Diego the Tornado

by Joachim Masannek

  We all laughed. That was a done deal. Ten minutes later we sat in the garage, had our picture taken, and talked to the journalist and the photographer. At first they behaved like the Furies. In other words, arrogant. But we wore them down and finally got to them. Half an hour into the interview, they were on our side, and when we went to thank them, they just smiled.

  “All’s well” they said. “As long as you’re wild!” We responded with a grin. And it was with that same grin that Larry showed us the paper the next day when we dropped by his stand before school. Hot off the presses, our picture still glistening in ink. But the picture wasn’t all. Above it, in big fat black letters, the headline announced:

  “THE FURIES AREN’T WILD ENOUGH FOR THE WILD SOCCER BUNCH”

  Sweet! This is going to slap them right in the face. Even the Furies won’t be able to handle this kind of an insult. And sure as the sun comes up every morning, two days later, Fabio brought a second letter to school, and it read simply: “We accept your challenge. Sunday, 9:30 a.m. Our practice field.”

  At that moment, we were unstoppable. We called all the potential sponsors who had turned us down and invited them to the game. We even asked the fast-food drive-thru owner. Yeah, we were smug. It was gratifying, I tell you. Our supply of energy seemed endless, and so we practiced even harder. Everything worked, no matter what we did, and the word ‘exhaustion’ wasn’t in our vocabulary. Only school and our bed times interrupted our practice; the nights got shorter and shorter. When it was too dark to see, Alex pulled out his most prized possession: an orange glow-in-the-dark soccer ball. With that we’d play until our parents showed up at the soccer field to take us home.

  On the Friday before the game, as the sun disappeared behind the trees, our hard work finally paid off. Larry called us all over to his stand as he dug out a big box and put it down in front of us. He called us up, one by one, reached into the box and handed us a package wrapped in white. It felt like an awards ceremony, like we were being knighted. When he finally let us open our packages, we were breathless, drained, and tongue-tied for the first time in a week. Our jerseys were black as night with a bright orange logo and bright orange cleats – they felt like gold in our hands.

  Larry smiled, scratching his forehead to hide his emotions.

  “What are you waiting for? They aren’t tablecloths,” he said hoarsely. “Put them on already!” He didn’t have to tell us twice. It took all of ten seconds and we were ready for action. We looked at each other happily, gently touched the orange cleats on our feet and felt the texture of the orange logo on our chests.

  Dude! We had waited a long time for this moment. Larry took out his camera and snapped a picture of us. No need for the flash, we were glowing with pride.

  Then, all of a sudden, Larry got real serious. He knelt down in the grass before us and looked at us for a long time.

  He finally said: “I’m proud of you. You’re a real team and I hope you will stay a team forever. Even if you don’t win on Sunday.”

  Say what? We were stunned. Why would he say something like that? Did he want to crush our hopes? Didn’t he realize what was at stake? Defeat was out of the question. We’d lose everything. We’d be ruined for years and Alex’s dad would confiscate the jerseys. But Larry dismissed our protests.

  “Listen, you need to think about this. What I’m about to tell you is as important as practice. Believe me, some time tonight, fear will creep up on you. The fear that, despite everything we’ve done, you might lose. If this fear is still in your bones when you play the Furies on Sunday, you’ll never win. And if it is fear that makes you lose, it’s all over. Everything will have been in vain … and the Wild Soccer Bunch will be no more.”

  We were dumbstruck, but Larry wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and stood up.

  “Time to go, guys. Time to go home. No practice tomorrow. See you Sunday at 9 sharp on the Furies’ field. And make sure you get a good night’s sleep on Saturday.”

  The Dare

  We slinked home without a word. Larry was absolutely right. That night, which was Friday night, fear crept up on us. At first we didn’t take it seriously. We thought it was Larry’s fault. We thought he had somehow planted it into our minds and that it would be gone the next day. But it wasn’t. The next day the fear was so bad we didn’t even want to talk to each other. Tyler didn’t even speak to Kevin, his own brother; instead, he read a book, something he hadn’t done in ages. But truth be told, he didn’t read. He just stared at the pages and the funny little black squiggles, never realizing he was holding the book upside-down.

