“No?”Dad pulled her close again. “No,” he said, patting her back.The woman sobbed, then spread her arms and curled them around Dad in a big hu....“Oh, Mr. Horlock, you don’t know how...”Her voice abruptly cut off as Dad’s hands slid down from her shoulder blades to her waist and then farther, onto her supple buttocks.“Mr. Horlock?”“There, there. We’ll give you another chance.”Dad’s hands clutched the woman’s cheeks.“Mr. Horlock...”Dad released the woman and sat down in his chair. He took her. I wasn't breathing any harder than they were across the finish line, but if I tried to carry their pace across the full course, I would have collapsed into a quivering mass of exhaustion. I just hoped my ball-handling skills were better than theirs, so I would have an edge somewhere along the line.We ran without soccer balls most of the time. By this point in our soccer careers, it was assumed we all knew how to handle a ball sufficiently, so less emphasis was placed on dribbling and passing. More

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