Rosie Gives it a Shot

The visitors were invited in at Mrs Flax's request to discuss urgent business.

"No, I've never in my life applied to coach, train, select, manage or supervise the travel of a soccer team, whether male, female or performing dogs," Rosie said emphatically. "This is crazy."

"You seem to know something about soccer administration," Mr Flax said hopefully.

"Yes, I do, you idiot," Rosie hissed. "I played soccer in selected teams from the age of eight until two years ago on my retirement when as a player I peaked, scoring the winning goal as a striker for the Southern Hemisphere's Senior Women's Team that beat the Northern women 2-1."

"Ah glory be," said Larry Walsh, an immigrant from England who'd requalified to resume practising as a chemist again after immigrating. "I remember you well, Rosalind Klum, who weaved through four players and dibbled at speed past the opposition's goalmouth and them calmly and with breath-taking timing, back-heeled the ball with a flick into the net, leaving their surprised goalie standing scratching her head, wondering what was up."

"Yes," cried the others after being reminded of that moment.

"Have you arrived here to find work?" asked Nellie Flax.

"Yes, but with nothing lined up as yet, Mrs Flax."

"I'm Nellie to you. Then how about taking a spell from regular work and become manager-coach of our soccer division's broken-down senior women's team on a 2-month contract for a miserable 700 bucks a week?"

But that immediately hit a snag.

"We can't do it like that Nellie, not without the proposal going before the board along with the background and management's recommendation," the chairman said primly.

"Well, Mr Chairman, snaffle Miss Klum right now or she will walk, lost to the club forever."

"Nellie, I haven't yet responded to this astonishing request."

"Wait for your turn, Rosie," replied Nellie. "My first priority is to hound the obstinate chairman. What is it to be Larry? You have thirty seconds in which to decide yes or no and only yes or no. The clock is ticking."

Larry was holding his groin as if he were bursting for a huge nervous pee.

The chairman pulled out his phone to call someone, probably the deputy-chairman but he dropped his phone and it slid under the table.

No one moved to assist.

Larry went on down alone and just emerged back with his phone in his hand held high triumphantly when that relentless woman cried, "Time, Mr Chairman."

"Fuck," yelled Larry. "Let's have Rosie's pretty little tail bobbing up and down on the paddock or in the gymnasium in bright and tight shorts in club colours, if she will have us."

Rosie sighed and said, "Mr Chairman, pass me your business card. I will call you at 7.00 in the morning with my decision. That's the best I can do for you, Nellie."

"That's good enough for me, Nellie smiled. "Meeting adjourned,"

"Hey," called Larry. You can't do that. I'm the chairman."

"Bullshit Larry," Nellie giggled. "Even a chairman can't close a meeting that hasn't been opened in accordance to the rules and the words adjourn and adjournment are not even mentioned in our rules that were drafted and adopted in 1883 and last amended way back in 1919. I suggest that for convenience, we keep them in their present state of hiatus."

Chapter 4

Rosie began working at the Hilltop Sports Centre's soccer division that embraced and all of Hilltop Country. The sports centre was large, with 33,760 members currently paying the annual subscription plus another approximately17,000-plus in arrears. It also received a large annual payment from the district territorial council in recognition of the work done by the centre and its various clubs to keep juveniles off local streets and keep the recreational drug problem among young people suppressed.

Since the sports centre was substantially male-oriented, Nellie quickly befriended Rosie, had coffee with her frequently and kept supplying their two offices with flowers.

Rosie was straight into it from Day One, taking a quarter page advert in the Golden City News announcing, with the approval of the centre's administration, that the Heartbreaker's senior women's soccer team was being revived by a new manager-coach and a meeting of all current and interested potential new players existing players should note that all playing positions had been rescinded which meant existing players would have to complete for positions like everyone else.

Larry, reading that advertisement with his 6.30 am cup of Old English Tea had a fit. He called Nellie who was shaving her armpits and yelled, "What the fuck is this? All of our star senior females are being thrown into the pool and ordered to re-compete for their positions."

