12 Yards Out

by Javi Reddy

  “Remember those little kids we visited a few months back in Soweto. Remember how delighted they were to see you. What they would give to trade lives with the richly blessed ones you currently lead. Never take that for granted. All you need to value is what that badge on your shirt stands for and what it means to play for it. Nothing is different today—this is another game. And if you keep up, today will be another Rosebank victory. Do you want it? Tell me you want it!”

  The team erupted into cheers, so vocal that even the crowd peered in their direction.

  They thundered towards the field, up for the fight. The crowd began to stamp against the ground, creating a cauldron of seething emotion for their players. The ground was seething with emotion. Jay felt tears welling up inside. He was so close to missing out on all of it.

  The home crowd waved flags and scarves of blue and white as the visiting fans of the opposition congregated in the area near the goals on the far side of the field. Their green and yellow banners easily faded away in front of the monstrous home support. The Rose Park team had not yet come out. Rosebank had been on the field for nearly three minutes; minutes that seemed like hours. Rose Park were stalling. Running out immediately after Rosebank would have meant kicking off with the adrenaline still pumping through the veins of the home side. Rosebank were now waiting for them and the game would start on Rose Park’s own accord. Harrison nodded sheepishly at McArthur.

  Game on.

  They eventually came out and as they took the kick-off, bellows and jeers ushered in an ominous drumming in the grounds. Yet, still, Rose Park kept the ball, unmoved by the raucous fans. No one or no force would deter them from their mission. They weren’t offering much from an attacking perspective, but neither were Rosebank.

  The home side couldn’t get the ball off their opposition, and without the ball, Rosebank were not Rosebank. Rose Park pranced around on the pitch, in their R2000 boots and their sponsored kit. Jay had never seen a school team with two major sponsors like Adidas and Audi on their shirts. Did they get cars if they matriculated? As he let his thoughts sink in, one of the Rose Park central defenders glided past him, taking the ball to the halfway line.

  “You gonna just let him ghost through like that? Why don’t you cross for him to head home, while you’re at it?”

  Zondi was scathing. The home support had slowly grown tired of booing the opposition and would be hoarse before halftime if they keep it up. The cauldron was bubbling dour. An uncomfortable silence soon greeted the arena. This was not the quarterfinal to match the build-up.

  Thabo moved forward, ball at his feet, with his captain’s armband proudly engulfing his right bicep. He spotted Jay darting beyond the defence and heaved the ball into his path. It was just in front of Jay, exactly the type of ball he relished. He had the pace to beat this defence. Or so he thought. As he honed in on goal, he could hear a defender breathing heavily at his back. Jay pushed the ball forward, but before he could make his strike, the defender went to ground and slid to tackle the ball. The ref immediately blew his whistle.

  The challenge was just outside the box, so the free-kick was in a dangerous position. What was even more dangerous for Rose Park was the ref cantering towards the defender who had made the tackle. Their nightmare was complete. The ref hoisted a bright red card up into the overcast sky and the cheers were instant. The atmosphere had become feverish again and everyone grew more animatedly. Everyone, but Jay. He believed the defender had won the ball. As Rose Park players protested, their Coach, Vincent Masilela, ran onto the field to remonstrate with the ref. He was a burly man in a light green golf shirt, who gave people a withering glare if they upset him.

  “Tell him that I got some of the ball! Tell him, man!”

  The defender was crying out to Jay, who lay guiltily on the floor. Keith and some of the other players hauled him away from the action. The Rose Park defender had to be escorted off the field by teaching staff from Rosebank and he managed to kick a red water bottle in his attempted protest. Jay’s teammates had inadvertently pulled him aside to the corner where the Rose Park supporters sat.

  “Cheater! You’re the glory boy of Rosebank? Your whole school stinks.”

  “That’s the only way you can beat us. One-man advantage. We have all the money, hey? How much did you pay the ref, superstar?”