  At some point or another each one of us picked up the phone to call someone else on the team, but at the other end, all we got was ringing. Not one of us was ready to face his fear. All we could think of was: ‘Larry’s right. We’re never going win this.’

  I had been hiding in my room all day when my mother called me for dinner. She had made pancakes again and that gave me an idea: “Mom,” I asked her, “could you be a gunslinger again?”

  My mother looked at me with surprise. Then she shrugged her shoulders, grabbed the spoon, and said with a deep and husky voice. “Whattaya need, pardner? Didn’t get enough of me last time?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, not like that, mom. We don’t have to play this game again. I need to talk to you. I mean, really, you know … man to man.”

  For a moment it was all quiet. My mother gulped some air and mustered up some courage. After all, she was the best mom in the whole wide world. She understood, and I could tell her anything. I told her about the fear, and that we had to get rid of it or we’d never win, and as we were talking ‘man to man’, my mother came up with an idea.

  “You need a dare,” she said. “Remember the old wooden bridge above the pond in the park?? The one you wanted to jump off with your dad? You need to go there, and I mean right now.”

  “But… it’s getting dark!” I protested. The bridge my mother was talking about was over 8 feet high. “We’re supposed to go to bed early, Larry said. And besides, last year you got real mad at me, and I didn’t even jump.”

  “Well, last year I was your mother,” she smiled. “And I was glad you were chicken. But now we’re talking man to man. And what do you think Larry would prefer? That you lose a little sleep or lose your lunch ‘cause you’re scared?”

  I was shocked. I couldn’t believe she was saying these things. Just thinking about the bridge made me dizzy. I could feel the fear run down my back like a trickle of cold water. What if we couldn’t jump? That would take care of the game, once and for all. But my mom was the gunslinger, and as you know, gunslingers show no mercy. She reached under the table and grabbed a backpack.

  “Go get a towel and your swim trunks and I’ll make you a thermos of warm cider,” she smiled. “Then go get the others. I’ll meet you there.”

  I swallowed, but I had no choice. I took the backpack and filled it with my stuff, then grabbed my bike from the basement and took off. First I rode to Tyler and Kevin’s house, and together we rode to Danny’s, then to Julian and Josh’s house. Then we picked up Roger and Alex and, with Josh’s and Edgar’s help, we finally smuggled Kyle past his father and out the door of the mansion.

  “The gunslinger knows how we can face our fears,” I just said, and the others nodded, grabbed their things, and followed me blindly. I didn’t mention the bridge. I was afraid they wouldn’t come if I did. In my mind, jumping from the old wooden bridge into the cold water of the pond was about as dangerous as climbing Mount Everest without oxygen. My only chance was to get them all there and hope that nobody would chicken out.

  I stopped in the middle of the bridge and leaned my bike against the railing. I looked around for the gunslinger and saw her standing in the shadows down by the water where nobody else could see her. Then I turned towards the others. It was dark now, and the moon painted my friends’ faces the colors of fear and trepidation. Pale and terrified, they held on to their bikes and glared
at me.

  “You’re nuts!” Kevin was the first to realize what I was asking them to do.

  “It’s impossible!” Danny shouted.

  “And as far as I’m concerned,” Roger said decisively, “I wouldn’t even think about it. I won’t jump!”

  “Fine. Suit yourselves,” I said. “But I will. I’m sick of being afraid. I’ve been giving in to fear for far too long.”

  With that, I undressed and sat on top of the railing. Then I turned around one more time. My breath was hard and rattled.

  “You know, I have asthma whenever I’m afraid. Like right now. But it’s just my fear.”

  I stood up and looked down into the black abyss.

  The reflection of the moon and the clouds glistened on the surface of the water. I was thinking like Roger. I didn’t want to jump. I saw myself disappear in the black water forever, sinking deeper and deeper. My knees buckled. My heart raced. Fear ran down my back. But there was no way out. “NO!” I screamed – and jumped. The others threw their bikes down, ran over to the railing, and saw me disappear in the black stream. The impact was hard and the water was cold. But then everything softened. I was light as a bird and floated back to the surface. And there, although I had to gasp for air, I wasn’t afraid any more. My asthma – gone. I felt relieved and I was beaming with joy.

