by David Starr
Tweet! The referee pointed to the corner. Dylan had earned the Eagles their first corner kick of the game.
“This is our chance,” said Claude. Abbas, Dylan, Junior and Steven lined up across the mouth of the goal waiting for the kick. The whistle blew and the ball shot into the air.
“I got it!” Dylan shouted. But the ball sailed high over his head.
Abbas jumped and turned his head toward the approaching ball. He closed his eyes, waiting for the ball to hit his forehead. Instead, it glanced off the top of his head and flew high into the air toward the Bulldogs net. Majok easily reached up and punched it over the net and out of touch.
“Watch your timing,” Majok said to Abbas. “You jumped too late. You need to get your forehead on the ball. Then you push it with your head toward the target. And keep your eyes open. You can’t hit what you can’t see.”
“Let’s try that again,” said Claude as he placed the ball for the second corner kick. This one went higher and faster than the first one, and came right to Abbas.
Watch your timing.
With the ball just a few metres away, Abbas jumped into the air. He fought the urge to close his eyes until after he thumped the ball cleanly with his forehead.
Abbas sent the ball low, toward the right corner of the net. Majok threw himself toward it, punching the ball out of bounds. “Much better!” said Majok, climbing to his feet. “You had me beat.”
“But I missed the goal,” said Abbas, shaking his head.
“You just got unlucky,” Majok said. Your jump was great and your timing even better. That was a good try. Maybe you can play with the big kids after all!”
10
More in Common Than You Know
“So how is the soccer going?” Haval asked in Arabic. It was their third session, and at the end of their second session Abbas had told Haval how the team was getting ready for the tournament.
“Really well,” Abbas replied. “We’ve played against the grade eight team twice. The first time they beat us pretty bad. We didn’t even score. This week we only lost by three goals.”
It was going well. Abbas loved soccer, he truly did. And playing with his friends made him want to work on his fear of flying more than anything. He needed to be able to play in the Top Flight Tournament with them.
“Good,” said Haval. “You’ll be ready for this tournament in no time. And the meditation?”
“At first I thought it was kind of stupid. But it actually works,” Abbas admitted.
Haval smiled. “How many times a week are you doing it?”
“Four, maybe five. Not every day. I have soccer practice too. Is that okay?”
“More than okay. Getting over fears is a lot like soccer. There is no magic cure, just lots of practice. You practise your set plays like corner kicks just like you practise your relaxation. If you work on both you will be more than ready to not only get on that plane but do really well in the tournament too. And speaking of practice, we are going to do some muscle-relaxing exercises today.”
Haval had Abbas take off his shoes. “When people are stressed it isn’t just their minds that feel it,” Haval explained. “Their bodies react and often they don’t even know it. Their muscles get all tense. They are sore and don’t sleep well. They can even get stomach aches. Does that sound familiar?”
“I guess.” It was kind of freaky when Haval seemed to know exactly how Abbas was feeling.
“Take a few deep breaths,” said Haval, “then flex your left foot downward. Stretch the toes as far as you can. Hold them for about five seconds and then relax the muscles, breathing out as you do.”
“What’s that supposed to do?”
“Just trust me,” said Haval. “Now lift your toes up until you feel the squeeze in your calf.”
Abbas focused on doing what Haval was telling him to do, even though it sounded kind of silly.
“Now squeeze and relax each muscle group in your left leg,” Haval continued. “And then do the same on your right. After that you keep moving up your body until you reach the top of your head. Ready to try?”
With Haval leading him, Abbas squeezed then relaxed all the muscles in his body. He worked the muscles one after the other, right up to his forehead.
“How do you feel?” Haval asked when Abbas was done.
“Tired, sore and relaxed all at once,” Abbas said.
“That’s exactly how you should feel. As well as the meditation I want you to do this exercise at least twice a day. The great thing about it is that you can do it at school in your desk and nobody will even know.”
“Where did you learn how to do all this stuff?” Abbas asked.
“At the University of British Columbia. I was going to be a chemistry teacher. My parents were both science professors back in Iraq. I wanted to teach as well, to work with kids. But then I took a psychology class and realized that maybe I could do more for kids than teach chemistry.”
“You lived in Iraq?” Abbas knew Haval’s family had come from somewhere in the Middle East. But Haval spoke perfect English, and Abbas thought he had been born in Canada.
“I was ten when we moved to Canada. I’m a Kurd and Baghdad was pretty dangerous for Kurds. My parents wanted me and my sister to be safe so they turned to the United Nations for help.”
“You were a refugee too?” Abbas was surprised.
“We have more in common than you know. I came to Canada not speaking any English. My parents couldn’t teach here. So my dad got a job at a grocery store and my mom cleaned houses.”
“My mom was a scientist and my dad was an engineer in Syria,” Abbas said. “My mom is going to school for English. My dad and brothers died before we got here.”
Haval nodded. “When I first got to Canada I was pretty messed up. I saw all sorts of bad things back home. Fighting, car bombings, you name it.” He looked at Abbas. “Just like you, right? Your fear of planes isn’t only about flying on them, is it?”
