Perpetual Sidekick

With only three minutes separating them from glory or despair, Hilda and Natasha raced off the center circle with the determination of Scorpios. They were after all, both Scorpios, solidifying their friendship and locking in B.F.F. status. The ball rocketed into the back of net, deflected with precision off the top of Natasha’s head. The keeper didn’t stand a chance. Hilda's cross landed exactly where she anticipated Natasha would run to. Her constant awareness of her teammates’ positions and an uncanny ability to predict their movements set The Sharks up for another nail-biting win. The Sharks and The Pirates were tied 2-2 for the entire second half despite both team’s valiant efforts to break ahead. The “tenacious twins” as they were lovingly dubbed by their peers, had done it again.

           Today was not just another Saturday on the soccer pitch, this was the game. The Pirates were their rival high school, a rivalry so old no one understood it. Coach Joe lobbied for his girls to be allowed the honor of playing this historic match on the beloved football field under the lights. Nothing but football was ever played on this field in the history of its existence. Losing was not an option.

           The cold aluminum bleachers thundered under the feet of the entire school. At least it felt like the entire school. The violent contrast of the bright stadium-like lights against the black moon-less sky made it impossible to tell. Roars of excitement and boos of disdain were all that could be distinguished from the noise that assaulted their focus. Even at sixteen, Hilda and Natasha knew this was their moment and soaked up every millisecond.

           Sportsmanship being of the utmost importance even in the face of fierce competitiveness, The Sharks and The Pirates lined up and slapped hands; congratulations were given to their counterparts for a well-matched challenge. The Sharks were victorious! They had vanquished the invading rivals and were quick to re-group for a much-deserved celebration. The girls circled around Coach Joe and waited for his critique, their exuberance expressed by their inability to stand still. His post-game sermons always ended with encouragement and a team vote for M.V.P.

           “The performance of the midfield was stellar, you girls really hustled out there tonight. But it was too quiet. Remember to communicate, talk, yell. You need to let each other know where you are.,” Coach Joe instructed.

           “Yes Coach,” the team yelled in unison. He wanted them to yell, didn’t he?

           “Alright, enough teaching. You deserve to enjoy this win; it was hard earned. Now, who’s tonight’s M.V.P?” Coach Joe eagerly awaited the team’s response.

           “TASH-A, TASH-A,” Hilda began the chant. After all, Natasha was the one to score a last chance tie breaking goal, and with a header no less. Epic.

           “HILD-A, HILD-A,” the chant was morphed by Natasha. If it wasn’t for Hilda’s foresight and precise cross-field kicks none of the three goals would have been scored. Her assists were crucial in their ability to get points on the board.

           “Tasha scored two of the three goals and never stopped trying for more, she should be M.V.P.” Hilda rallied her teammates, and quickly re-focused their attention to Natasha.

           “TASH-A, TASH-A,” the chant struck up again.

           “Alright, alright,” Coach Joe threw his hands up and signaled the girls to simmer down. “Time to vote,” he declared. Natasha quickly turned to the girls closest to her and whispered in their ears. She campaigned for Hilda’s win; her name had been chanted enough. Natasha had secured the title of M.V.P. three times this season already, it was time her best friend received some accolades.

Hilda shut her eyes and silently prayed; she really didn’t want to hear her name yelled again. Being singled out for any reason, even a positive one, was not her style. She wanted to stay one step behind her outgoing bestie, content to reside in the rays of sunshine she emitted. Hilda didn’t need recognition. She just wanted to be a part the group, a number in the field, a piece of the puzzle.

“Hands raised for Natasha,” Coach Joe announced. Only one hand went up. It was Hilda’s. She kept her eyes squeezed shut not wanting to know the outcome. “Ok, then. I guess we have a winner,” Coach Joe proclaimed. “Hilda! You are the M.V.P.”

“HILD-A, HILD-A, HILD-A,” The girls’ rhythmic chant sped up to match the flutter of Hilda’s heart. How could this have happened? Hilda wasn’t supposed to be the hero, she was a perpetual sidekick. Natasha was the star of the show, she was her supporting cast. Hilda’s teammates were so excited to lift her up and praise her. Natasha roped her arm around Hilda’s neck and pulled her in close, grinning with admiration. For a moment Hilda was caught up in the glory of her new title and accepted their praise.

Is this what Natasha feels like all the time? Hilda thought. How exhausting!

Hilda separated herself from Natasha and enmeshed herself in the blob of teenage adrenaline that was undulating on the field. She was determined to reclaim her position as soccer player number 26, and nothing more. Hilda quietly approached Coach Joe and humbly asked if it was possible to name two M.V.P.’s tonight. It was a special game, so why couldn’t it be a little out of the ordinary? Coach Joe smiled at her knowingly.

           “Girls. Girls,” he boomed. “Before you head off, I want to acknowledge Natasha, Becca, Whitney, Latoya, Maria, and Summer for their outstanding performances tonight. Their dedication and hard work at practice this week was shown on the field and they all have earned the title of M.V.P. Now, go home and stay out of trouble! See you all Monday.” Coach Joe earned his title tonight too.

The balance was restored and all was right with the world. Natasha was again the hero, along with Becca, Whitney, Latoya, Maria, and Summer. And Hilda remained the perpetual sidekick ensuring the success of those around her, even when they didn’t know it.