if Coach ever knew we were friends, you’d never have a chance to get in a game. Maybe he knows. That could be another reason why he doesn’t like you. He probably has his spies out watching me. I wouldn’t put anything passed him.”
“Well, let me tell you, if I had to choose between playing soccer for Sommers and being your friend, it would be an easy choice. I appreciate your driving me home. But I guess you better head toward my street pretty soon or you’re going to run out of gas.” They both laughed as Jessica took a quick glance at the gas gauge.
The game seemed light years in the past to Joaquin now. He realized that talking about the whole experience had helped put things into clearer focus. He was ready to go in and face his parents. He knew they wouldn’t be mad about his quitting the team, but he guessed they would feel bad and blame themselves. He was determined to keep a positive attitude when he talked about it. He realized there were other important things in life besides just kicking a leather ball into a mesh goal.
When Jessica stopped the car in front of Joaquin’s duplex, there was an uncomfortable pause. Joaquin didn’t quite know how to say goodnight. He considered Jessica more of a friend than a girlfriend, but still he felt very close to her after their long talk. He’d never been on a date with a girl, and he felt very awkward in a situation like this. As he reached for the door handle, Jessica helped him out of another tough situation. She leaned across the seat, put her arms around his shoulders and gave him a hug. It was the perfect thing to do, and Joaquin wished he would have thought of it first. “Thanks for the ride,” he mumbled, “and thanks even more for the talk. I feel a lot better than I did when I was walking across that parking lot. I really appreciate everything.” They hugged again, but this time it was his idea.
“Hey, you’re welcome for the ride. You’re a great guy, and you don’t deserve the way you were treated today. I wish there was something I could do to help.”
“You helped plenty. Thanks.” He opened the door and slid out. Before closing it, he looked back. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow. And thanks again.”
“Anytime,” she said with a big smile. “See you at school.”
As he trudged up the sidewalk he didn’t exactly feel like he had just scored five goals and had been named most valuable player of the year, but at least he didn’t feel totally dejected. The talk with Jessica had numbed some of the pain of his quitting the team. Still he couldn’t deny that what happened earlier really hurt. He felt empty inside like some vital organ had been ripped away and stolen. He dreaded talking to his family.
Chapter 6
When Joaquin walked into the house, his sister Maria was standing by the door with a big smile on her face. “How did you get home, Joaquin? Did you walk?” She couldn’t hold back a snicker.
“No, I got a ride,” he responded, looking around for his parents. “Are Mom and Dad here?”
“Sure, they’re out in the kitchen,” Maria said. “Why? Do you want to tell them who gave you a ride home?” She cut in front of her brother and raced toward the kitchen. “Mom, Joaquin’s got a girlfriend. I saw them smooching in her car.”
“Shut up, you little pest. I wasn’t smooching anybody. Besides, go mind your own business. I have to talk to Mom and Dad.” He sounded stern and angry. He set his books and sweat clothes on the couch and walked toward the kitchen.
“What are you two fighting about?” His father’s voice came from the kitchen. “You’re sort of late coming home, Joaquin, did your game go into overtime?”
“No,” Joaquin answered as he entered the kitchen and saw his parents at the table drinking coffee. “But I have to tell you about what happened tonight.”
“Well,” his mother said, “is it good news or b
ad news? Do you want me to get your supper before you tell us, or do you want to wait.”
“I can wait,” Joaquin said. “I’m not that hungry, and I want to tell you what happened. Most of the news is not very good.”
His parents looked at each other, unable to read their son’s mysterious entrance. “Well, sit down at least, and tell us what happened,” Mr. Lopez said. “Maria, grab a cold soda out of the refrigerator for your brother. Sit down, Joaquin, and tell us what happened. Tell us the good news first.” He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and motioned for his son to sit down. When Maria brought the can of soda, she handed it to her brother and then pulled out the fourth kitchen chair. Joaquin thought about asking her to leave so that he could talk privately, but then he realized it didn’t matter if she heard about the game.
