Chapter 3 — Across the Six Meter Line

The Central Highlands Lightning Team does not have a single practice hour. There was a group that came from the dormitory at six o'clock, a group that went to school in the morning and then at noon, and a group that worked the night shift and then slept right on the bus. Manh tried keeping everyone on the same schedule, then realized professionalism cannot be measured by who has more free time.

Le Thao Vi arrived at the gym with two boxes of bread, a bottle of water and red eyes from lack of sleep. She placed her hand on the six meter mark, tapping lightly as if checking the table top.

“Which extra shift will you work tonight?” Vy asked.

“Packages from eleven to three.”

“Semi-final tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“You can take a leave of absence.”

Vi shook her head. “My mother can't ask for leave for me.”

Vy wanted to say the team was important, but stopped. She knew that Vi had changed shifts four times during the month, each time someone said the same thing and then left her to calculate the electricity bill, rent, and tuition.

Manh divided the team into three groups. Vy's group practices six-meter defense. Vi's group counterattacked. Tram is in the middle, learning how to block defenders and not setting foot in the goalkeeper's area. She kept looking down the line every time she received the ball.

“Bao Tram,” Manh called. “Look at the defender's shoulder, not the floor.”

“I'm so scared to walk.”

"Fear is the data. Not the steering wheel."

Chi heard that sentence, wrote it down in her notebook, and then realized she was writing down too many words. She is no longer a trainer. Manh looked over.

“Do you want to stay out or do you want to participate?”

“I'm participating by recording.”

"Don't write down everything. Choose what the team needs to remember."

Just cross out three lines.

At the next table, Luan tried the scoreboard. He loaded the simulated match into the system, setting up two 30-minute halves, two-minute penalty periods and a time-out. The board runs correctly until the 21st minute then jumps back two seconds. Luan cursed very softly.

“Again?” Chi asked.

"Not like yesterday. Yesterday it was at six seconds. Today it was two seconds back when syncing the power."

“Is there a log?”

“Yes. But the log records the board time, not the actual time.”

Chi placed the watch next to it. “So we have to save both.”

Luan opened a paper notebook. “I'm recording.”

“Record who pressed, which button, when, and why.”

“You want me to write a novel?”

“I want to know where six seconds go.”

Luan looked at her, then wrote more.

After practice, Vi lay on the floor with her legs propped up on a chair. She opened her phone to see her work schedule, class schedule, and semi-finals schedule. The three tables don't have a space long enough to breathe.

Chi sat a little distance from her.

“Do you really want to study physical therapy?”

Vi nodded. "I like to know why people hurt and how to get them back to exercising. It's not for everyone to compete."

“The team has scholarships this year.”

“If we can keep the program.”

“You can ask.”

“I know.”

“Why haven't you asked yet?”

Vi looked at the shoes. "I don't want them to choose me because of the night shift story. I want them to choose me because I can play."

I understand. A cute story can turn into another cage. She told Vi to ask for the scholarship criteria in writing, not just listen to the promise in the hallway.

“You still talk like a secretary.”

“The secretary's desk holds the things others forget.”

“What about the yard?”

“Things people don't have time to write.”

In the dressing room, Tram is practicing tying shoe laces. She dropped the small ball into the cupboard, bent down to grab it, and hit her head on the edge of the chair. Vy reached out to pull her up.

“Are you okay?”

"Fine."

“Don't use that sentence without checking.”

Tram rubbed her forehead and smiled. “Everyone has told me this since I joined the team.”

“Because you always say okay first.”

“If you If you say it's not okay, everyone will let you sit out."

Vy squatted in front of her. “In the team, saying it's not okay is so we know what to do. Not to chase you away.”

Tram looked down at her hands. “Tomorrow if you stand on the wrong line, I'll just scream.”

“I'll call before you're wrong.”

“How do we know in advance?”

“I will learn.”

Manh walked in, carrying the list. He read each person's name and asked if anyone needed to change their sleeping time, change their car location, or need someone to wake them up. No one laughed at that question. A reserve player admitted she worked part-time at a cafe and fell asleep twice. Manh changed the warm-up schedule so she wouldn't have to run in a blank state.

Chi looked at the coach. Manh is not a gentle person, but he begins to understand that a team cannot run fast by considering life off the field as a personal fault.

Diep sent a notice that the floor had not been completely repaired. Rival team Hong Ha asked to see photos and measurements. The organizers asked why the home team brought up the issue themselves. Manh replied: "Because we play on this field."

Khoa, team leader Hong Ha, sent a message to Chi through the technical team. “My team agreed to have someone watch the ramp. Not because I don't trust Tan Lap, but because every team needs to know how the field changes."

Chi replied: "I will record the proposal in the minutes."

“Don't just write it down. Speak before the match.”

Khoa's message made Chi think. The opponent does not want her team to be at a disadvantage, but is also not Lightning's friend. Khoa wanted a match that could be reviewed without having to guess which team was favored.

That night, Vi went to work. Vy stayed behind to watch her opponent's video. Tram slept in a teammate's living room because her home was far away. Chi sat on the bus with Luan, between them were two watches: one electronic, one mechanical.

“Have you ever thought about quitting the team?” Luan asked.

“Yes.”

“Because of injury?”

“Because I'm afraid that when I look back I'll find everyone has moved on without me.”

Adjust the watch strap. “The secretariat desk is also needed.”

Chi looked at him. “Are you saying that so I can stay?”

“I said because if you leave, I have to explain myself for six seconds to the whole hall.”

Chi laughed for the first time that day.

