Chapter 15 — Across the Six Meter Line

Three days before the final, Diep sent the team a file with only four pages. There were no wishes, no trophy symbols, and no "trying" that is often used to fill in the gaps in plans. The file name is COMPETITION CONDITIONS - TAN LAP.

Chi read it on the bus, amid the roar of the engine as the bus climbed uphill and the smell of the damp raincoats of the people accompanying her. The first page is the yard diagram. The second page lists the bulb type, secretary desk location, and backup power source. The third page contained a line that no one had noticed before: “The six-meter area must be clearly visible from both sides, without obstructions, the ground is not slippery, and the lines are not broken.” The last page is Diep's signature and the organizing committee's confirmation stamp.

At the bottom of the page, there is a box for the captains of both teams to sign and acknowledge reading.

Vy texted right after: "Miss Chi, should I sign for both of us or just the captain?"

Chi looked at the question for a long time then answered: "Both. Read it then sign."

Vy sent back a sideways smile. "Then I'll read page three to you. I'm at the car repair shop, my hands are oily."

Chi turned the camera towards the glass door. Outside, after a rain, Buon Ma Thuot appears like an unfinished arena: water streaks on the road, motorcyclists leaning close to the steering wheel, linden trees drooping bunches of purple flowers into puddles. She read each item to Vy. Yard background. Light. Substitution area. Emergency exit door. Backup clock. Person responsible when the electronic board stops working.

“Have you read the last section yet?” Vy asked.

"Okay. There are two independent timekeepers and one record taker."

“What about you?”

“I don't keep time.”

The other end of the line was silent for a beat. Chi heard the sound of metal hitting each other, then Vy's voice calmed down: "You've already been assigned to a table."

"Yes. You check the process. Hanh keeps the main timer. Luan is in charge of the board and mechanical clock. You sit outside and say anything if there's something wrong."

“Sounds like you're checking on someone else.”

“No. I'm learning not to hold on to everything.”

Vy laughed softly, but didn't tease any further. Both understand that a final cannot be prepared just by throwing the ball into the net. Two weeks ago, they won a match that no one dared to call a win until they played again. Again they don't want to step onto the field with a hole in their playing conditions and hope it doesn't open up.

Chi got off the bus at the square and walked to the gym. Tan Lap is half closed. Diep stood inside wearing a reflective shirt, holding a stack of papers and a roll of yellow tape. After the team responded, the organizers allowed the field to be inspected before practice. You don't have to fix the entire background. Funding cannot be generated from a single record. But they put back some padding in the hallway, replaced two light bulbs, put smoothness markings on spots to avoid, and put a mechanical clock with a second hand on the secretary's desk.

“Not much nicer,” Diep said when he saw Chi looking around.

“Beauty is not a matter of condition.”

“You saying this makes me feel like I raised a detective.”

“I also thought you were someone who hated being bothered.”

Diep pulled the yellow tape through a seam running near the edge of the six meter area. The mark has been sanded down, no longer sharp edges, but still visible. "I don't hate being bothered. I hate people only speaking up after someone falls."

Chi bent down to try pressing the toe of the shoe. The field is firmer than before. Not perfect, but no longer feels like a puzzle piece waiting to be knocked out of place.

Sao Mai Dak Nia team arrived half an hour later. They wore dark blue jackets and carried two plastic bags and a bucket of water. The person leading the way is Ha Lam, the team leader, a little taller than Chi, his hair braided neatly at the back of his head. Lam did not look at the trophy placed in a glass cabinet in the hallway. She looked at the six meter line first, then looked up at the electronic board.

“This is the condition appendix?” Lam asked.

Diep gave her a copy. "Yes. If there are any unclear points, we will clarify them before signing."

Lam reads quickly but not fluently. Coming to the watch section, she turned to the person in charge who was accompanying her. “Mr. Quan, have you looked at the private source?”

A thin man, wearing glasses, nodded. "See. The electronic board uses stable power, the mechanical clock has a new battery. But I suggest that when competing, keep a stopwatch at the table."