"That's correct, Larry. Incidentally, name me just three of our senior women players who come even close to being rated as stars?"

"Well, there's... um, there's... Oh, we do appear to have a problem. Have a great day, Nellie," he sighed.

Remarkably, only two regular senior players decided to call it a day in a huff after attending the 'standing room only' revival meeting that attracted 414 attendees registered at the door. The other regular players took one look at their attractive and potentially successful coach who appeared to glide on to the stage like a panther, possessing a figure to die for, and an oversized whistle hanging between braless breasts that moved every so suggestively.

She was the closest woman to Wonder Woman they and anyone else is the district had ever laid eyes on live.

They were ready to love her from the outset of the meeting when the former kindergarten teacher walked on the stage, squared her shoulders and yelled above the din on female chatter to open proceedings, "Shut the fuck up."

Total silence reigned.

"Thanks. I'm Rosie Klum who's never coached soccer in her life, but played it meritoriously at times as a striker. I'm here for eight weeks and in that time will lead this club's senior women's team into gaining its first major win in nine years in a challenge against the top team in this region, the Lightfoot Wanderers."

The gasp from the assembly was huge.

"Most of you here are surplus to our requirements, and you others potentially hold the key to forming a new and great team. Please understand, hidden in this crowd are the players that will become my team of 11 players plus reserves. All up, I want a squad of twenty-three that includes the water carrier. The job I face, hopefully with assistance from armchair experts, is to ferret out that squad of twenty-three. That number includes sufficient players for two teams plus one so we may play one team against the other in practice and development."

"I once played for the South against Northern hemisphere women. We won and I experienced the glory of scoring the winning and momentarily believing I was at the top, at least in my mind, of women's world soccer."

"Omigod, she'd the Rosalind Klum of soccer."

The huge applause was swift and spontaneous.

Rosie let it run for fifteen seconds and held up her hands for silence.

"Right, thanks, and that's old history dealt with. I allowed that to occur to get you on side. At present, all this soccer club has in terms of senior grade team is me, the nominal coach. Around the coach, we'll build a team from the ground up to eradicate old habits and beliefs and to encourage the controlled entry of the new generation of players to mix with veterans holding up their hands to be picked for trials."

"We have only one word for it, and it's REVIVAL. Enthusiastic applause please, everyone."

The noise was deafening

Thirty minutes later, as the crowd dispersed, Nellie said, "Well that went astonishing well."

"Many of that audience would have come here hoping to be part of something positive," Rosie said. "Virtually all I had to do was to push the right buttons. Now your button is being pushed. I need two voluntary assistant coaches to work with me for two hours each evening five nights a week from next Monday helping to coach the chosen A and B teams."

"Initially, players will virtually select themselves and from that pool we'll work to produce the final squad. Within days I will have picked the provisional captain and vice-captain to assist me with that critical final assessment."

Nellie said, hugely impressed, "Right, I'm away to gather volunteer assistant coaches and to build seeding team supporters darling. I believe no other group in the history of this sports centre had has a rocket fired under them like women's soccer today. Your success is virtually assured."

"After hard work."

"Aye, after hard work. Come and stay with my family, Rosie. We live just over the fence at the far end of the female soccer training ground."

"What a wonderful invitation," Rosie said to the older woman. "Thanks Nellie, I accept with the proviso that I pay a realistic boarding fee."

Eight weeks later, the selectors believed they had jointly picked a well-balanced team that was performing well in training.

"This Saturday afternoon is the launching of the rebuilt Hilltop County's Heartbreaker Angels senior women's soccer team," said its vice-captain, Britt Spicer.

The other selectors, Rosie and team captain Gwen Smith smiled in excitement.

"And your contract ends on Saturday, boo-hoo, Rosie." Gwen said.

