The stadium towered over the neighborhood pitch, its steel walls gleaming in the sun. Mateo pressed his nose to the chain-link fence.
One by one, the players hopped off the pitch. One clutching his knee, another rubbing his ankle. Mateo's pennant drooped into his lap.
Mateo marched onto the grass. "Olimpia! Olimpia!" he shouted until his voice cracked. The players kept taping their ankles.
He spotted a yellow megaphone under the bench. Mateo snatched it up and barked "Olimpia!" The sound bounced off the stadium walls.
The players jumped. A water bottle clattered to the ground. Then they burst into laughter. The captain shook his head and held up six fingers.
"We only have six," the captain said, and kicked a ball toward Mateo. It rolled to his sneakers and stopped. Mateo tied his pennant around the ball.
Mateo held out the ribboned ball. They passed it back and forth, laughing when it bounced off a head and rolled into the grass.
The six of them moved together like one team. Mateo waved his pennant and cheered, louder than ever, as the stadium cast golden shadows.