Abbas struggled to control his emotions. “Did my mom tell you that?”
“A little bit, yes. Do you want to talk about it?”
To his surprise, Abbas did. He sat in the comfy leather chair in Haval’s office and told him everything. He talked about his memories of the bombing attack in the market, the trip to Turkey and the death of his father and brothers.
Abbas spoke about his trouble adjusting to life in Canada, getting to know his friends and the soccer team. Finally, Abbas told Haval about the car crash that seemed to have brought the bad memories back.
Haval listened, not saying a single word.
“That is quite the story,” Haval said when Abbas was done. “You did a good job telling it. How do you feel now?”
Speaking about those things was very hard for Abbas. “I feel tired,” Abbas said.
“I’m not surprised,” Haval said. “This is hard work. We’ve got two more sessions left. After them, I know you’ll be able to get on that plane with your friends. But before you go today I have a gift for you.”
Haval stood up and got a bag out of the drawer in his desk. “An iPod and noise-reducing headphones,” he said, handing the bag to an awestruck Abbas. “Your mom said you were using her phone to do the meditation. I want you to do it every day from now on, and even when you are away. You’ll need your own stuff.”
“Thank you,” said Abbas, gratefully.
“It’s not the newest player but it works fine. I’ve downloaded a bunch of guided meditations and some music for relaxing and a bunch of apps and games as well.”
“Is there a waves crashing on the beach app?”
Haval laughed. “Along with singing whale apps, chirping bird apps and falling rain apps. All very soothing. You should share them with your friends.”
“No thanks,” said Abbas, grinning. “If the guys heard me singing along to whale music I’d have
bigger problems than a fear of planes!”
11
Ready to Play
The last week of May was wet and grey. Rain fell almost every day but it did not dampen the excitement the Grandview Eagles felt. The team was almost ready.
They’d played nearly every day since learning about Top Flight. The plane tickets were booked for Thursday morning. All that was left was the Tuesday practice game against the Burnaby Creek Bulldogs.
“This time we’re keeping score,” said Coach T as the Eagles reached Burnaby Creek Secondary.
“I thought you didn’t care about beating these guys,” Claude said, smiling. “Keeping score means you care.”
“I don’t. This is about practising your skills.”
“Really?”
“Okay,” Coach T admitted with a grin. “Maybe I care. A little. Get out there and show me what you can do.”
“Go Eagles!” shouted Mo as the rest of the team joined in. “Play hard! Play safe! Play fair!”
The Eagles were playing the best soccer they had ever played. The Bulldogs scored on a wicked shot by Martin. But the Eagles were hanging on. The score was 1–0, and would have been tied if not for an amazing save by Majok on a breakaway by Claude.
The half-time whistle blew. The Eagles hurried off the field, tired but confident. The Bulldogs are worried, Abbas thought. He could tell by looking at them. They weren’t joking and smiling when they went to the sidelines.
“You’re doing great,” said Coach T.
“Thanks,” said Abbas. He thought so too. The first time the Eagles played the Bulldogs they had been crushed. Now they were holding their own.
The second half was a chess match. Ball possession was split almost evenly between the two teams. Both had chances but nobody scored. With only a few minutes left the Bulldogs focussed on defence. There was no way they were going to lose to an elementary school team.
On the Bulldogs side of centre, Junior and Claude surrounded Bulldogs midfielder Garrett. Garrett tried to dribble out of danger and pass the ball, but Claude stretched out his toe, breaking up the pass. Claude deflected the ball to Junior, who turned and ran.
Five paces later Junior lifted the ball high into the air toward Dylan, over the heads of the Bulldog defenders.
Dylan ran up to the ball. He judged the bounce perfectly and quickly controlled the ball with his feet. One defender and Majok were the only Bulldogs between him and tying the game.
Abbas sprinted into the middle of the field, making sure to stay onside.
Dylan saw him, faked to the left then kicked the ball across the field. It was a fast, low kick that flew over the turf like a puck on ice.
Abbas streaked toward Majok. The Bulldogs goalie came out to meet him, cutting off the angle. His long arms were spread out, his feet bouncing up and down.
With a mighty kick Abbas sent the ball high, toward the left-hand side. Majok saw what was happening and stretched out his long body, but the ball was too fast. Majok fell to the ground as the ball crossed the line.
The Grandview Eagles swarmed Abbas, hugging him and lifting him up into the air. Coach Faraguna, the Bulldogs coach, was refereeing. He looked at his watch and blew the whistle.
Game over. The score was 1–1. But as far as the Eagles were concerned it wasn’t a tie. It was one of the greatest wins they’d ever had, as good, maybe even better than the one that got them the District Championship.
The two teams lined up and shook hands.
“I didn’t see that one coming,” said Majok to Abbas. “Good luck in Toronto.”
A jubilant Eagles team gathered up their things and started to walk back to Grandview Community School.
“No practice tomorrow,” said Coach T. “You need to rest and pack your things. I want you all to wear your warmup gear on the plane. You are representing your school and your city. Deportment counts, remember?”