The car drove past dark coffee shops. Tomorrow, Lightning will enter the semi-finals. Half the team needs sleep, half needs work, one needs to learn the six-yard line, one needs to fix the clock, and a former goalkeeper needs to sit behind the table knowing a game is not just decided by the last pitcher.

Vi slept for two hours then got up to go to work. The bakery is located in an alley with a low corrugated iron roof, lit up from three o'clock in the morning. The owner knows she competes, but knowing that doesn't mean he can let her rest every time the team calls. The morning before the semi-finals, she had to roll out dough, arrange trays and write down the number of cakes to deliver to three restaurants. Every time she heard the phone vibrate in her pocket, she thought Manh was telling her to change the schedule.

The message was just from Tram: “Vi, my shoe laces came off while running. Do you have a spare wire?”

Vi texted back: “Yes. But you have to tie it yourself tightly.”

Tram: "Can you tie it for me?"

Vi looked at her hands covered in flour and replied: “No. I play the pivot position. Shoelaces are also my part.”

Tram sent a dot. Half an hour later, she sent a photo of her shoes tied in two loops. Vi zoomed in and saw that the button was slightly misaligned but sturdy. She saved the photo to her computer, not knowing why.

At the sports school, Tram arrived earlier than everyone else. She did not enter the field immediately but stood in front of the six-meter line, placing a water bottle at the edge outside. Chi's exercise is to receive the ball, spin around, stop in front of the bottle, then pass it to the side. Don't throw. No collision. Just learn distance.

“Are you practicing handball or standing?” Tram asked.

“Standing is truly part of handball.”

“I think people like people who rush in more.”

"The audience likes the moment. The team needs someone who can hold the moment afterward."

Tram tried again. This time she rotated faster, her heel lightly touching the line. Chi blew once and Tram stopped.

“Error?”

"Don't know yet. Check again."

They used slow motion tape. The tip of Tram's shoe is only a very small distance from the line. She watched it three times, each time with a different facial expression. First time angry. Second time doubting. The third time I started to understand.

“If I can't see it, someone else has to see it for me?” Tram asked.

"No one can see for you forever. You have to learn to ask when you're not sure."

“If I ask, do I think I'm weak?”

“Some people would think so.”

“What about you?”

“I think you know you need data.”

Tram laughed. “That doesn't sound like a compliment.”

“Praise doesn't help you stay out of line.”

The main practice session begins with dividing the squad according to the work schedule. Ngan only had an hour because she had to pick up her sister. Huyen asked to change sales shifts. Vi ran in late, her hair was still wet, but didn't give a long explanation. Manh looked at his watch, then pointed to the warm-up section.

"Warm up for a full ten minutes. No one shortens it because they're late."

“I'll make it up at the end,” Vi said.

"No compensation. I'll start the lesson after I finish it."

Vi did not argue. She ran around outside, counting her beats. Tram looked after. She used to think a strong team was one where everyone was there at the same time. Now she sees that the team can also be people coming from different hours but still know to wait for each other at a common point.

In the coordination game, Manh asked each person to state a condition they needed to play well. Ngan needs to see the passer clearly. Huyen needs to know the time of the attack. Vi needs a few minutes to warm up her wrist. The file must not be pulled into the blind area close to the line. Vy needs the defender to tell her where to run early.

Manh writes everything on the board.

“Not a claim,” he said. “It's information so the team doesn't keep people guessing.”

Chi sat at the next table, learning how to mark milestones. She realized that she had once considered those needs as a personal matter for each person. If the player is tired, he will bear it, if his hand hurts, he will report it. If he can't see it, he will avoid it. A women's team with little budget is often praised for being hard-working, then that same praise is used to force them to endure more.

At the end of the session, Vi asked about quitting work. "If the semi-finals take place on time, I will ask for a shift change. But if it is delayed due to an incident, I will have to choose to leave in the middle of the match or lose my job."

No one said “try harder”. Manh asked: "What support team do you need?"

"One person will notify the owner if I'm late. And if there is a replay, please ask the organizers to help with the bus fare."

Please write in the book. Diep at the back of the yard heard it and said he would put the request in the conditions document.

Vi looked at her. “Can you write down such a small thing?”

"Small job for someone with flexible working hours. Not small for me."

Tram tied her shoe laces. “If everyone wrote down everything they needed, the paper would be very long.”

“The paper is longer than a person being removed from the team because he can't ride,” Diep replied.

That night, Lightning ate at a small restaurant near the dormitory. There is no pre-match party. Manh forbids talking about tactics at the dinner table, but everyone still unconsciously arranges their chopsticks into a barrier. Vi told the story of a batch of cakes that burned. Ngan said her sister is learning the names of the players. Tram asked Chi why he was the former player subjects sat at the table again.

“Because I want to understand the whole game,” Chi said.

“Or because you don't want to leave the team?”

The question quiets the dinner table. Chi looked at the bowl of soup in front of her. "Both."

Vy put down her chopsticks. “Leaving a position does not mean leaving a team.”

I don't thank you. She just nodded.

After the meal, Vi had to go to work again. Tram took her to the alley and asked if she needed to carry a bag. Vi refused, but let Tram keep the jacket. The two walked side by side under the yellow light.

“Are you scared?” Tram asked.

“Afraid.”

“Afraid of losing?”

“Fear of the match taking place in conditions where people don't know if they lost because they played poorly or because they weren't given fair play.”

Tram was silent. She remembers the first day she joined the team, everyone said she just needed to be stronger and faster. No one ever told her she needed to know the floor, the hours, the whistle, and her rights.

Tomorrow, she will try to score. But she will also try to keep both feet where she knows they are safe.