  Jay wanted to run over to the man in the middle and make it alright. He wanted to go into the visitors’ dressing room and drag the defender back onto the field. He ended up doing nothing. With just ten minutes gone, the advantage had swung massively in Rosebank’s favour. Even though the guilt was screeching in Jay’s ear like a diseased bat. An epic tussle between two rivals had turned into a one-sided match. Still, they had a job to do, irrespective of the decision made by the ref. Masilela sent on another central defender to replace one of Rose Park’s strikers and they immediately regrouped. The substitute turned out to be pivotal. The new defender, Musa Sihlangu, was determined to make his mark on the game, having found a starting place tough to come by. He courageously threw himself at every ball; he headed away powerfully where necessary; he stuck out his chest to block out shots; and he even took a knee to the ribs in the congested box.

  After each tussle, he got up and got on with the game. He was almost single-handedly stopping Rosebank’s path towards glory. He was a lot like Thabo, in that they both led from the back—shining examples of bravery and determination. Musa and his teammates were slowly sucking out the belief from Rosebank again.

  At halftime, the players sluggishly came off and the crowd clapped for Rosebank as awkwardly as their boys’ movements. Rose Park seemed the happier team, jogging off. Zondi let his team have it when they gathered around him.

  “I will not stand for this complacency! You acted like children after that sending off. Like arrogant children. You thought the game was already won when that red card went up. Well, I got news for you: you’re going to have to work even harder now if you want that semi-final berth!” He puffed out heavily.

  “Playing against a man less is even harder. It’s a myth that it’s easy. They flood the box even more. They’re stubborn in giving the ball away and they somehow find a hidden team-spirit when the numbers are depleted. Only one team has benefitted since that sending off and it’s sure as hell, not us!”

  Zondi threw his pen on the floor and clicked his tongue. Thabo pulled everyone together—literally gripping some of them by their collars.

  “Gents, we gotta do better. For coach and for ourselves. But mainly for that crowd. They’re here because we brought them here. And I’m sure you want to see them back here for a semi-final. We can’t let this team, of all teams, come into our own back yard and make us look like this.”

  They all shook their heads emphatically. They ran out once more, hoping to make right what they’d foolishly let slip away in the first half. Unfortunately, they still couldn’t find the break. It had gotten even worse for Jay. Every time he got the ball, he could hear the Rose Park crowd chanting: “Cheater, cheater! That’s the only way he’ll beat ya!”

  He’d been called worse—his sexuality had even been questioned by an opposite crowd once—but this latest batch of abuse hit him hard. He was off colour now, and the Rose Park players were finding it easier to take the ball off him. With 20 minutes to go, the home crowd had become hushed. Rose Park had become slightly adventurous going forward—even testing the Rosebank keeper, albeit with shots from range.

  With 18 minutes left, the Rose Park’s left winger went on a mazy and bold run. He had neared the D outside the box when Thabo slipped, and as he did so, his hand grazed the winger’s leg. It was enough for the winger to go down in the area. Everyone expected the ref to book him for his theatrics, but their hearts stopped beating when he pointed to the spot. Penalty. The ref had completed a miserable performance by getting the second big decision of the game wrong. Or perhaps he was trying to make up for the guilt of his earlier decision?

  Rose Park’s centre back placed
the ball on the spot. The way Musa had been playing, the coach felt that he could do no wrong. Musa’s run up was immense as if he were about to take part in a 100m sprint. He bolted towards the centre spot. Warren in goals remained utterly focused, and his eyes were completely on the ball and not on the boy hurtling towards him. Musa made contact, and Warren dived to his left. He guessed the right way, but the shot was too powerful and it nestled in the top corner of the net. Warren buried his gloves into his head.

  The fact that he was so close, bore testament to what a good keeper he was. Still, the score was all that mattered and Rosebank were on the brink of losing out to their rivals. Yet, again. Musa pumped his fists into the air and roared like a lion. His teammates ran over to him and embraced their latest hero.

