Chapter 5 — Across the Six Meter Line

Vu Khanh Vy did not celebrate in the dressing room. She sat on the bench, unwrapped her wrists, and looked at the wood dust on her socks. The semi-finals were over, but her hands remained in position to push the last ball out of the bottom corner.

“Are you not happy?” Tram asked.

"Fun."

“Not the same.”

Vy looked at her. “You want me to dance?”

Tram smiled, but the smile disappeared when Chi entered. The former goalkeeper stood outside the door, holding a record book in his hand, not holding the ball like in previous years.

“The organizing committee will meet tomorrow morning,” Chi said. "The provisional result is 24-23. They need to check the log."

Vi put down the water bottle. “How long does the test take?”

“Don't know yet.”

“Will the final match be postponed?”

“Don't know yet.”

Vy smiled faintly. “Did you learn this at the secretary's desk?”

Chi looked at her. “I learn from the way time stands still.”

“No. I learned to stand outside and say everything needs to be checked.”

Manh walked in, but Vy raised her hand to stop him. She wanted to tell Chi first.

“I've been away from the team for seven years,” Vy said. “You can't come back with a set of minutes and tell us to wait.”

"I didn't tell the team to wait. I told the results to be recorded correctly."

"Do you know what I saw when you sat at the table? I saw the person who used to stand in the goal was now looking at the team from behind a clock."

Chi tightened the stack of papers. "I've been in goal. I know how the team wins."

“I know what the team loses when I leave.”

No one said. Vi looked down at her shoes. Tram didn't understand everything but felt she shouldn't touch the ball.

Chi put the minutes on the table. “I left because my knee wouldn't let me continue.”

“It's not just about the knee.”

"Correct."

Vy waits.

"I left because every time I looked at the floor seam, I thought someone else would fall. I left because if I stayed, I had to admit I was no longer the one saving the ball. I left because I was afraid people would remember me like an injured leg."

Vy did not calm down. “Do you think the people who stay behind aren't afraid?”

"Have."

"I'm scared every time I rush out. But I'm still here. Not to prove that I'm stronger than you. Because the team needs a goalkeeper."

Chi looked at Vy's red shirt. "I know."

"I don't know. If I knew, I wouldn't look at me as a substitute every time I correct a lesson."

Manh spoke up. "Enough."

Vy turned to him. "It's not enough. From the day she returned to the table, everyone said Chi understood the rules, Chi knew the seams, Chi scored well. And I was just the person standing in her old goal."

Chi wanted to refute, but none of the sentences were correct. She unconsciously compared Vy's rushes with the way she used to catch the ball. That's a form of favoritism that's not on the record.

“Vy,” Chi said, “I have no right to change you into me.”

“Then don't do it.”

“I won't.”

Vy took off her wrist bandage. “Train goalkeeping with me tomorrow.”

I thought I heard wrong. “I no longer compete.”

“Training does not mean going back.”

The next morning, Chi stood in the goal. She wasn't wearing a goalkeeper shirt, just an old training shirt. Vy throws the balls not too hard, forcing Chi to move at an angle. Chi's left knee was stiff after two changes of direction. She doesn't hide.

“Don't dodge,” Vy said.

“I don't dodge.”

“I'm taking small steps so I don't have to trust my feet.”

Chi looked at the six meter line. “You talk like a coach.”

“You speak as if you were standing behind me.”

Vy threw. Chi pushes the ball with both hands, slower than before but in the right direction. The ball rolled out to the sideline.

“Again,” Vy said.

After twenty minutes, Chi gasped. Tram stood outside and watched. She asked if it was a trick Subjects must always step over the zero line.

Vy answered: "No. We protect our area, but sometimes we have to rush out to cut the ball. The important thing is to know when to return."

I heard that sentence as if it were for me.

At the secretary's desk, Luan and Diep analyzed the log. The electronic board received a stop command at 00:06 but the power supply fluctuated for about 0.8 seconds. Chi's watch started a bit early in the second half. Mechanical watches are slow. No source is enough to show whether six seconds were lost or just displayed incorrectly.

“Can you rebuild it?” Chi asked.

“It is possible to build up possibilities, it is impossible to choose one without the signal from the source board,” Luan said.

“Then send it all.”

Diep looked at her. “The organizers want a short conclusion.”

“They may get the short end of the stick that it can't be determined yet.”

The team meeting took place that afternoon. Manh read the announcement: final match postponed; Lightning gets to keep the semi-final results until a decision is made. If the organizers confirm 24-23, the team enters the final. If not, the match will be replayed at another stadium.

Vi asked if kicking back would count as shift work. Manh said he would ask for support. Vi said support may not come before rent.

Tram asked what if he lost and played again. No one said "try your best". Vy said: "We know we lost in a well-timed match."

