Fear Factor

For the country's most successful high school girls' lacrosse team, nothing was scarier than losing -- except maybe the relentless demand for perfection

CAITLIN O'MALLEY WALKED ONTO THE FIELD FOR THE FIRST PRACTICE OF THE SEASON--her hair pulled into a pigtail, her cleats polished -- and felt the sinking sensation of dread. Damn. How many times had she promised to arrive here prepared? How often had she resolved to throw a lacrosse ball against the wall after school, or to spend an hour each day practicing in the backyard goal her parents gave her for Christmas? Yet here she was, a senior goalie at Mount Hebron High School, slated to play the most high-pressured position for the most high-pressured lacrosse team in Maryland. And she wasn't ready.

With temperatures in the mid-30s, two other Mount Hebron spring sports teams had canceled practice on this first day of March. Another practice had been moved inside to the school gym. But on a windy field in Ellicott City, the most dominant girls' lacrosse team in U.S. high school history trudged onto the muddy field. The Vikings hadn't lost a game in five years. This season they would be defending 10 consecutive Maryland state titles and a 97-game winning streak. Nothing, least of all weather, would derail them today.

Forty teenagers tossed down their lacrosse sticks and spread out to stretch. Caitlin stood between two assistant coaches and studied the girls who would rely on her for the next three months. There was Cindy Heiser, a blond senior who had joined the wrestling team to build upper-body strength for lacrosse. There was Monica Zabel, a lanky attacker so desperate to play for Mount Hebron that she had forfeited a year of eligibility to avoid being redistricted to another high school. There were five senior co-captains, starters since their freshman seasons, who had vowed to complete their careers without ever losing a game. They had been called the best senior class in Hebron lacrosse history, and the captains intended to prove it.

Caitlin also noticed who was absent -- the team's other senior goalie, the girl with whom Caitlin hoped to share the burden of playing the loneliest position in lacrosse. Caitlin turned to Tommy McClelland, the offensive coordinator who stood to her right.

"Where's Stephanie?" Caitlin asked. "How come she's not here today?"

"She actually decided not to come out this year," Tommy said. "That means you're it, kid."

Caitlin was floored by the news that Stephanie was giving up lacrosse to focus on field hockey. But she forced a confident smile, slid on her helmet and jogged to the goal. For the next 30 minutes, she stood in front of a 6-by-6-foot cage while her teammates scrimmaged. Caitlin liked playing goalie for its rare bursts of action. With the ball flying toward the goal, her job was refreshingly mindless: a 50-mph shot, a reflex motion and an immediate result. It was the time between shots that bothered her.

When Hebron's offense controlled the ball on the other end of the field, Caitlin stood alone and clenched her lacrosse stick. She looked out from behind her face mask with nothing but time to think. To anticipate. To worry. To doubt.

Caitlin had never aspired to become the guardian of the longest official winning streak in the history of high school lacrosse. She'd been a midfielder until December of her sophomore year, when she volunteered to fill in for a sick goalie during a meaningless indoor scrimmage. After Caitlin made a few nice saves, the Hebron coaches encouraged her to switch positions permanently. She consented, knowing she might not see much playing time otherwise. She started playing goalie with a hand-me-down helmet three sizes too big and tattered gloves borrowed from a friend on the Hebron boys' team. Two years later, Caitlin had yet to replace those gloves.

As this season's first practice progressed, Tommy and his wife, head coach Brooke Kuhl-McClelland, stood near the goal and evaluated Caitlin. They noted that she struggled to block low shots, and that she held the ball too long before passing it off to teammates. But based on pure skill alone, the coaches agreed, Caitlin had the instincts and reflexes to become a solid starting goalie and maybe even one of Maryland's best. She just needed to stay composed, the coaches said.

In her career at Hebron, Caitlin had developed a reputation as an emotional pendulum. She jumped and bounced her way through pregame introductions, hyping herself into a kinetic frenzy that teammates described as "the Tornado." Then, if she gave up a few goals, she sometimes hung her stick and wallowed in failure, even as the game continued around her.

"We just need to keep her from getting too stressed," Brooke told Tommy as they watched Caitlin bat away a shot with her shoe. "She'll be fine, as long as she stays calm."