Hanh, having just brought a chair, heard that and said: "I also ask the timekeeper of your team to sit near the secretary's table. Not to doubt each other. To listen to the whistle together."

Ha Lam looked at Hanh and nodded. "Okay. I will sign."

Vy arrived later, still holding a bag of bread for the whole team. She looked at Lam, the two captains greeted each other with a brief handshake. In youth matches, people often build their opponents into a wall just to make it easier to throw the ball over. But Lam doesn't look like a wall at all. She is like someone who is too used to having to remember everything: bus schedules, shirt numbers, teammates' knees, meal money, and the organizers' promises.

“I heard Lightning once asked for a rematch,” Lam said.

“Yes,” Vy replied.

“If it were me, I probably would have received the same result.”

“If it were you, you probably would have done what you believed was right.”

Lam looked at Chi. “And you were the one who discovered six seconds?”

"Luan detected the first sign. I just didn't ignore it."

“So tomorrow if the electronic board stops again, what will you do?”

Chi was about to answer, but Vy spoke first: "We will follow the signed conditions."

Lam smiled, not a friendly smile nor a challenge. “Good. I don't want to win a match and then have to explain to my team why no one knows the real time.”

The practice session begins with things that don't appear in the compilation video: the sound of shoes squeaking on the floor, the gasps of endurance runners, the sound of the ball hitting the goal post. Lightning practices right wing combinations, quick changeovers and seven meter throws. Sao Mai practices the six-foot defense, a type of blocking that requires everyone to move like a folding door.

Tram stands in the pivot position, her back facing the goal. Every time she receives the ball, she must keep her body between the defender and the six-meter line without stepping on the line. This movement reminded her of the times she was pushed during her first practice session, and her feet immediately wanted to retreat.

“Don't back down because you're afraid of the road,” Vy said from the goal. “It's okay to retreat for tactical reasons.”

“How to differentiate?”

"When you know how much space you're giving up. If you don't know, it's fear."

Tram inhaled. Vi passes the ball. She rotated her shoulders, blocked her body, then released the ball to the wing. Not pretty, but true. Ha Lam, standing on the other side of the field, also clapped his hands.

At the end of the session, Manh called the whole team together. He did not talk about having to win to keep funding. He placed the appendix on the floor, next to the strategy board.

“Tomorrow, everyone has only one mission,” he said. "People on the football field. People on the outside On the field, look at your teammates and look at the conditions. If you see anyone in pain, report it immediately. If you hear two different sirens, stop to ask. No one should be considered weak for demanding that the match continue properly.”

Vi raised her hand. “What if you're counterattacking and you see the ground is slippery?”

“I won't counterattack anymore. I told the referee.”

“If the opponent is having a chance to score?”

“Even more so.”

Manh said that and bent down to look at the signature box he had placed on the security paper a few days ago. Chi saw his hand slightly closed. He admitted his responsibility, but that admission did not make the natural turf safer. It just makes repairs an everyone's job.

Hanh gives each person a colored card. Red means stop because of danger, yellow means need to check, green means confirmed. The idea was so simple that Tram laughed.

“Shall we play football or cards tomorrow?”

“Both,” Hanh said. “Bang doesn't know how to read the minutes. Players must know.”

It was dark when they left the arena. The electronic board is still lit, displaying 30:00 like an opened eye. Luan stood longer than everyone else, placing a small tape recorder near the secretary's desk. No one told you to do that. He just wanted to keep the whistle, the button press, and the clock running in the same recording.

Chi walked by and asked: "Are you still afraid of losing track of time?"

"Have."

"Good. I'm a little scared so I can check carefully. But don't let fear decide for you.”

Luan nodded and turned off the phone. Outside the door, Vy is waiting. She threw Chi a warm sandwich.

“Eat, Inspector.”

“Don't call me that.”

“So what do you call it?”

Chi looked over Vy's shoulder, at the six-meter line lying still under the light. “Called people standing on the street.”