  “Dudes! I’m still alive. So what are you all waiting for? This is real wild.”

  But the others looked at me as if they couldn’t believe I had actually survived that jump. So I swam to shore, got out of the water and ran back up to the bridge. “Okay, now we’ll all jump in together. Come on, take off your clothes and let’s do it, or you’ll always believe you’re a chicken. You too, Kevin.” I looked directly into Kevin’s eyes. “All for one and one for all.”

  Biting his lips, anger and fear in his eyes, he nodded. “Diego is right!”

  A minute later, we all stood on the railing staring into the inky black abyss. I could feel their fear, I could almost taste it. Roger, who stood next to me, took my hand.

  “All’s well,” I said.

  “As long as you’re wild,” Roger and the others finished, softly but with determination.

  Then we all jumped into the darkness, and each and every one of us let out a scream to ward off the fear. AAAAaaaahhhhh..!!

  The water swallowed us whole and the world went black. But black was our team color, and once the fear was gone we were as light as a feather.

  I caught a glimpse of the shore and the gunslinger. She tipped her hat in admiration to all of us.

  We floated through the water like majestic sea lions, and as we cut through to the surface, we roared our joy all the way up to the stars.

  Judgment Day

  The next day started out calm and relaxed. It was Sunday, Judgment Day, but we were not the least bit anxious. We met Larry at the gate to the soccer field at 9 a.m. Although we didn’t tell him anything about the dare on the bridge, he seemed to know what had happened. Our shining eyes gave it all away.

  “Well done,” he just said. Then he took his motorcycle and we followed him on our bikes.

  We reached the practice grounds of the Furies on South Harlem Avenue. The field was huge, and because it was Sunday morning, it was still deserted. At first we didn’t know where to turn, but then we caught sight of our opponents.

  The U10 team of the Furies was waiting for us near the locker rooms. They sat on their bags quietly, looking us up and down. They didn’t say a word, not even when we marched past them to the locker room. But their gazes said everything. The newspaper article had hurt their pride and honor, and they were determined to fix that. Only Fabio avoided our look, staring at his feet, obviously uncomfortable.

  It was dead quiet in the locker room. All you could hear was the rustle of clothes as we put on our jerseys. We acted as if we had done this a million times. Then Larry called us all over to announce the line-up.

  Kyle the invincible would be goalie, of course. Julian Fort Knox would play center fullback. Alex would play right fullback, and our number 10 Tyler, the man with the hardest kick in the world, would be his left fullback. Danny, the world’s fastest midfielder, and Joey the magician, would play left and right wings. That left Kevin, our top striker at center forward.

  Then Larry turned to Roger and me.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Nobody will be left out today. You two will relieve Danny and Joey when they get tired.”

  “What about me?” Josh said, disappointed.

  Larry looked at him surprised. Josh was three years younger than everybody else, and two heads smaller. He wouldn’t have a chance against the Furies. But he was determined. Larry pushed his cap back far and scratched his forehead.

  “You’re my assistant,” he said, but that didn’t do it for Josh. And so Larry added: “And maybe you’re our wild card, too.”

  “What’s a wild card?” Josh asked. “Something like a superhero,” Larry smiled and Josh beamed.

  Then Larry happily took the lead and marched us out onto the field.

  Things had changed out there. The field was no longer deserted. All our parents had arrived. Even Joey’s mother was there, and Edgar, the penguin. But that wasn’t all. Kyle rubbed his eyes and tugged on my sleeve. His mother stood next to Edgar the butler and next to her stood his father, the man who despised soccer.

  “It’s great he’s here,” Kyle hissed. “But, if we lose, I’ll never get out of being a golf pro.”

  Alex felt his father’s gaze upon him. He was standing among the sponsors – the car dealers, the gas station owners and the computer specialists – watching his money. The money we had borrowed from his bank to pay for our gear.

  But Kevin didn’t care. He looked past all spectators and drilled his eyes into our real enemy, Giacomo Ribaldo, the Brazilian superstar, who was warming up on the adjacent field. When he felt Kevin’s gaze upon him, he stayed cool and acted as if he was there by pure chance. Right.