"Everyone, accept that many things never stay the same, and I begin my new job on Monday. But first, we need that win to establish our credentials solidly for the upcoming new season. The damn cheek of the Lightfoot Wanderers' management wanting appearance money to cover expenses in playing before an empty stadium. But they've changed their tune and settled for the regular split of gate-takings when we promised them a minimum crowd of 7000 when secretly expecting that our crowd of total walk-ups was likely to reach 12,000."

On Friday, Rosie was visited by a reporter and photographer from Golden City News looking for a quote on the unofficial match with the champion side, the Lightfoot Wanderers.

"The Wanderers will bite the dust, and that's a certainty," Rosie grinned, looking at the camera.

That quotation on the front page of the newspaper on Saturday morning was enhanced by a huge head and shoulders picture of Rosie.

Under that article was a small picture of Helen Hagen, coach of the Lightfoot Wanderers. She threw down the gauntlet saying that the Heartbreaker Angels had not won a major game in the past nine years and had employed a has-been notable player as a temporary coach to try to pull the team out of the duckpond, but the rescue attempt was doomed before it started.

* * *

Saturday dawned fine with no wind, and people like a scrap, especially when females are involved. Spectators in large numbers began arriving at the stadium from all parts of region including eight busloads of supporters urgently mustered from Weymouth City where the Wanderers were based.

Turnstiles recorded 18,528 people passed through the gates.

The game was epic, truly exciting, although all out-of-season players were not completely match-fit.

The game was sixty-seconds from the final whistle for a 2-all draw, meaning a play-off of goal kicks would be necessary to find the winner, when coach Klum was seen to flick two reversed fingers at her team captain.

The left winger sliced a pass to Gwen Smith centre-field and she took off like a scalded cat, weaving her way through six defenders replicating the skill of her coach and former champion player Rosalind Klum.

The penny dropped for the Wanderers' coach Helen Hagen, who screamed the warning, "Deception!"

The final defender between Helen and the goalie was a massive back, who already had her head down ready to charge in for possession.

Helen flicked the ball out to her left winger who flicked it back as soon as Helen had whipped around the hapless defender.

The goalie, winner of several awards for the best goalie in the senior women's league for the region, crouched, licking her lips but saw the attacker inexplicably swerve away. The goalie remained at the ready, but was flat-footed and heard her coach scream "Back heel-shot."

Too late.

Helen, groomed over several hours of repeat procedure, sent the ball with a powerful heel-back deep into the net.

Game effectively over in the dying seconds, the revived side winning 3-2. The general opinion was grand job done by the Heartbreakers players on the comeback, assisted by their awesome temporary coach.

Soccer old-timers couldn't remember a better night at a major soccer victory dinner when leaving as the celebrations that were being closed down at midnight.

The opponents and officials had accepted invitations to stay for bangers (pork sausages), boiled potatoes and boiled cabbage and dark beer. That tradition to celebrate important wins had been imported from England by a future club chairman Larry Walsh's father after playing his final game at Wembley before immigrating 107 years earlier with his new wife not long out of high school.

The highlight of the evening was the tremendous roar that sounded after Larry presented Rosie with a bonus payment (undisclosed amount) and then declared Rosalind Klum had been declared a life member of the long-established soccer organisation for almost single-handedly breathing new life, focus and skill sets into its premier senior women's team.

* * *

Rosie was due to begin work at the local TV station as deputy director of sports coverage in two weeks after completing a regional update workshop for sports journalists, beginning on Monday. She had accepted an invitation to dinner on Sunday night with the TV station manager, currently on a trial separation from his wife who was apparently sailing off the Italian Coast with a guy and two other women.

Rosie was ready to cuddle a guy, practically any guy, and so why not her the station manager?

She was cool about that, not being hogtied by self-imposed barriers as she had been when settling to become a kindergarten teacher. She had seen the station's manager's home on the clifftop and had thought wow, it must be great living there.

"Hmm, I guess it represents a possible great opportunity. But first, I need to check out this guy athletically," she said aloud. " Sally drummed into me the conservative rule that one step at the time invariably works brilliantly."

The End