Vy did not laugh. She just slowed down so they could walk together, just far enough apart so they wouldn't bump shoulders, but close enough so that if one person slipped, the other could reach out a hand.

That evening, Ha Lam sent Vy a copy of Sao Mai's defense diagram with all player names omitted. Not to give tactics, but to ask if the substitution area is large enough if both teams change quickly. Vy passed it on to Chi. Expenses transferred to Diep. Diep replied that the chairs had been put back and the path was not blocked by the tool bag.

“The opponent is so skillful,” Vi said when he heard the story.

“Technology doesn't make them want to win less,” Vy replied.

“I didn't say that.”

“But I was thinking that.”

Vi tied her shoelaces, checking the knot twice. “I just want when I run tomorrow, my mind is on the battle, not on whether the furnace owner will call.”

Manh gave her a confirmation of shift support. Not a miracle. Just a text with the contact's name, so that if the match drags on, she doesn't have to explain herself from the beginning.

“Where did you get it?” Vi asked.

“It says yes.”

Chi was at the secretary's desk when he heard it and said: "Uncle Manh read it and signed."

“Don't talk like I'm testing the teacher,” Manh replied.

“I just reminded.”

“Reminding many times is also a test.”

Tram is in the corner of the yard trying out a new song. She no longer receives the ball in the middle but stands slightly askew, forcing the defender to choose between following her and covering the pass. Ha Lam looked from the other side and recognized it immediately.

“You're learning not to rush in,” Lam said during warmups.

“I still rush.”

“Only dive after knowing you have a place to land.”

Tram was surprised. “Are you following me?”

“Every team monitors the opponent's pivot.”

“So what should I do?”

“Do something that leaves me guessing.”

Tram thought for a moment. “I will pass.”

Ha Lam burst out laughing. “That's a good start.”

Chi stood near the border, watching the two talk. The opponent is not a machine that stands in the way. They also have questions, conditions and fears to keep for their team. Seeing that doesn't make the game easier. It makes the match more real.

In the evening, Lightning had a snack at the gym. Manh does not overfeed. Vi checked her wrist, Ngan practiced breathing, Vy applied a compress to her knee. Hanh read the appendix to the whole team one last time. Tram asked if the match was stopped because of ground, would the team be able to substitute players? Hanh explains each case. No one urged her to read quickly.

Chi did not sit with the group of players. She was at the desk, sorting files by color. Ha Lam passed by and asked: "Aren't you going to eat?"

"I already ate."

“The food is still there.”

"I know."

Lam looked at the pile of papers. “You think paper can make your team win?”

"Are not."

“So why do you look at it like a strategy?”

“Because paper can prevent a match from being lost because of something that doesn't belong to the ball.”

Lam nodded. “Tomorrow if there are any discrepancies, I will listen to the timekeeper.”

“You still have the right to ask.”

"I know."

Chi went around to check the color cards. Red is in the medical box, yellow is on Diep's desk, green is next to the confirmation list. No one used them in a real match, but having them kept everyone from having to think of panic signals.

The rain started at nine o'clock. The roof of the stadium echoed loudly. Ha Lam took the team back to the hotel. Vy called Chi to the door.

“Do you remember your sentence?” Vy asked.

“Which sentence?”

“The person standing on the street.”

Chi looked at the yellow line. "Miss."

“Don't stand too close tomorrow.”

“I will stand in the assigned position.”

"I know. I just want to hear you say it."

Chi nodded. “I will stand in the assigned position.”

Vy laughed, this time for real. The two turned in. Hanh tried turning off the screen, but the mechanical watch was still running until she checked it one last time. Luan recorded landmarks. Diep locks the source. Manh reminded everyone to sleep.

No one sleeps completely well. But each person knows what he will do if the whistle blows, if the floor is slippery, if the board is slow, if his body hurts or if a question appears at the last second.

Tomorrow the trophy will be in the glass case. It cannot answer for them.