Page 59 of The Session

Mark had the girls and boys line up on opposite sides. Although there were two more girls than boys, it was clear few of them spent much time on the soccer field.

“This does not seem fair,” one of the girls complained.

“Don’t worry,” Mark whispered. He announced to everyone, “I’ve made my decision,” raised a finger, and pointed it toward the line of boys.

“I choose . . .” he began, then quickly pointed toward Ozzy, who was standing next to his entourage laughing. “My friend Ozzy!”

The children noticed him for the first time.

Ozzy ran out to the field, and Mark tossed him the ball.

Ozzy bounced it off his head and proceeded to juggle it from his knees to his toes to the delight of the children—especially the girls, who realized he would be their teammate.

“Wait,” a boy named Adam protested. “Is he a pro?”

“You were laughing a minute ago,” Mark reminded him.

Ozzy took his position next to the girls, who were now excited to play, and they started giving him high fives.

“Okay, normal football—just two rules. If one of the bigger players knocks down a girl, that will cost you two pizzas,” Mark warned. “If one of the bigger players knocks down Ozzy, I didn’t see it happen. Ready!”

He tossed the ball into the air and stood back to let the game begin.

Ozzy was too much of a sportsman to rub it completely in the boys’ faces. After scoring a couple of quick goals, he spent most of the game setting up the girls so he could get the ball to them and they could score. This evened things out a bit while still allowing him to control the game, but the level of trash talk he received from the frustrated boys’ team remained high. When things grew too quiet, Mark stepped in and instigated more playful banter.

The game ended with the girls at nineteen points and the boys at eight. All had enjoyed it, even the boys, who were both frustrated and amazed by Ozzy’s athleticism.

At first, Coach Andrelli had a skeptical look on his face and muttered to his assistants about how useless this was, but then he noticed the smile on Ozzy’s face—how much he enjoyed positioning the girls on his team to score and using his agility to navigate around the field. It was clear Ozzy was having the time of his life.

At the end of the game, Ozzy walked up to Mark and said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. This might have been a complete waste of your time. You might’ve been better off doing drills.”

“Win or lose,” said Ozzy, “at least you helped me remember why I love the game.”

Tru was on her phone from the time the game ended until the private jet reached altitude.

“Andrelli called Fonseca to complain,” she reported.

“He should be happy. If Ozzy doesn’t make it, he can blame me.”

“Be honest with me. What are his chances?” Tru asked.

“I don’t know—same as before. At least I think he’s at peace with the game now. And I know that may not help your agenda, but it probably helped him,” Mark replied.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sell that to his father,” Tru said.

“That sounds like a Tru problem, not a Mark problem,” he replied. “You wanted a pep talk, you got a pep talk.”

He looked out the window and noticed the sun was in the opposite direction of where they were headed.

“We’re not going back to Miami?” Mark asked.

“I thought we might grab some seafood at Amanda’s. It’s a nice little restaurant on Eleuthera,” Tru replied.

“More Summit properties?” Mark asked.

“Nothing major. It’s just a nice spot. Sound good?”