“Don’t worry, Coach T,” said Claude. “We’re gonna be the best-looking team at the tournament.”
“What time is the flight?” Mo asked.
“The plane leaves at 10:15 a.m. Make sure you are at the school for 7:30 at the latest. We need to be at the airport two hours before we take off.”
“You heard Coach T,” said Claude. “Not one minute later than 7:15.”
“Make sure you pack your shoes and your uniforms as well,” Coach T said. “And plenty of spare socks and underwear. Looking good doesn’t mean much if you smell!”
***
The night before the Eagles flew to Toronto, Dylan and his mom, Erin, had Abbas, Amira, Claude and his sister Julie to their home for dinner.
“I said I was cooking spaghetti! You didn’t need to bring anything,” said Erin as their guests arrived at the Wests’ small apartment on Salisbury Street.
“I know,” said Amira, handing Erin a warm bowl. “But the boys love chicken shawarma so I just had to make some.”
“And fried plantains too!” said Julie. She did the cooking for Claude and herself, and knew the boys shared a love of food.
“We have enough food for the entire team here!” said Erin, welcoming her company inside.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. West,” said Claude. “I have a feeling there won’t be many leftovers!”
“How’s school going?” Erin asked Julie. Claude’s older sister was studying to be a nurse.
“I will be done in September,” she said. “I can’t believe how fast it went. I’ll have to start looking for a job so I can pay off my student loans.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Erin replied. “Nurses are in demand. You should find a job no problem.”
The food was great and the company terrific but Abbas didn’t feel like eating nearly as much as his friends.
Abbas had been practising his meditation and muscle-relaxing exercises. But he was still very nervous. In less than twenty-four hours he was supposed to be climbing onto a plane. Even with everything he’d done to prepare, Abbas wasn’t certain he could do it. But the only thing worse than flying would be letting his friends and teammates down.
“Come on, Abbas, have more of my mom’s meatballs,” said Dylan. “They are the best in the entire world!”
“How are you feeling about the flight tomorrow, Abbas?” Claude asked.
“Nervous. I haven’t told you guys this yet. I’ve been seeing somebody to learn strategies to help me get over my fears.”
Amira patted her son’s hand proudly. She hadn’t told anyone Abbas was getting counselling. She knew that telling his friends showed how far he had come. Perhaps one day he would be able to tell them where the fear really came from.
“Good thing,” said Dylan, “because if you don’t get on that plane you won’t get to see your friend Victor. And we won’t have a chance of winning Top Flight.”
“And you should eat more,” Claude added. “We’re going to fly across the country, play four games and fly home. All in less than a week. You’re going to need your energy!”
12
Ready to Fly
Abbas felt he hardly slept a wink all night. And that was after doing his muscle-relaxing exercises and listening half a dozen times to the guided meditations. But he must have fallen asleep somehow, because before Abbas knew it his mom had come into his room to wake him.
“Ready to go?” Amira asked.
“I don’t really know.” Not going meant turning his back on his team, his old friend Victor and the game he loved. Abbas would do his best not to let that happen.
“You can do this, son,” Amira said. “I’m very proud of you. Now come and eat some breakfast. It’s seven. We need to leave in fifteen minutes.”
Abbas tried to eat but all his stomach could manage was half a bowl of cereal.
“Let’s get going, then,” Amira said. She brought Abbas’s small suitcase to the door. “I’ll walk with you
to school this morning.”
“You don’t have to,” protested Abbas.
“I won’t see you for a week,” Amira said. “That’s the longest I’ve been away from you in my life. If I want to walk you to the school I will.”
Amira gave Abbas a small plastic card. “This is your Permanent Resident Card, your identification for the flight. For goodness sake don’t lose it.”
Abbas looked at the picture. It was taken three years before when he had first arrived in Canada. A great deal had happened since then. “Don’t worry. Coach T said he’d look after all our ID. Apparently he doesn’t trust us any more than you do.”
By 7:30 all the Grandview Eagles players were at the school. Ms. Bhullar was waiting for them, along with Coach T, the bus and two other familiar faces.
“Good luck, boys,” said Jon Lutz from Electronic Arts. “I wanted to see you off.”
“You look very sharp in those track suits,” said Staff Sergeant Major Buis. “Deportment counts after all.”
“Okay, Eagles,” said Coach T. “I want to make sure each of you has your ID as well as your uniforms. You’re going to need both to play in this tournament.”
The team handed their IDs to Coach T, who put them safely into his briefcase. Most of the boys had Permanent Resident Cards, but some had Citizenship Cards or passports.
“Uniform check next,” Coach T said. “Show me you each have your jerseys, shorts and socks.”
One by one the boys showed Coach T their green and yellow Grandview Eagles jerseys.
Just before they boarded the bus, Amira gave Abbas the biggest hug he’d ever had. “You have Victor’s contact information?” she asked.
“Yes, Mom. I’ll talk to him when I get there.”
“I love you, son,” Amira said, letting Abbas go. “You can do this.”
“I hope so,” Abbas said, “because if I can’t you’re going to get a call from the airport to come and pick me up.”