Chapter 12 — Across the Six Meter Line

Lightning's vote took place in a borrowed classroom from the sports school, where the ceiling fan could only rotate three blades. Manh doesn't call it voting. He called it "listening to all opinions before signing", but there was still a box of paper and small pieces of paper on the table.

Hanh is not in the squad so he sits out. Chi was invited but Vy asked her not to host. Chi agreed, putting the pen down in front of her.

“What is the question?” Ngan asked.

Vy wrote on the board: "Do we propose to replay the entire semi-final?"

Vi looked at the board. “The organizing committee has already decided.”

"Deciding on the organization, not deciding with what spirit we will sign," Vy replied. “I want to know if anyone disagrees.”

Manh said: "This is not a vote to coerce minorities. If anyone has other reasons, please speak up."

Ngan spoke first. "I want to continue. But if the old result keeps me going, I will always remember that I scored without knowing how many seconds were left. I vote for a replay."

Vi looked at the phone. The bakery agreed to let her change shifts, but it's unlikely they will change shifts if the match lasts longer. "I vote for a rematch. I don't want my match to end in a number that no one can explain. But I need to know if there is a rematch, will there be car payments for people who have to take time off work?"

Manh notes. "I will ask the organizers for support. If not, the teams will split."

Tram held the piece of paper but did not write yet. “If the match is lost again, will my personal title be lost?”

“What title?” Vy asked.

“Yesterday people said I was an improved player.”

“No titles have been officially awarded yet,” Manh said. “But my improvement does not depend on the replay.”

Tram looked at Chi. “If people say the old match doesn't count, will what I did that day be lost?”

Chi answered very slowly: "The results may not be used to calculate the prize. But your body still remembers where you stood, the team still knows what you did, and you have the right to recount that match as the part you played. A record cannot erase experience."

Tram bent down to write.

Vy said her part last. "I'm afraid of playing again. I'm tired, my knee still hurts, and Hong Ha will know what cards we used. But I'm more afraid of entering the final with a trophy built on conditions that the other team doesn't accept. I want to play again."

Chi didn't intend to speak, but Vi turned. “What about you?”

“I don't have a player card.”

“You have a responsibility to the team.”

Chi looked at the paper. "I want to fight again, but not because I think the old result was wrong. I want to fight again because I can't prove it was right enough."

Hanh took the paper box and passed it to each person. Five folded pieces of paper. Manh did not vote, saying coaches should not decide to replace players. Tram was the last person to vote. She stood in front of the box, then turned back and asked:

“If we all play again, will I be asked to make the field safer?”

“Yes,” Chi replied. “And it must be in writing.”

Tram voted.

Five votes, same choice.

No one rang. Vi exhaled, Ngan lightly hit the table. Vy took the confirmation from the organizers and read every line. At the bottom there is a box "competition conditions have been announced". She asked to add a line: "Both teams have the right to request a pause if they perceive a safety risk, according to the referee's instructions."

“Do they agree?” Manh asked.

“If not, I haven't signed yet.”

Mrs. Bich came to the classroom afterward. She listened request, call the yard manager. Diep is in Tan Lap, holding the phone. Through the speakerphone, they heard her say that the floor could not be changed in three days, but that the joints could be sanded, checked for smoothness, put on warning tape, and arranged for someone to observe the floor. Hanh added a request for a mechanical watch. Luan added a requirement to record table operations.

The organizers accept each point. Not because they suddenly understood everything, but because two teams were facing the same text.

Hong Ha's department entered later. She looked at the additional lines, asking who would be the one to announce the end of the match. Ms. Bich responded to the referee, but the athlete has the right to report and request recognition.

Faculty signed in advance. “I don't want my team to win because your team doesn't know they have the right to speak.”

Vy signed later. Khoa put down his pen and said: "I still want to win."

"Me too."

The two captains shook hands. This time the handshake lasted longer than the semi-final, not intimate but enough to confirm that both understood the risks.

Chi looked at Hanh. “On the day of the rematch, I sit on the main timer.”

Hanh blinked. “I thought you—”

“You don't sit at the table.”

“So where are you?”

“Behind, but not right behind you.”

“If you need it?”

“I call it by the process name, not by habit.”

Hanh smiled. “It's really difficult for you to teach people.”

“Because people will use what you teach during very stressful times.”

In the afternoon, they went out to practice once. On the background, Diep has sanded the seams. The stain is still a different color, but there are no burrs. She set up a measuring tape and forced each player to pass by in their shoes.

Tram walked slowly, then faster. “Not slippery.”

“What about the right area?” Diep asked.

“A bit sticky.”

Diep marked the gold. “So don't use the word 'fine' in general.”

Manh observed and nodded. He took the test and read it out loud to himself. When he got to the “eligible with supervision” line, he stopped.

“I signed such a statement without asking who the supervisor was,” he said.

Diep replied: "This time my name is here."

Manh added the names Hanh, Luan and an employee of Hong Ha to the list. No one needs a hero who takes responsibility alone.

In the evening, the team had a tactical meeting. Hong Ha knew how they used Tram as a blocking point. Lightning knows Khoa will follow Vi on the wing. Manh divided the battle into small segments. They tried two options when they were behind and one option when they needed to keep the ball.

“If there are eight seconds left?” Ngan asked.

“Don't throw it hastily,” Manh said.

“What if there are five seconds left?”

“Throw when there is range.”

“What if the sign says six?”

