Stitch's hope

Watching ten girls sing the national anthem of their country before heading to the field is always an emotional moment for me. Their eyes have a hope and strength that not everyone can capture. It makes me think of how proud I am of them.

I’m the eldest on the team, so the girls have me as a role model, and it is a big responsibility. I try to protect them as much as I can, especially from the constant disbelief and the crossed looks we have over us. Unfortunately, when you’re older, the mean comments are not a brief nuisance, but a burden you’re accustomed to carrying. And I don’t want them to carry it sooner.  

When the whistle blew that day indicating that the game was about to start, my focus turned to the two main objectives: Do my best and hit the ball in the goal. I knew we were prepared, and we definitely had a winning spirit, but it didn’t guarantee victory. 

The clock hit 35 minutes of the second half and the score was 0 X0. We started to worry, but we couldn’t give up. The 45 minutes were finished, and still 0 X0. Two extra- times, but the 0 X0 persisted. I didn't want to go to penalties because our chances were lower compared to the other team, and the physical fatigue mixed with emotional pressure made our confidence fade away. But penalty was the only option, so I splashed water on my face and reminded the girls that we were warriors, and we were ready to fight again. 

Our opponents were going first, and like in a movie scene, before they kicked the ball, everyone in the arena made complete silent and our goalkeeper squinted her eyes in focus while possibly imagining in what angle the player could hit. And she defended the first attempt. We could almost feel the taste of hope and a possible win down our throats. Our coach raised her arms up and with a wide smile, she celebrated with the rest of us. But it didn’t last long. Barb let the other balls hit the net, and in our turn, we didn’t score once. 

The game was over. And after that, I just wanted to go home. I didn’t want comforting words. I didn’t want to speak anything with anyone. Not even with my team. But, a bald man approached me with a black microphone and a camera flash strong enough to be hard to ignore.

“Mary, what do you have to say about today's defeat?” The guy asked. 

“Well… we did our best. Our girls trained a lot and it was a hard game. The only thing I ask is, please, do not point fingers. If you want to point fingers at someone, point it to me.”  

“And why’s that?” 

“I'm used to it. And these girls don't deserve it. Also, please don't demand high-level performance from them when you people don't value or invest in women's football.” 

I said that knowing that the interview would have been much longer if the man's attention had not been diverted by another player approaching. It was my chance to head out, and I took it walking in long steps, ready to leave the stadium.

When I reached the exit hall, I saw someone hugging their knees and crying in a low volume. By the hair, I identified Giovanna, our younger player, and the team’s promise. Seeing her like that broke my heart into pieces. That game was a chance of proving that we were worth it, that we could go on in the championship, and above all, that we shouldn’t give up. That the younger ones shouldn't. It was the time to show them a future in football. 

But in any case, I had to leave all my worries behind, Gio needed me. And maybe talking to her was going to ease the pain of my chest and bring a little hope, so I placed my hands on her shoulders, wishing the best.

*

“It’s ok.”

Mary's serene voice comforted me, and at that moment, I wished her words were true. But things weren’t okay. They were far from it.

When the game was over and I realized we had lost, the million voices that torments me at night resonated in my head. My mom saying that that was the only way I could prove I’m worthy of something, my past coaches saying I’d have to be over the top because I was representing my country, my friends saying that they were only watching the game because of me. 

These thoughts accelerated my heartbeat and made me leave the field before everyone else. And as I walked, it felt like there were chains tied to my feet, the celebration of the opposing team penetrated me like a deadly noise, dangerous as a whale sound to human ears, but at least our crowd was gentle. They gave me smiles as I passed, so I repeated to myself that things were going to be ok. And I was believing in the idea until I heard a guy on the second row saying that the defeat only proved that women can’t play football. 

That phrase destroyed me slowly while it kept repeating in my head as my tears ran down, and I just wanted to stay in the darkness of my closed eyes.

“And that only proves women can’t play football” I finally replied to Mary. 

“What?”

“I heard them saying.”

“Honey, they only say that because they can’t play football.”

 “They doubt me since I was a child” I unburdened. “Saying it’s not a girl’s game, putting me in a stereotype box, claiming I’m going nowhere and should give up.”

“Same.” Mary answered after straightening her spine. “And that’s why we’re so amazing. That’s why you are so amazing. You went over all of that, worked hard, and now you represent your country at only 18 years old, Gio. A defeat won’t take that from you.” 

I wanted to say something at that moment. At least a “thank you”. But I was out of energy. And Mary knew, so she hugged me, a gesture that was worth more than any possible dialogue. We helped each other get off the ground and walked together the rest of the hall, letting the sequence of small yellow lights guide the way.  