Manh looked at her, then at Chi. “I want the team to prepare both possibilities.”

Only put three lines on the board: keep the result, replay, or the match is canceled because of insufficient data. No lines have an asterisk.

“The team may not like me,” she said, “but I can't sign that I know the unknown.”

Vi asked: "What if your signature causes the team to lose the finals?"

Chi replied: "That is the responsibility of the signature, not the fault of the person asking the question."

Vy looked at Chi for a moment, then stood up. "Tomorrow the team will vote. Not to decide whether they like Chi or not. To decide what the team wants to be remembered for."

That night, Chi came home with a dull pain in her knee. She opened the old shoe box and saw a trail of wood dust still in the sole groove. She thought she left the field to forget it. Turns out the dust was just waiting for another match to return.

On the phone, Luan sent a line: "I haven't found six seconds yet. But I found it when we stopped checking."

After reading it, Chi did not reply immediately. She looked at the clock on the wall. The second hand goes past six, without stopping, without asking anyone for recognition.

After the meeting, Vy found Chi in the physical therapy room. Chi is using an elastic band to practice bending her knees, counting each pull. One, two, three, four. At six, she stopped, let go of the rope, and then started again.

“Why are you counting six?” Vy asked.

"Do nothing."

“I just stopped at six.”

“Because my legs are tired.”

Vy sat down in the chair opposite. “You can say your legs are tired without making it a sign.”

Just remove the wire. “Are you here to talk about the electronic board or the knee?”

“Both are things I looked at for too long.”

Chi did not respond. Vy placed a file on the table. "This is the roster list. The organizers want you to sit at the table in the semi-finals. Hanh is the assistant. Luan takes care of the table."

"I know."

“Have you answered them yet?”

"Not yet."

“Because you want to enter the field?”

“Because if I sat at the table, everyone would think I was placed there because I could no longer play.”

Vy looked straight at her. “You were put there because you know what the game needs.”

“You say that because you pity me?”

“I said because I needed you to speak louder and you didn't.”

The atmosphere in the room changed. Just remember I was injured. After the slide, she sat outside, listened to her teammates question the referee, and heard Manh tell her to focus on the rest. She thought she just needed to endure the pain a little more. When the car took her to the doctor, everyone was busy with the match. No one intentionally left her behind, but silence can leave a person behind without malice.

“I didn't know what to say at that moment,” Chi said.

"You can say the ground is slippery. You can say you need to stop. You can say you don't know."

“I think if I spoke, everyone would lose their rhythm.”

“Everyone has lost her.”

Chi closed her eyes. That sentence is not an accusation, but it hurts more than an accusation.

Vy stood up and went to the tool cabinet to get a ball. She placed the ball in front of Chi. “Throw it to me.”

“There is no goal here.”

“I will make the goal.”

Vy stepped back, spreading her arms. Chi held the ball, her knee was uncomfortable but not painful. She threw it lightly. Vy helps. The second time, the prosthetic limb throws to the right and then pushes the ball to the left. Vy caught it with one hand.

“You can still read my shoulders,” Vy said.

“Because I lifted my right shoulder first.”

“I did it on purpose.”

“Then you have to do better.”

Vy laughed. "There. I'm still me when I'm not in goal."

They practice ten results. Chi stops at the eleventh fruit. She put the ball down, not waiting for Vy to ask. Vy nodded, as if stopping at the right time was also a save.

That night, Chi accepted the invitation to sit at the table. She texted Diep that she needed an electrical diagram and a schedule to check the field before the match. Diep replied with a photo of a thick stack of papers, along with the sentence: "You made me use more staples."

Chi passed the information to Manh. He just replied: “Thank you.”

She waited for something else, like confirmation that she still belonged to the team. Do not have. She realized she was too used to needing others to call her location.

The next morning, she arrived at the yard early. Hanh was at the table, trying to stop the time according to the recorded whistle. Luan sat next to the board. The two stopped when they saw Chi.

“Which chair do you sit in?” Hanh asked.

“Sit behind the desk, don't touch my watch.”

“If you ask?”

“You answer the process part, don't click instead.”

Luan pointed to a column in the book. “I want to record the time on the feedback board.”

“Write it down.”

Hanh looked at Chi. “You really don't interfere?”

"If you intervene, the match will still be correct the way you want it. The goal is for the match to be correct in a way that everyone can check."

Hanh nodded, but still held the pen tightly.

Vy walked across the border and heard the last sentence. She didn't stop. Just raise your hand once, as a reminder that there are things that don't need to be said further.

Chi sat down in the chair behind the desk. This position was lower than she expected, the view was obscured by the shoulder of the person taking the minutes. She didn't see the entire yard. She has to believe in people who are in corners she can't see.

It is the most difficult exercise.