  Rosebank tracked back to the centre circle, but something different had taken over them. Instead of being despondent after being dealt a sucker-punch, they’d found something that they’d not had this whole afternoon. Determination. The fates of the two sides had turned and Rosebank were now on the receiving end of a dubious decision. Minutes later, Thabo, who had the most reason to feel aggrieved, took his run into the opposition’s half. He knew that he’d lose the ball if he carried on further, so he offloaded it to Jay.

  Jay’s eyes lit up when he saw his captain continue his run into the box. Without even taking a touch, Jay returned the ball to him. Thabo’s touch was hefty and took the ball away from him. Strangely, Rose Park’s keeper panicked. He came blazing out of the goals, instead of waiting for the ball to trickle harmlessly to him. In doing so, he floored Thabo. It was a stone wall penalty. Rosebank knew it, and Rose Park knew it. The problem was: Did the ref know it?

  He finally got one right. He pointed to the spot. The cheer around the ground was of desperate belief. They had their lifeline. It was easily the most important kick in Rosebank’s history. The pressure that would fall onto one boy’s shoulders to deliver the equaliser would be greater than that of a heart surgeon. The players hesitated amongst themselves before Keith took the ball. He did not want to. But he was being something Keith Holmes always was—brave. He would bear the brunt of the shame if he missed.

  “No, my friend, this one’s mine.” Jay took the ball from him. “I should never have left, but I’m here now. This one’s for you guys.”

  Jay placed the ball on the penalty spot and didn’t think of which way the keeper was going to go. Or how the silence of the crowd echoed how much was at stake. He knew which way he wanted to go, and that’s all that flashed through his mind. He imagined that he had his earphones on, and he could hear the music again.

  Pressure was a funny thing. It could weigh down on someone so much that they’d do things that they’d not normally do. Had this penalty come before Rose Park’s did, then Jay might have easily missed. Now, he stood here, ball and himself, knowing that he needed the pressure. He’d been taking penalties since he was five. He didn’t miss. Not even on PlayStation. He took his run up and let the left side of his right foot curl the ball to the keeper’s right. The keeper went the other way. When the ball hit the net, Jay felt the crowd lifting the hair off his back with their screams. He ran over to them and kissed the badge on his shirt; the school emblem. He believed again. He saw the colours of blue and white again, and they believed in number seven again. His teammates—his brothers—flocked over him once more. He could not imagine celebrating with anyone else.

  “Let’s win this, boys!” Thabo bellowed out to them.

  They had six minutes to do so. Snatching late victories was nothing new this season. Rose Park dejectedly rolled the ball back to the circle, praying for the final whistle to come. That would give them a chance to briefly rest and regroup before extra time would be played. Then, a penalty-shoot if the teams were still level. Rosebank were having none of that. The home side threw everything at the opposition in the final minutes. When they had a corner, Warren raced up to be part of it, only for Zondi to chase him back. The crowd had now drowned out the “Cheater, Cheater” chant with “Chetty, Chetty!”

  Jay acknowledged it and raised his arm to them. With a minute to go, Rosebank’s left-back, David Aaron, collected the ball on the left touchline in the opposition’s half. He was a short and stocky Jewish boy with curly, black hair. His crosses were even curlier and often caused mayhem in the opposition’s defence. This particular cross was floated in beautifully. It was the sort of ball that took the goalie out of the game and made defenders unsure whether to commit to the ball or not.

  Jay threw himself at it. He leapt towards it and closed his eyes. He knew where the ball was; he just needed the inspiration to get there. He saw Amritha in the darkness. He saw her smile and the way she wore it for him. That carried him over to where he wanted to be. He met the ball perfectly with the centre of his forehead and when he opened his eyes, he saw the horror etched on the keeper’s face, who was well and truly beaten. The ball flew in, and 25 years of defeat came to an end. Shortly after, the ref blew his final whistle.

  Not many teams came back when Rosebank left it as late as they did. The Rose Park players dropped to the floor. They had given everything and for effort alone, they deserved to be in the semis. All that mattered, though, was the score. The field was flooded with Rosebank supporters. They carried most of the players on their shoulders. A group of daring boys had brought back their town.