“I’m giving you the Stitch. But only if you promise to give it back to me.” Mary said.

“Really?” 

She nodded. “Yeah.”

 I opened a big smile. 

Mary carries with her a Stitch keychain, and he wears our team's uniform. The Stitch was the reason we bonded, the first opening for small talks, and the cause of funny memories on a bus trip. I would always joke saying it was too cute and one day I’d steal it from her.

As we remembered my common threat, we entered the room where we were staying at a hotel and started the search for the keychain, but we couldn’t find it. In the fifth search, the logical conclusion showed that it wasn't there. I theorized that Mary probably dropped it somewhere or, in an unfunny destiny, someone would have actually stolen it. 

Four hours later, on my flight back home, my heart was calm. We didn’t find the Stitch, but we did talk to the team and hugged again. This time, all of us. A feeling of hope lited up. 

We laughed and cried, and Mary shed tears that seemed to be kept in her for a while. I had decided to keep the funny moments, the smiles and the join of playing together. And while thinking about this, my eyes alternated between open and closed until I finally managed to sleep peacefully.

*

The trip back home was quiet, but having to face parents after a day that was not good is never easy. 

“I saw the results of the game on the news. Well, that was a waste of time.” A woman said in a stiff tone. 

“I’m sorry, mom. I promise I won’t waste your money again.” 

Anna crossed the large hall of her house as quickly as she could, and stepped heavily on the stairs, hoping that the echo prevented her from listening to any further complaints. But before the girl could get to her room, she still perceived her brother saying to their mom what a waste of time it was to take her to the game and how he would never do it again. 

Having an absent mother is hard enough for a child. Having an absentee mother who clearly shows a preference for one of the siblings was why Ana had more appointments with a psychologist than is common for a 15-year-old girl. 

For her, things were always different. Her brother could spend the whole night out, but she couldn’t go to sleepovers. It was justifiable for Enzo to get low grades, but she couldn’t take a B. Not even her psychologist had concluded the reason for the indifference.

Anna’s safe place was her bedroom. And as usual, she locked herself in it, crawled to her thick blanket, and played her favorite sad playlist on a JBL headphone at full volume. 

 “You forgot your dumb stitch in my car.” Her brother interrupted throwing a keychain in her bed.

“Thanks.”

“You good?” He asked with a forced politeness. 

“Yeah.”

 “Look, sorry man, but I mean it, I don’t think girls can play football. It’s just not a girl’s game.”

“Just go.” 

Enzo’s words hurted her more than usual. She was used to people’s disbelief, especially her family. And every time unnecessary words came, she’d remember Robert, her coach, saying that there is no such thing as women’s or men’s sports, and that she was good. He had faith the girl was going places.  

Anna stared at the Stitch and was reminded of what happened that day. She remembered the excitement of walking in the stadium, and how her neck muscles were stiffening because of the match's tension. She also remembered the moment her heart broke: when the referee declared the opposing team's victory and how her brother complained and dragged her out of the arena by the hand.

 The next sequence of events was a roller coaster of emotions.

They went to Enzo's car intending to go straight home, but halfway, he stopped to buy food and left Anna waiting. Coincidentally, the place was right next to the team's hotel, and Anna knew that. 

After observing through the car's window for a while, she saw one of the players talking to the receptionist. Anna jumped out of the car to go talk to her, but before the red hair girl got there in time, the team's shirt 12 was gone. She considered going after her, but the woman had left a keychain in one of the hotel’s chairs, so Anna figured she'd come back.

The 15-year-old was patiently waiting, but when she laid eyes on the hotel's glass door, she saw her brother leaving the restaurant. In a desperate act, the girl put the keychain in her pocket and left the place. She went back to the car and spent the ride in silent, watching the view.

Anna felt excited, disappointed, and sad in a short period of time. And from the events that had unfolded since she arrived home, the sadness was a strong candidate to remain. But seeing that Stitch dressed in the national team's outfit made her smile, and suddenly a spot of hope invaded her heart. She imagined herself returning the keychain, talking to the players, explaining what happened, and even telling them that she also plays soccer.

Anna liked that scenario. She grabbed a ball that was hidden under her bed and began to do kick-ups. She changed the sad playlist to a lively one, and so, she felt the world under her feet again. 

Mary, Gio, and Anna shared a pain. The pain of being discredited, the pain of feeling less than others, the pain of being born female. 

But just as they felt pain, they also found joy. The girl's hope was regained through a series of complicated events because they were together, even if indirectly, and together they were stronger. The three of them knew that. 

They would always fight like warriors. 

And one day, Anna would return the cute Stitch keychain.