"Watch the flank! Run back on defence! Jessie, get ready, you're going on for Jacob. He is dead on his feet," Nik shouted out, giving orders on and off the bench.
The school team travelled out of the city for an early season tournament. It required a special, private donation for the team to continue going every year. No one knew who donated but when the school inevitably could not meet the funding requirement, the cash showed up to save the day.
On the whistle, Jessie subbed on for Jacob. The teenager walked to the bench, tired and sucking in air.
"You're going to need to quit the smokes, Jacob. I expect better than ten minutes if you plan to be a starter," Nik criticized him before turning his attention back to the game.
The nearly all-black team tried their best against the Hispanic team seeded first in the tournament. Either the players were footballers seeing soccer as a way to improve their sprinting for their preferred game, basketball players hoping to stay in shape before basketball season started, or just a couple kids with nothing better to do. Only three members of the team saw soccer as their first choice.
Thankfully for Nik, the new transfer student slotted right into midfield, giving the team a solid spine. All of a sudden, the kid stripped the ball from an opponent acting too fancy for his own good, and then lasered a lob to a wide open striker. One powerful shot later and PS 69 were up one to nothing.
"Good goal!" Nik shouted from the sidelines, in unison with the bench players cheering.
The first half finished with the team up one to nothing. They were jubilant and happy, as well as surprised they were not down ten to nothing. Nik brought them into the huddle, clipboard in hand, as the boys sucked air and water to try to not die from the running.
"We need to keep up the momentum, guys. We have nothing to lose. All the pressure is on them. Absorb it and hit them on the counter. Make sure the flanks are not exposed too wide or they will do some tiki-taka...some passing nonsense and cut you open. Justin, watch number nine. He has been quiet so far but do not let him get a sniff of the ball."
Nik kept dishing out his half-time pep talk while Michelle looked on. The cheerleading team were doing some cheer in the stands, trying to bring some much needed pep to the squad too. They were at a neutral venue so they had little support. One or two sets of parents showed up. Cash or lack of interest kept the majority away.
Michelle watched Nik, noticing how easy he made the speech. If he mentioned he coached while in Japan, it must have slipped her mind. It turned her on a bit to see him have the group of delinquents eating out of the palm of his hand. It also meant he would not get stabbed by them, giving her some relief too.
The second half started slowly, methodically, as Nik predicted correctly. The Hispanic team played a possession-heavy game, holding the ball and passing it around forever to find their opening. Nik wished he could tell his team to just press and get aggressive but aside from skill, they also lacked stamina. Parking the bus would be their only shot.
Nik's fear came true though. The opposing team were too strong, and they simply wore out his squad. A lot of sprints to the wing forced his players wide, opening up spaces ripe for exploitation. The first few attempts were stifled, but they kept piling on attempt after attempt. The reserves tried their best to give the starters some rest but their skills were even worse, getting sliced open from a pretty combination play.
The opposing midfielder dribbled the ball through the middle, laying off to the right winger. He sprinted down the sides, drawing in the defender. An easy nutmeg through the legs allowed the midfielder to get the ball back, who immediately threaded the needle to the striker. A simple tap-in leveled the game square.
Five minutes later and an audacious strike from their other midfielder from the edge of the box found the corner of the net, putting them up in the lead and not looking back. PS 69 lost, and Nik could only console them and pat them on the back for a valiant effort.
"Hard fought, boys, we almost had them. This is nothing to sulk about. We knew they were the top seed and they showed it. We'll just have to practice harder next week," he commented. "Our only next game is in an hour. As long as you stay out of trouble, you can hang around and watch the other teams play. I'd suggest you all watch our opposition for tomorrow. If you need anything, find Mrs. Jackson or myself. We'll be around here."
The team scattered, taking the opportunity to enjoy the hospitality tents set-up by the event hosts. Michelle gave a similar speech to the cheerleaders, telling them to enjoy themselves but be ready for the next game. Nik looked over and waved at Michelle, shrugging like he had nothing to say about the loss.
Michelle casually walked over to Nik, happy to get away from the girls. They were too young for her to hang out with, plus she had no interest in hearing about who had the biggest cock in the school, or who got pregnant, or who was doing who in the bathrooms. The less she knew, the better. It did not stop the girls gossiping about her though.
"Think she is fucking him?" one cheerleader whispered.
"Mr. Knight? Why would she fuck a cracker?" another replied.
"Cause he is hot as fuck that is why. If guys can be up and dicking those snowbunnies, why can't we get some thick white cock in us too?"
"Please, they are not that big. If you like small men, all the power to you, girlfriend."
"You think Coach Knight has a small cock?" a third cheerleader asked.
"All white boys are limpdicked. Don't you read the internet?" Cheerleader Two announced.
"You really are dumb, even for the ghetto. He be packing. Look at him. You really think a stud like him doesn't have a log swinging between those tree trunk legs. Don't believe the myth," Cheerleader One commented.
"Did you hear Sammy has an Asian sugar daddy?" Cheerleader Four interrupted. "Did you see the watch he got her?"
"Next thing you know, nigger will think she is better than us cause she sucks cock in a rice paddy," Cheerleader Two answered.
"You just hate her cause her IQ is higher than all of us combined," Cheerleader Three shot back.
"I don't need no IQ when I have these," she replied, pointing to her huge rack. "Besides, I drain my man Taylor every day in the toilets. He'll be my meal ticket when he goes pro."
"I'd fuck Coach Knight..." a fifth cheerleader suddenly commented, standing at the fringe of the group. "Why not?"
X