  Jay squeezed through the mass of celebrations and made sure that he went over to Musa, so that they could swap shirts. That only happened on TV, but Jay really wanted it. The defender was bullish on the field and had owned Rosebank for practically the whole game. Off it, he was the complete opposite. Politely and humbly, he handed Jay his shirt.

  “You’re quite some player, Chetty. I’d heard a lot about you before this game. I see there’s some reason for the hype.”

  “What about you? I can’t believe you don’t start for your team. And that penalty? That was something else.”

  “I’m sure we’ll meet again. If so, you better bring it.”

  He held out his fist and Jay pumped it with his own before they let their thumbs click. Respect amongst rivals. Most of the other Rose Park players had long disappeared towards their bus. This defeat would have been hard to swallow. Masilela briefly shook Zondi’s hand before exiting, and there was absolutely no sight of Headmaster Harrison.

  Amritha found Jay and leapt into his arms. He lifted her off the ground and swirled her around. From failure to fairy-tale. That’s often how this game worked. She planted a big one on his lips. “Tell me Chetts, how do you do it?”

  “It’s easy. All you do is close your eyes and think of someone special.”

  Chapter 24

  14 August 2013. Dream a little dream

  The first time James Tait saw Jay Chetty, the boy was not at his athletic best. He was not conquering the sporting world or being worshipped by those rich people who came to see him play for free. No, the first time James Tait saw Jay Chetty was when the boy was vulnerable and tortured. Shortly after their meeting at the art gallery, James dragged his heels to Layla’s place in Rosebank.

  Visiting the art gallery may not have gotten him any closer to employment, but it had given him a strange breath of life. James wanted to see her again. He needed to see her. When he entered her place, he was surprised at how empty it was. Not a piece of furniture in sight. Where was she moving to?

  Soon, he noticed that she wasn’t alone. A boy was sprawled out in the middle of Layla’s bedroom’s carpeted floor. He was old enough to be Layla’s son. Layla was kneeling next to the boy, who was fast asleep, as she anxiously watched over him.

  “He’s not dead, is he?”

  Layla glowered at James as the boy broke out into a cold sweat and was thrashing about on the floor.

  “He keeps having this dream…this nightmare.”

  She dabbed Jay’s forehead with a damp cloth and drew his hair back ever so gently. James remembered when she used to do that to him. The boy opened his eyes, haggard a
nd strained. He only relaxed once he saw Layla next to him.

  “It happened again, didn’t it?”

  “It’s okay sweetie. Don’t worry about it.”

  “No, this is wrong. I shouldn’t be here. This is a burden on you.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  Layla calmly forced him back onto the floor and rolled up her jersey into a ball to place underneath his neck.

  “Shouldn’t we take him to a hospital?”

  They both shot him a scowl. James had no idea what he’d literally walked into that day. His name was Jay Chetty he learnt, and soon after, he learnt exactly what his ‘dream’ was about.

  "It feels like I’m in a prison. There are bars all around me and I can’t see anything else. So, I look up and I see hope. Above me are the stars and the moon and birds. I wish I was a bird, so that I could fly away from the confinement. I try to get up. I can’t. I try to reach for the air, my little arms stretching for the sky, but I never get anywhere. Then, I’m heading up past the stars darkness. I’m held up in the midst of it all. I can’t move, I can’t escape, I’m just there, and it’s scarier than where I was before.

  “I finally get my wish and I’m released from it all. But I’m falling, and I hate that so much. I hate falling. I plummet towards everything that I fear. Towards nothingness. Towards the unknown. Towards the end. When I wake up, I’m sitting here in cold sweat and trembling like a shivering puppy.”

  “Kid, you have a dark mind.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Layla let James stay with them and they all drank tea and chatted around the carpeted floors. Layla told James that she and Jay were going to stay in a Morningside flat which she’d just acquired and that the Rosebank one was free until she found a buyer. He could stay there as long as he made a concerted effort to get a job. And stay he did. As the months went on, Jay still had the nightmares, Layla still lived in fear, and James didn’t get near any work.