  Then we ran onto the field, past the fat fast food drive-thru owner, whose mocking gaze bounced off us like a tennis ball hitting a wall.

  We were full of self-confidence. Everything had worked during warm-up. One of Kevin’s bicycle kicks even made the Furies stop dead in their tracks to watch. At least, I’d like to think it was that, and not the referee’s whistle that called us over to center field.

  Greetings were icy. The Furies won kick-off. They were cool, calm, and collected. And just like that, Fabio took the ball and jogged from midfield towards our goal. Then, as sudden and fast as lightning, he passed the ball. The Furies’ midfielder stormed towards the penalty box. Even Julian couldn’t keep up and so Kyle changed position. He was counting on a far shot, and I’m sure he would have held it. But the midfielder played towards the left where Fabio appeared out of nowhere, took a shot and scored.

  It was suddenly quiet. One to nothing … in the very first minute. The fast food drive-thru owner grinned smugly; Alex’s and Kyle’s fathers furrowed their brows; and Giacomo Ribaldo jogged past us, satisfaction plastered all over his face.

  We were in shock. But then we remembered the dare on the old wooden bridge, and ran towards the center and prepared for our turn. Kevin made a speed pass to Tyler, who moved the ball forward. Danny was right there, caught the ball with his knee and stormed towards the Furies’ goal. He didn’t even have to check where Kevin stood. He could feel it, knew it in his bones from our practice, and indeed, the ball reached its destination. Kevin took control of it as he was still turning, convinced he’d have a clear shot at the goal. But instead, three Furies defenders were glued to his heels. The grass was no longer green. Wherever he looked, all he saw were red jerseys. Our enemies were all around him, making sure none of his teammates were free. As Larry had predicted, it seemed as if 28 players were on the field. Before Kevin grasped what was happening, he lost the ball and the Furies counterattacked.

  They skimmed the ball to Fabio a second time. This time he played to the right, and
we expected him to pass to the front, close to the goal. But instead, the ball flew high above us to the other side, behind us. From there, the Furies’ left forward headed the ball back to Fabio, who didn’t hesitate. He volleyed the ball into the right corner.

  Two nothing, less than three minutes into the game. We looked at each other. This was worse than the game against Mickey and his Unbeatables, and in that game we had been paralyzed by fear. But this time fear wasn’t to blame; we had conquered our fear the night before.

  This time our impending doom had a different reason. The Furies were simply better than us. They were in a league of their own, and the heart and engine of their league was Fabio.

  Secretly I scanned the field for him and was startled when I finally spotted him. Fabio was watching me, too. He was jogging slowly towards his half of the field, but he wouldn’t take his eyes off me. His gaze wasn’t laced with mockery or ridicule. All I saw was helplessness. Suddenly his left foot bent sharply, Fabio screamed in pain and went down for a moment, and then limped off the field without a word.

  “This is our chance,” we all thought immediately, and Kevin translated that chance into action. Instead of passing back to Tyler, he stormed forward, right into the center of the defense, attracted three Furies, suddenly darted sideways, and then passed to the right to Danny. Like a bullet, Danny stormed toward the Furies’ goal and fired. As if on a string, the ball flew 60 feet straight towards the goal, hit the left goal post with a bang, and then bounced into the goal.

  Two to one. We had broken the ice. Kyle held the next two shots on our goal the way Tim Howard does, and then I came onto the field. I played right, raced past two enemies and sent the ball straight to Kevin. He heeled the ball to Roger, who gracefully thanked him. With his left foot, just like he did against the Unbeatables, he pounded the ball into the net.

  “Two to two! Sweet! We’ve got them,” Danny cheered us on as we fell back towards our side of the field to brace against the counterattack. But in no time the Furies took the lead and held it until just before half time. That’s when they fouled Kevin in the penalty box. Alex, the man with the hardest kick in the world, took the shot and gunned the ball above the wall into the left upper corner. But there was a good reason why the Furies’ goalie stood in the Furies’ goal box. He flew straight towards the ball and looked as if he was trying to catch it. That was his mistake. Alex’s shots cannot be caught that easily. You had to pound them away. Kevin knew that, and so he just stood there, ready, like Conor Casey, waiting for the ricochet, straddling it right into the net.