Tales of the Tournaments

Netherlands vs. Portugal 1-0, halftime

"Daan."

Danielle van de Donk was too busy glaring at Stefanie van der Gragt's head, imagining the younger woman incinerating under her stare, to hear captain Sherida Spitse at first. 

"Daan." Sherida snapped her fingers in front of Danielle's face, making the midfielder jump. "Stop that. What are you doing?"

"Just had enough of Stef and her prancing around," Daan ground out, turning away sharply.

Sherida shook her head. "If you want to be celebrated for scoring, then score. Don't take it out on Stef."

"I didn't do anything."

"You were thinking it. Knock it off. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Daan scowled darkly.

Sherida left it at that as the second half began.

As the minutes ticked by, Stefanie charged around the pitch, trying to find another goal for the Netherlands. Daan was trying to find one, too, but wasn’t getting anywhere.

And Ellie expects me to score, she thought. The thought of what her Ellie would say if she failed in that continued to darken Daan’s mood.

In the seventy-eighth minute, everything came to a head, and Daan lashed out in her frustration at the nearest Portuguese player, yanking Catarina Amado around by the arm and swinging her out in a complete 180, spinning away from Daan, though she managed to stay on her feet.

The ref’s whistle screeched over the field, and Daan’s blood froze as she caught Sherida’s expression.

Oh. Oh fuck. Daan’s instinct was to run, but something held her in place as the yellow card flashed out.

A handful of subs were made on the Portuguese side, including taking Catarina out, whisking her away for the physios to look at. Only a couple minutes later, Daan, too, was called off the field, replaced by Damaris Egurrola, her (and Ellie’s) Lyon teammate. The younger midfielder flashed Daan a concerned look, but Daan didn’t say anything to Damaris, just hurrying to the dressing room with her mind spinning.

Sherida was going to kill her. At least, probably. And she had ten and some more minutes alone to think about it.

Well, not entirely alone. She was joined a little while later by Lineth Beerensteyn, but the twenty-six-year-old forward largely ignored Daan - whether because she was in awe of Daan, or more likely because she didn’t want to get tangled up in Daan’s trouble, Daan couldn’t say. So Daan was left alone to pace, anger and annoyance burning deep in her chest. She nearly tripped over Sherida when the rest of the Dutch team returned, and as Sherida reached out a hand to steady her, Daan shoved it away.

“Fuck you, Spitse!”

“That’s inappropriate, Danielle,” Sherida said quietly. “Do you want me to tell Sari you’ve been throwing tantrums again?”

The threat was like a bucket of ice water thrown in Daan’s face. She gasped, shaking her head, knowing it wasn’t an idle threat, and immediately backtracked.

“No, not Sari, please, Sherida, I’m sorry!”

“It’s too late to be sorry, Danielle,” Sherida said grimly. “I’m not going to tell Sari, but you’re going to when it’s time to go home. Best hope I don’t have anything else for you to tell her by then.”

Daan’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as she dropped her gaze. “What’s going to happen to me, Captain?” she asked, much more respectfully. But it was too late for Sherida’s ruffled feathers to be soothed by that. Shaking her head, Sherida led Daan to the sinks, unwrapping a new bar of soap and lathering up a clean cloth.

“Open up, Danielle. We’ll handle the disrespect first of all.”

Daan sputtered in indignation. “Sherida, I’m not five years old,” she protested.

“Then don’t sound like it. Open up,” the Dutch captain ordered, and Daan groaned, knowing she had no choice but to take her soaping quietly. Reluctantly, Daan obeyed, and as Sherida pushed the cloth into Daan’s mouth, Daan tried to distance herself from the proceedings by thinking of Ellie.

I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m with Ellie and we’re celebrating because we won, Daan thought, but the bitterness of the soap, and the suds cut through her pleasant daydream, and she coughed and sputtered, whimpering as Sherida brought her back to the present. 

“That’s enough out of you, Danielle van de Donk. I won’t have you behaving so disgracefully,” Sherida snapped, her voice laden with disappointment. She folded her arms and glared at her disgraced teammate, keeping her in suspense for a couple minutes. Finally, Daan took the water Sherida gave her to rinse out, but the bitterness of the soap lingered. 

“I am not done with you young lady. We’re just getting started,” Sherida said. “That was for the swearing, we haven’t even begun addressing that yellow card. It could have been a red you know.”

Daan groaned. “Sherida…”

“No. You do not go yanking other players around like that.” Sherida returned to the bench in the locker room, opening Daan’s cubby and fishing out one of her personal paddles - wooden, narrower, lighter, and somewhat longer than the normal team paddle. 

“Shorts and knickers down and bend over, Danielle.”

Daan hissed through her teeth, wanting to argue it, but she took one look at Sherida and knew it was pointless. She turned away, pulling her shorts and briefs down to just below her bottom, bending over and putting her hands on the bench, holding tightly to it. It didn’t take long for the first swat to fall.

“Oh, fu--” Daan sucked in a breath, cutting herself off mid-curse. Sherida smirked to herself, though honestly she wouldn’t have censured Daan for swearing during a paddling, swearing in pain and swearing out of disrespect were different. She was focused on disciplining Daan for the yellow card, nothing else mattered right now. So she paddled Daan soundly, watching the younger midfielder squirm and sob. Her bottom was a hot pink almost verging on red before Sherida considered Daan’s lesson sufficiently taught, and Daan was clinging hard to the bench, trying not to put her hands back.

“Ow, ow, Sherida, please,” Daan was blubbering now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Sherida, I won’t do it again!”

Sherida finished the paddling with one final swat to Daan’s sit spots, then pulled her to stand back up and tugged her clothes back into place for her. She pulled Daan gently into her arms, letting Daan cry on her shoulder until she was calm.

“I don’t love having to paddle you, Daan,” Sherida stroked Daan’s hair lightly. “But if you’re going to behave like that, I will. So let’s hope it stops now.”

“Yes ma’am,” Daan whimpered.

“If there’s a next time, you’ll be answering to the other captain, too,” Sherida warned, and Daan groaned.

“Oh please, no, Sherida…you wouldn’t…”

“Don’t try me and you won’t find out.”

Sighing, Daan nodded. “...Alright.”

“Okay. Let’s get you back to your hotel room, and you go to bed. I think you’re in need of a nap, little one.” Sherida patted Daan’s shoulder, and Daan grimaced, but didn’t argue it.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good girl.” 

As the Dutch left the lockers together to head back to their hotel, Daan let her mind wander. If you do it again you’ll be answering to the other captain, too. Fuck no. She prayed fervently that wouldn’t become an issue.

That remained to be seen.