Joaquin told the whole story about getting into the game and scoring the goal. He gave them every detail and tried his best to make the play sound exciting. Maria was smiling as she listened, but Mr. and Mrs. Lopez were guarding their emotions. They knew that bad news was about to follow, so it was impossible for them to fully enjoy the highlights of his one minute of heroics in the game. Joaquin got up from his chair and demonstrated just how he kicked the ball. Miguel nodded as he listened, letting his son know that he could picture the play perfectly. When he finished the story, Joaquin took a long swallow of Mountain Dew, allowing his audience to understand that that part of the story was finished.
“That’s fantastic, Joaquin,” his father said. “I knew you could show them how to play if you got a chance. You are a good player, and now maybe your team will realize it.”
“Well, I might have shown them that I know how to play, but I’m afraid no one was very impressed. That’s the other thing I want to tell you.”
“What happened?” His mother leaned forward, a look of concern on her face. “Did you get a red card and get kicked out of the game?” Joaquin’s mother Louisa knew very little about soccer, but she did understand that getting a red card meant that a player was ejected from the game. She always worried that Joaquin might lose his temper and get a red card.
“No, Mom, I didn’t get a red card. In fact, I wasn’t in the game long enough to get in trouble.” He forced a weak smile as he started to tell his family about the events following his goal. Once he started, he told them everything. He even mentioned the comment about his supposedly having a jalapeno pepper for a brain. He managed to keep his composure throughout his narrative. Before he finished he even told about the stories Jessica had shared with him when they were riding around. He paused when he was finished, then added, “So I guess I’ll be home right after school from now on. Maybe I can get a job a couple hours every afternoon.”
Louisa and Miguel Lopez sat silently for several minutes not knowing exactly what to say. Finally, Louisa got up and went to the refrigerator where she had a plate of chicken, rice, and beans ready for Joaquin. Without a word, she put the plate into the microwave and set the timer.
“So how do you feel about this, Joaquin?” His father finally spoke. “I know soccer means a great deal to you. I feel responsible for this thing that has happened. I should never have taken the new job.” His looked down at his hands that were folded on the table. He mumbled something in Spanish that Joaquin couldn’t understand. Then he looked at his son. “I thought I was doing the best thing for my family.”
“It’s not your fault, Dad. You can’t control everything that happens to me. Maybe something worse would’ve happened in San Diego if we’d have stayed there.” Joaquin said.
“Perhaps you could move back and stay with my brother’s family. You could play on the same team as Lupe and Filipe. Would you like to do that, Joaquin?” Miguel was watching his hands again. “I wanted this move to be good for all of us, but . . .”
“I don’t want to go back. I like it here. It’s just that soccer didn’t work out for me. But otherwise things are fine. Maybe I can find a club team to play for. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Joaquin surprised himself at how convincing he sounded. In all honesty, he had thought several times about asking if he could move back to live with his cousins, at least until the fall season was over. But now, hearing the sadness in his father’s voice, he couldn’t admit that such a plan had any appeal.
“Why do they have such a bad man coaching at the high school?” Mrs. Lopez asked. “Maybe we should talk to the school officials and see if they will get rid of this man. He has no business coaching kids.”
“It’s too late for that now,” said Joaquin. “I’m finished playing at Lakeshore. Besides we’re new in town. Who will listen to us? They have their own ways here. We’re outsiders. We just have to accept it.”
“No, we don’t have to accept it,” said Miguel. “It is not right for a coach to talk the way your coach did. There are laws against such things. Maybe we should hire a lawyer and file a complaint. We are United States citizens. We have rights.”
“But, Miguel, what will your company think if you start filing complaints and lawsuits as soon as you move here?” Louisa asked as she set the plate of food in front of Joaquin and then turned and looked at her husband. “They’ll think you are a troublemaker.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think. No one should talk to my son the way this man did,” Miguel protested.
“No, Dad, I don’t want you complaining to the school. It would look bad for you at your job, and it wouldn’t really help me anyway. I can get by without playing on the soccer team. I have friends at school who don’t play soccer. I will be fine.”
Maria leaped at the chance to break up the serious conversation, “Yes, Joaquin has a girlfriend. I saw them kissing in her car.”
