On the Edge of the List

This was not an official match, yet it felt more like war than many official matches. The white team screamed like madmen, and the blue team looked furious. Brooks stood still, staring at Mason lying on the grass. Mason held his knee, his forehead covered in cold sweat. The doctor ran on. "I told you not to add load!" "Did the ball go in?" Mason asked. "It went in." "Then it's fine." Brooks walked over and looked down at him. "Do you always have to do that?" Mason breathed hard. "Do what?" "Play like tomorrow doesn't exist." Mason looked up at him. "For me, it almost didn't." Brooks was silent. That night, the final twenty-six-man roster was announced at U.S. Soccer headquarters.