The Comeback Challenge by Matt Christopher

Luckily neither of them went in for a goal.
    When the Tigers were attacking the Scorpions’ goal, he didn’t wait for the defense to clear the ball to him. Instead, he launched
     himself into the center of the play, often crashing into his own teammates in his rush to get hold of the ball for himself.
    In the final moments of the game, Mark threw an elbow at a Tiger wing right in front of the Scorpions’ goal. The ref caught
     the foul and called a penalty kick.
    The Scorpions retreated the required ten yards outside the penalty area. Charlie Burns hopped from foot to foot, getting ready
     for the Tiger wing to take his best shot. A goal now would tie the game.
    As Mark watched the ref place the ball on the penalty mark, he realized that this situation was his fault. If he had been
     playing his usual position, thegame might be over now and the Scorpions walking off the field with another win under their belts.
    Instead, he was holding his breath, waiting for the ref to blow his whistle, giving the Tiger wing the go-ahead.
    Man, what a stupid move, Mark thought. What was I thinking, playing like that?
    “Nice going, hotshot,” a voice behind him whispered mockingly.
    Mark jerked around. Vince, his hands on his knees, was glaring at him.
    All the fury Mark had felt earlier came rushing back to him. The ref’s whistle blew just as Mark was about to take a step
     toward Vince.
    Mark’s eyes followed the ball as it shot toward the goal. Charlie Burns leapt up, arms outstretched — and deflected the ball
     up and over the net!
    A moment later the clock ran out, and the Scorpions jogged off the field amid cheers from the stands.
    But Mark didn’t feel like celebrating. His mind was a jumble of angry frustration. And when he caught a glimpse of his parents,
     arguing as they left the bleachers, and of his grandparents’ faces twistedwith concern, he knew he couldn’t take any more. He turned and ran from the field as quickly as he could.
    The next morning, Mark picked at his breakfast in stony silence. Food just didn’t interest him these days — even the fancy
     dishes served at the restaurant where he’d gone with Craig and their mothers after the game. He could tell his mother had
     been disappointed, but he just couldn’t help it.
    And, on top of that, his leg had a nasty bruise where he had fallen on it the day before. When it was time to go, he slammed
     the back door and stomped down the driveway to catch the bus. He could feel his grandmother watching him, but he didn’t turn
     around.
    At school, his silence continued. He spoke only when asked a question by one of his teachers. And at soccer practice, he played
     with a ferocity he’d never shown before.
    From now on, he said to himself, nobody’s going to get near me out on this field. Nobody.
    And no one did during practice all week.
    Coach Ryan seemed impressed by Mark’s intense playing — at first. But on Thursday, he took Mark aside.
    “Listen, I know the idea is to get the ball,” he said. “But not if that means wrestling your own teammates for it. Back off
     a little, and watch for the opportunities. Remember, you are part of a team, not flying solo.”
    Mark’s scrimmage rotation had just finished. A new group of eleven guys took the field. Mark sat on the bench, watching the
     action on the field.
    “Hey, Mr. Inside, mind a little company, or would you prefer to plot your next strategy?” Craig flopped down next to Mark.
    “What do you mean?” Mark asked.
    “You’re playing every second out there like it’s your last. Like you have to control the ball as much as possible,” Craig
     replied.
    “Maybe I do,” Mark said.
    “Okay, my turn,” Craig said. “What do
you
mean?”
    “I mean it’s time I stopped letting certain people walk all over me. It’s time I looked out for myself out there. I’m playing
     to win.”
    Craig was silent for a moment. Then he crumpledup his paper cup, stood up, and said quietly, “You ever shake