“You didn’t see me kissing anybody, you little liar.” Joaquin aimed a spoonful of rice at his sister as he figured out what to tell his family about Jessica. “I just got a ride home from the game from a girl who sits by me in class. She’s not my girlfriend, and we weren’t kissing. She’s just a friend who gave me a ride. We talked.”
“Huh, I saw you smooching her in the car in front of the house. You gotta a girlfriend, Joaquin. You’re going to marry her and have twenty-seven babies.” Maria chanted the words in a sing-song rhythm.
“Maria,” her father commanded, “you either go to your room and start your homework or go in and watch television for a while. We want to talk to Joaquin, and we don’t need you pestering him. Go on.”
Maria hesitated, apparently thinking about making one more verbal assault on her brother, but she decided it was in her best interest to leave the room.
“So what now, Joaquin? What should we do about this Coach Sommers? Do you want to ignore the fact that he made fun of our nationality? Are you ashamed of being Mexican-American?” Mr. Lopez asked.
“No, I’m not ashamed of who I am. I’m proud of my heritage, but I don’t think it will help anything to complain to the school about this. There are some bad people in every town. I was just unlucky enough to get one for a coach. At first, I did doubt myself. I thought maybe I wasn’t a very good player. But after tonight, getting a goal and then talking to Jessica, I feel like I am a good player. But I’m just not going to be a good player on this team. I’ll get other chances.”
“You sound so mature tonight, Joaquin,” his mother said with a proud smile. “You talk like a man who understands himself and who knows what is important in the world. I know this thing hurts you great deal, and I am very proud of the way you are reacting. But it’s all right to be a little angry too, you know. This coach has done a bad thing. Don’t be afraid to admit that you are hurt and angry.”
“That’s right, Joaquin.” His father cut in. “You don’t have to try to protect us. We are your parents. We should protect you. Don’t feel like you have to hide your pain from us.”
“Well, I guess I would like to say that I think Coach Sommers is a total jerk, and I’m glad I don’t have to put up with his stupid practices anymore. A two-year old could coach bett
er than he does. He doesn’t even know how to line up his players on the field.” Joaquin was trying to laugh as he spoke, but a combination of anger and relief came pouring out, and he couldn’t fight back tears. “And I hope he chokes on a taco someday.”
“Well, you just remember, Joaquin,” his father said, “you didn’t quit soccer today. You quit playing soccer for Coach Sommers, that’s all. You’re still a soccer player, but you’re just not going to play soccer for him. You remember that. There’s a big difference between the two.”
“I’ll remember. That’s a good way of putting it. I didn’t quit soccer; I just quit playing soccer for Coach Sommers.”
Chapter 7
The next several weeks passed quickly. Surprisingly, very little was ever said about Joaquin’s departure from the soccer team. Coach Sommers never talked to Joaquin about his quitting. In fact, the coach seemed to spend less time hanging around the school, and when he was there he simply continued to ignore Joaquin. Joaquin liked to think that Sommers was embarrassed about showing his face, but in reality he figured the coach just had other things to do. Players from the team also basically ignored Joaquin when they met in the hall. It was like he was never really a member of the team.
The one exception was Brian Keely, a sophomore who was also a reserve on the team. He approached Joaquin in study hall one day and said that he had also quit the team. He thanked Joaquin for showing enough guts to stand up to Coach Sommers. He explained that he had wanted to do the same thing for almost two seasons but could never muster the courage to make the decision. He told Joaquin that seeing a really good player walk away from the team had convinced him that there was no shame in quitting a team with a mean and unfair coach. It made Joaquin feel good to know his actions had helped another player. From that point on, he a Brian became good friends.
* * *
Once he was through with soccer, Joaquin started to appreciate life in his new town. He began to notice the beauty of autumn in the midwest. The leaves on the trees had turned radiant shades of red, yellow, orange, and brown. There was a fresh, crisp feeling in the air. While his attention had been almost completely focused on soccer before, now he took time to enjoy these new pleasures. Several afternoons when he got home from school, he took out his bike and rode into the country. The rolling hills and dairy farms dotted with black and white cows were all new to a city boy.