Dinner, at least, was ample and delicious. Platter after platter of hot food arrived at their long table in the hotel dining room. They kept refilling their plates, delighted with the roast beef, chicken, rice—all foods that they recognized. There were bowls of tropical fruits for dessert and glass dishes filled with creamy gelato. They were the only guests aside from a noisy group at the bar. The team relaxed and ate their fill. Lupe stood to make an announcement.
“We’ll come back to the hotel after the game to get dressed for tomorrow’s dinner. No sneakers or jeans. This event is intended to be fancy. After that, the schedule depends on how we play.” She looked from player to player, making sure she had their attention. “If we win the first game, we get a half-day breather; if not, we play a morning game on the next day. One more thing: We all will follow conditioning rules while we are here.” Some of the girls were squirming in their seats. “You know what that means. Early to bed, no alcohol, and no men. Believe me, you are going to get plenty of offers.” To set a good example, the coach stepped toward the door. “I’m exhausted. See you in the morning, ladies.”
The team remained seated and looked at one another. In Long Beach, evenings were their own affair. No one expected them to abide by a curfew. The noises coming from the bar continued to rise.
“Aye, es el equipo de Guadalajara cada semana.” A server cleared the table and stopped to listen for a moment.
“What did he say?” Molly asked.
“It’s the Guadalajara soccer team in the bar. Apparently, they are here once a week.” Selina watched her teammates’ curiosity perk up. “Maybe we should have a look.” A chant resonated from behind the swinging bar doors.
“Olas! Olas! Olas!” The waiter waved a white napkin in time to the refrain.
“They are calling out to the Waves, to us,” Selina said. The entire team rose and headed for the swinging doors that led toward the bar and the young men chanting their team’s name in Spanish.
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