Luan replied: "Look at the main clock and listen to the timekeeper."

Tram raised her hand. “What if the timekeeper says there are five left and you see six?”

Hanh said: "I asked again when the ball died."

“If the ball is running?”

"Play according to the referee's signal. Then record."

Tram nodded, as if she just had an extra rope to keep her from falling into chaos.

When everyone left, Chi stayed with Vy. Two people cleaned the ball, no one talked about the final phase of the semi-final.

“Do you still want me to be in goal for the replay?” Vy asked.

“I want you to make your own decisions.”

“What if I told you to come in?”

“Then you come in.”

“What if I told you not to stand near the touchline?”

“You stand further away.”

Vy looked at her. “Aren't you angry?”

“No. The team needs a timekeeper who won't wait for me.”

“Hanh will do it.”

"Me too."

On the strategy board, Manh circled the six meter line three times. Chi used a towel to wipe it away, leaving only a small circle around Tram's name.

“It's not because she has to score,” she said.

Vy nodded. “Because she must know where she stands.”

The replay date has been signed. One The battle cannot return the health, fatigue or choices of the old battle. It can only give two teams a new pitch and a new time, and then ask them what they will do with that opportunity.

After the vote, the atmosphere in the team was not completely light. Some people still regret the old victory. Ngan looked at the 24-23 scoreboard in the gym and asked if they couldn't score as many goals in the rematch, would they have given up an advantage?

Manh said: "Yes."

Ngan waited for him to say more.

“But an unknown advantage is also a kind of risk,” he said. “Any team that wants to continue must accept the parts they don't like.”

Vi brought the calendar. “I need documents to support moving by this afternoon.”

Manh called the organizers right in front of everyone. He did not say "you guys have difficulty", but clearly read Vi's schedule, the distance of the two players outside the district and the match time. Ms. Bich promised to support carpooling. Not enough for everyone, but enough so that no one has to choose between the field and a shift just because the organizers change the schedule.

Tram showed Chi the notebook. She drew a handball court, marking the six-meter court in red, the seven-meter pitch in blue and the secretary's desk in black. Next to it are puppet arrows.

“I don't know how to draw tactical diagrams,” Tram said.

"I'm drawing the way I see the yard. It doesn't have to be beautiful."

“If I stand here, the defender will stand here, Vi runs from here, and Ngan—”

Tram stopped, realizing that her arrow had turned into a new attack. She called Manh. He watched and adjusted an arrow.

“It can be used,” he said. “But you have to know when to stop.”

“I will remember the line.”

"Don't just draw a line. Remember the person standing next to you."

Ha Lam of Hong Ha sent a request for the two teams to share the secretary's desk during the test. Vy agreed. The training session was strange: the two teams took turns being players, keeping time, observing the floor and reading the minutes. Khoa is the player, Hanh is the referee. Luan intentionally placed the board late.

When discovered, Khoa did not stop immediately. She waited for the ball to go out, then raised her hand. “Display difference.”

Hanh checked. “Main clock 14:12, table 14:11.”

Khoa nodded and wrote.

“Don't you have a bigger objection?” Vi asked.

“Loud protests don't make the board run properly.”

“But what if the organizers don't listen?”

“Then I will have a record to ask further.”

Lightning and Hong Ha did not become the same team, but they began to understand that a good process has no color. It doesn't make competition go away. It makes competition need not rely on obscurity.

Hanh rewrote the instructions after the practice session. She removed long sentences and replaced them with short commands:

Confirm before adjusting.

Record error when the ball is dead.

Do not use the monitor as your sole source.

Do not argue over the referee's decision.

Read again for both teams.

Chi read and asked: "Is there any line about the right to request a stop when the ground is dangerous?"

Hanh added: "Report the danger immediately. The referee decides to stop or continue; the score is recorded."

"Good."

“Do you want to add 'don't be afraid of being scolded'?”

"I want to. But I have to write it down as a process, not as words of encouragement."

Hanh thought and then added: "Not considering reporting a risk as unsportsmanlike behavior."

Ms. Bich read the trial version and agreed to include it in the appendix. Khoa signed Hong Ha's confirmation. Lightning's micrograph. Manh added his signature in the coach section.

The night before the match, people didn't talk about the trophy. Tram texted her mother to inform her new calendar. Vi prepares the jersey and alarm clock. Ngan called her sister and heard her read the names of each position. Luan charges the recorder. Hanh puts a stopwatch next to her bed so she won't forget it when she wakes up in the morning.

Please stay at home and check your records. She separates three sets: course conditions, timing, technical decisions. Each episode has one color. She used to think she did this to control everything. Now she understands that classification is also a way of assigning tasks: whoever needs something gets the right part, without having to ask her for the whole story.

Vy called at nearly eleven o'clock.

“Are you asleep yet?”

"Not yet."

“What are you doing?”

“Filing documents.”

“Where will you sit tomorrow?”

"Outside the table, far enough away from Hanh so she can't see me."

Vy was silent. “I want you to watch the match.”

“I will look.”

“But don't look at me as someone who needs to be fixed.”

“I will look at you as someone who read the conditions.”

“That sounds so dry.”

“So you look like a captain.”

Vy laughed. "Okay."

The call ended. Chi put down the phone and turned off the light. In the darkness, she heard the clock in the living room. It ran steadily, no one used it to calculate the match, but she still knew where she was at night.

Lightning responded by signing together.