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flemingsgirl · 3 months ago

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Long way

TW: Mention of an injury, self doubt

This is your story of rising in your team and the growing friendship on this journey.

Your story starts way back in October 2012 when you were called for camp for the under 17 championship qualification on home soil in Oosterwolde and Meppel, your first ever call up for the Dutch national team.

It was unbelievable to you and your family for you to take a further step and play for your nation. Playing at Twente you have seen some of the player on the pitch already knowing how strong and talented they are, in the back of your head the though manifests itself you’re not fitting in, not being worthy for the bagde to be worn by you.

After the arrival at the camp, the first hours of the day were used to gather the player in the prep room, and all the instructions for the training week were shared. Further, the rooming was hung up.

Jill Roord, Vivianne Miedema, Laura Strik and Y/F/N Y/L/N

All well-known names in the Vrouwen Eredivisie. As you read Jill’s name, you let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Miedema’s name often came up whether it was in the TV, the talks at home or in your team, she is one of the faces of the Dutch football believing she’ll have a massive impact for changes.

An arm sling around your shoulder, “no one’s ever going to separate us,” she winks at you.

“No never,” you shake your head in agreement bringing your arm around her middle.

Well, you and Jill played in Twente since you can think, going to the same school, spending free time outside with her brothers most time playing football, you two would always win against your opponent’s indifferent if they were three or four.

“I’m really glad you’re finally called up as well you made such progress.”

“Wow thank you Jilly. I’m so excited,” you two jump up and down as you waited for the elevator.

As you step into your room, the other two are already making themselves at home. The voices of Jill and you as you chatter about all and nothing, fill the else silence air. “Well look at you Vivianne,” Jill opens her arms for the older one to embrace her. “Looking fine in something other than your football kit,” the pair chuckled and entangled from one another. “Laura,” she steps over to the other girl, hugging her as well. “This is Y/N,” she points at you, and you wave back to them. “It’s her first call up, so let’s not frighten her too much.”

Vivianne is the first to make a move and you hold your hand out to her she ignores it and throws her arms around you, her scent somewhat flowery and sweetish lingers in your nose, calming your body. “Nice to meet you, I can imagine how nervous you must be.”

“Yeah well, words can’t even describe my state,” you drag a chuckle out, and Viv gives you a one-sided smile. “But I think I’ll get over it.”

“That’s for sure.”

The first days of training were hard. You didn’t quite fit into the group other than your three roommates, but it was on good tracks. It was game night for the whole team, and you were split into groups constructed that the rooms didn’t pair. The conversations came quite easy and felt light, much laughter were exchanged, and you felt involved, not the first time call up attained in the group.

On your way back to your room, Viv reaches your side as you stand in front of the elevator. “I was thinking maybe you wanna go on a walk,” she rubs her neck, her eyes avoiding you.

“I’m up to it.” The brunette smiled shyly and leads the way.

Strolling around the campus and partly in the near spinney, you get to know the striker. “With your name everywhere there’s a lot of pressure on you, right?”

“Yeah, you can say that. Mostly hope for the nation.”

“Oh yes, promising the change and leading to wins and all that,” you gesture with your hand.

“Right. Did we play against each other?”

“Last matchday,” you chuckle. “It was my debut for Twente in the senior. But only twenty minutes or so.”

“Sorry for crashing it,” she shoves your shoulder as she chuckles.

“Don’t worry I’ll get over it.”

“What’s your impression on camp after your first days?”

“Everyone’s so nice and calm and lovely. It had quite a bad start, but it’s all good now. I’m enjoying the time.”

“That’s good to hear, thankfully. We’re like a family.

“Seemingly yeah. But I don’t think I’ll get much time to play. No experiences and new.”

“I wouldn’t say that in my first year I had my starting eleven debut and got to play.”

You roll your eyes, “well, yeah, but not everyone is Ms Vivianne Miedema.”

She places her hand over her heart. “Ouch.” She says while brushing off a fake tear. “Jealous?” Viv’s head turns towards you, and she winks at you.

“Just ambitious to reach that as well,” a smirk creeps on your lips, nudging her side. “You don’t need to hold the whole nation on your shoulder. Taking some package from you.”

“Sweet of you, no one ever offered me.”

“I mean you’re young shouldn’t be doing it all by yourself.”

Vivianne raises her arm to lay it around your shoulder, stopping, you notice out of the corner of your eye and you rest your arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to you, she takes it as an invitation places her arm down.

“I was starstrucked when I knew you’d be here,” you broke the silence that fell between you.

