Hilda’s muffins—everyone but Asher, who stood at the end of the table with his arms folded, watching Ellie with an expression she couldn’t read. Reminding herself that she had done nothing wrong, she sat and nibbled at her own delicious treat while someone farther down the table poured coffee from an insulated carafe into a paper cup and passed it to her. After her second sip, Asher called the meeting back to order.
The group immediately quieted. Asher began speaking, noting alternate schedules, outstanding fee payments, issued equipment, even team colors. Ellie learned that her own team had been assigned the color yellow and that Ilene Riddle had turned in all the necessary funds, with the exception of Ellie’s own fifteen-dollar payment for her coach’s jersey.
“I’ll have to get it from my car later,” she said, realizing only belatedly that she’d interrupted him. He didn’t so much as glance in Ellie’s direction before picking up where he’d left off in midsentence.
Ellie mentally bit her tongue. Obviously, Asher Chatam was a harsh taskmaster. His volunteer coaches came ten minutes early for meetings and sat in silence as he spoke. More proof that she did not fit his model of acceptability. A few moments later, she realized that everyone was staring at her.
“What?”
Asher pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke, obviously repeating himself: “In the event that your teammakes it before the deadline, you’ll need to decide on a team name.”
Thinking of yellow-and-black team uniforms, she almost said, “Bumblebees,” but at the last moment, she realized that probably wouldn’t sound fierce enough. “Yellow Jackets,” she offered.
Asher nodded curtly. “Now, the scheduling. Since we have a questionable team, I’ve had to draw up two schedules for this tier. The first requires each team to play two games in one day at some point during the season. The other…”
Ellie listened intently, hearing some muted grumbles as Asher laid out the entire scheme. The brown-haired woman leaned forward and spoke to Ellie out of the corner of her mouth, “Übercompetitive.”
“They’re six-and seven-year-olds, for pity’s sake,” Ellie muttered back. “How competitive can they be?”
“Not the team, the coach.”
“Ah.”
“Any questions?” Asher asked, looking directly at Ellie.
Embarrassed and irritated, Ellie snapped, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have a question. Since we’re playing ‘small-sided,’ I don’t understand why I have to field a minimum of nine players.”
“It’s true we only field five players on each side at this age, but you must have substitutes,” one of the other coaches pointed out.
“And you hardly ever get all the kids there at one time,” someone else put in.
Ellie shrugged. “If enough kids don’t show up to play, you forfeit the game.”
“It’s the rule,” Asher said flatly, obviously intending to close the subject.
But Ellie wasn’t ready to let it go, and why should she? It wasn’t as if giving in would change anything. “Why should seven kids not get to play for lack of two?” she asked.
“Let’s not take up everyone else’s time discussing it right now. Anything else?” he asked, looking at the others.
Ellie leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and fumed until the meeting ended a few minutes later.
As everyone else filed out, Asher parked one hip on the edge of the table and helped himself to a muffin.
“There are reasons for rules, Ellie,” he said quietly, “and we all have to follow them.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I’m a kindergarten teacher. But what about fun? Soccer’s a game. Games are supposed to be fun.”
He shook his head. “I can’t make an exception, Ellie, no matter how much I might want to. The other coaches would be all over me. Surely you can see that.”
She decided to try another tack. “You’ve obviously forgotten how important having a little fun is.”
“I have
The group immediately quieted. Asher began speaking, noting alternate schedules, outstanding fee payments, issued equipment, even team colors. Ellie learned that her own team had been assigned the color yellow and that Ilene Riddle had turned in all the necessary funds, with the exception of Ellie’s own fifteen-dollar payment for her coach’s jersey.
“I’ll have to get it from my car later,” she said, realizing only belatedly that she’d interrupted him. He didn’t so much as glance in Ellie’s direction before picking up where he’d left off in midsentence.
Ellie mentally bit her tongue. Obviously, Asher Chatam was a harsh taskmaster. His volunteer coaches came ten minutes early for meetings and sat in silence as he spoke. More proof that she did not fit his model of acceptability. A few moments later, she realized that everyone was staring at her.
“What?”
Asher pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke, obviously repeating himself: “In the event that your teammakes it before the deadline, you’ll need to decide on a team name.”
Thinking of yellow-and-black team uniforms, she almost said, “Bumblebees,” but at the last moment, she realized that probably wouldn’t sound fierce enough. “Yellow Jackets,” she offered.
Asher nodded curtly. “Now, the scheduling. Since we have a questionable team, I’ve had to draw up two schedules for this tier. The first requires each team to play two games in one day at some point during the season. The other…”
Ellie listened intently, hearing some muted grumbles as Asher laid out the entire scheme. The brown-haired woman leaned forward and spoke to Ellie out of the corner of her mouth, “Übercompetitive.”
“They’re six-and seven-year-olds, for pity’s sake,” Ellie muttered back. “How competitive can they be?”
“Not the team, the coach.”
“Ah.”
“Any questions?” Asher asked, looking directly at Ellie.
Embarrassed and irritated, Ellie snapped, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have a question. Since we’re playing ‘small-sided,’ I don’t understand why I have to field a minimum of nine players.”
“It’s true we only field five players on each side at this age, but you must have substitutes,” one of the other coaches pointed out.
“And you hardly ever get all the kids there at one time,” someone else put in.
Ellie shrugged. “If enough kids don’t show up to play, you forfeit the game.”
“It’s the rule,” Asher said flatly, obviously intending to close the subject.
But Ellie wasn’t ready to let it go, and why should she? It wasn’t as if giving in would change anything. “Why should seven kids not get to play for lack of two?” she asked.
“Let’s not take up everyone else’s time discussing it right now. Anything else?” he asked, looking at the others.
Ellie leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and fumed until the meeting ended a few minutes later.
As everyone else filed out, Asher parked one hip on the edge of the table and helped himself to a muffin.
“There are reasons for rules, Ellie,” he said quietly, “and we all have to follow them.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I’m a kindergarten teacher. But what about fun? Soccer’s a game. Games are supposed to be fun.”
He shook his head. “I can’t make an exception, Ellie, no matter how much I might want to. The other coaches would be all over me. Surely you can see that.”
She decided to try another tack. “You’ve obviously forgotten how important having a little fun is.”
“I have
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