“Why? I’m as much a girl as you.”

“Well, you’re still Viv Miedema.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, your name precedes you.”

“In a bad way?” You lean closer into her side, bringing some pressure on her figure.

“No, never just blown away by it, making it difficult to get to know you, the real you. Being impressed by your talent and reputation.”

“I understand. But it’s getting better, right?”

“Yeah, it does,” a light laughter is exchanged between you. “Mostly cause you’re not on the field.”

“I can make it easy for you.”

You caught as breath is stuck in your trachea. “How do you imagine?”

“Doing something in private.”

“We’re already doing something...."

“Yes,” her head lowers, eyes glued on the ground, and a pout settles on her face what you couldn’t see. What you could sense was how her arm backed from you, no longer spending warmth to your slightly shivering body.

“You alright?”

She shrugs her shoulder; you stop, but she keeps walking, and you reach for her arm. “Viv,” you spin her around her eyes, avoiding you. “I think we can get a coffee the next day if that’s all right with you.” The corners of her mouth slowly turn up as she moves her eyes to lock them with yours, stars sparkling in them.

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

The days flew by and sooner rather than later your time at the Dutch camp is over. You got a few minutes in the game, which were celebrated by the team, but mostly with Jill and Viv. Both came running to you after the final whistle was blown, and they lifted you into the sky.

You make your way back home ready to continue the season, with many new formed friendships. Keep in touch with some girls, and every now and then calls you sometimes meet up with a smaller group, including Jill and Viv, as well.

Getting called for the next round of the qualifiers didn’t excite you that much knowing Viv wouldn’t be there due to an injury that happened in one of the latest games in the season. “Stop moping around. You got me rabbit,” Jill shoves you in your seat next to her.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes playfully, and the girl just huffs. “What would I do without you, Jill Jamie Roord,” a sarcastic tone lingering in your voice.

“I hate you too,” she turns away from you and starts a conversation with some other players.

To say Jill was right, oh absolutely, how you were moped and devastated that the familiar warmth and her loving smile couldn’t support in the games you were playing in the line-up. Nevertheless, the losses you went through and the fact you couldn’t qualify.

Arriving back at home, you were met with your family, and as soon as their embrace spent you warmth and support you, let all the tears flow. You were repressing the whole journey. The ringing of the doorbell interrupts the trembling of your body. “Hello Mr. Y/L/N,” her voice singing in your ears, bringing you back to earth. Turning your tired body around your reddish eyes wander over to the girl in the doorframe. You dry some of the tears, giving her a half-sided smile.

“What are you doing here?”

Your parents took the cue and left you alone. “Well nice to see you too,” she steps closer, her arms tracing around your figure, pulling you into her, your head resting in the crock of her neck. “It’s alright,” her finger cradled your head. “We can’t always win.” A quick peck was placed on the crown of your head. “I’m proud of you, so much, starting eleven, how excited. The new face of the Dutch.”

A caught escapes your lips closely followed by a giggle, “oh shut up.”

“Your first goal as well. You don’t love it?”

“Well of course, yes, but it hasn’t helped us. Out of the tournament.” You buried further into her, “and couldn’t celebrate with my favorite person,” you whisper against her skin, the warmth of your breath causing goosebumps to form on her body.

“Can you repeat yourself?” she breaks your closeness, her blue eyes darting at you.

“You weren’t supposed to hear it anyway.”

“I heard something with favourite person.”

“That’s all you need to know.”

Qualifying for the under 19 European championship the next year, you started every game behind Vivianne and beside Jill, the perfect trio, creating chances, great crosses, and even better goals. Carrying your team into the finale. You met Katie McCabe the first time in the qualifier as she tackled you, mostly successfully separating you from the ball, but mostly. This one time, her studs meeting your ankle, you wrap your hand around it as you fell to the floor, face scrunched in the pain, and wince escapes your lips you were subbed off.

Your next encounter followed three months later in the semi-final. You hold no grunge against the Irish player. She’s a talented young woman, and she knows it. Knocking them out was your revenge.

And when the final whistle blows in the last game, you sank to your knees, your face buried in your hands as you let them meet the ground as well. Crying and chuckling that’s the state you were in when Viv throws herself on top of you, the two of you crashing onto the ground. “I can’t believe it!” her scream fills your ear. “You were so unbelievable.”

You turn under her body now facing her, tears running down her cheeks as well. “You scored the game winning goal,” you shout back.

“With your assistant!”

“Crafty Ms Miedema,” Jill lays her body on top of you two. “We made it!”

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