Junior quickly turned off the taps and was about to open the door when he remembered what he was wearing. Good one, Junior. How are you going to explain this? ‘Um, I can’t come out. I forgot to bring my clothes in.’
‘Just get out here or we’re coming in!’ yelled Ramona.
His eldest sister wasn’t just nosy like Mele, she was pushy as well. Sometimes it felt like Junior had three mothers instead of one. Junior decided to give up and slowly opened the bathroom door.
A waft of steam burst from the bathroom. His sisters took one look at him and fell to the floor with laughter.
‘What were you thinking, Junior?’ asked Ramona, after she and Mele had finally recovered from a fit of hysterics. The three of them were sitting on Ramona’s bed.
Junior explained how he’d got the idea to give himself a steam bath.
‘Junior, that ad’s a joke,’ said Mele. ‘You’re not a pair of jeans or a T-shirt – you can’t shrink yourself overnight with a bit of steam!’
‘I guess not,’ said Junior. ‘Are you guys going to tell Mum?’
Both girls looked at each other. ‘No,’ said Ramona. ‘But, Junior, don’t try to be something you’re not, and don’t ever change yourself for anyone. You are a big, beautiful Samoan boy who’s good at footy and rapping.’
Junior’s eyes widened with surprise.
‘Yeah, I can hear you every night through the wall, genius,’ said Ramona. ‘Anyway, if people can’t accept you for who you are, then who needs them? You’ve got us.’
‘And we can always whip your butt in footy any day,’ Mele said with a laugh.
Junior got up off his sister’s bed. ‘Okay, no more steaming,’ he said, and turned to leave the room.
‘Junior?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I think you should probably take Mum’s robe off before she gets home, hey?’
‘I can see what they mean – he is HUGE!’
‘What do they call him? Cannonball? I think he’s backfired today.’
Junior tried to ignore the two Hawks players sledging him right to his face as both teams took to the field for the second half.
The Harbourside Hawks had beaten the Ravens 12–6 in the first round, and this game looked like it would go the same way. The Ravens were down 12–0 and they hadn’t even come close to scoring.
The truth was, Junior didn’t have the same level of energy he’d had in the last two games. Every time he took up the ball, he’d think about the booing and insults from the week before and he’d slow down to a trot. Then a few Hawks players would drag him to the ground without a fight.
‘Don’t let them get to you, Junior,’ said Liam, watching the two Hawks players high five each other and run into position.
And Junior tried not to – until thirteen minutes into the second half, when the Hawks had skipped to a 16–0 lead. That was when the Hawks halfback said something that made Junior see ten shades of red.
Junior was lining up to take a run and the halfback, a cocky blond kid with a face full of freckles, was standing at first marker having just made a tackle on the Ravens lock, Jack Monroe. The halfback had outplayed and out-tackled the Ravens all day and he’d also out-sledged everyone on the field.
‘Hey, number ten!’ called the halfback. ‘Is everyone in your family as fat as you? ’Cause I heard the coconut doesn’t fall far from the tree!’
Calling Junior fat was one thing, but saying something about his family . . . Something inside Junior snapped. One second he was catching a short pass from Azza at dummy half, and the next second he was running over that little blond halfback. But Junior didn’t stop there. He ran through the next player. And the one after that.
He was a steam train collecting passengers one by one. By the time he got near the tryline, Junior had six players riding on his back trying to bring him to a halt. The rest of the Hawks were scattered behind him.
When he arrived at the tryline, Junior swung around 180 degrees, bodies hanging from him like flags on a flagpole. He tossed the ball to a smiling Tai, who gladly dived over to score.
‘Way to go, Cannonball!’ Tai cheered, jumping aboard Junior’s back himself.
But Junior, who should have felt on top of the world, felt as small as a stone in the sea. As he looked around the ground, he didn’t notice the cheering faces of the Ravens supporters. All he saw were the cold stares of the Hawks fans. They weren’t booing, but Junior could see the anger written all over their faces.
‘All right, guys, this is it! Another quick try and we’re back in the game,’ shouted Liam, trying to rev up the team.
But while the next try did happen quickly, it was the Hawks – not the Ravens – who scored.
Junior had been staring at the crowd when the Hawks kicked the ball back. He didn’t even notice the ball come sailing towards him until it was too late. He threw his arms out to take it, but the ball bounced off the tips of his fingers and struck the ground in front of him. He’d knocked on right in front of the tryline.
The Hawks packed the scrum quickly, and before anyone knew it, their halfback snuck through a gap in the Ravens’ backline to score. Junior watched numbly as the Hawks halfback celebrated the try with high fives from his teammates. The freckly blond halfback turned in his direction and pumped his fist as the ref blew the whistle to signal full-time.
Just like that, the Ravens’ brief winning streak was over.
Junior sat in the Ravens change sheds by himself, slowly sipping from his water bottle and staring at the brick wall in front of him. Plastered on it were a dozen or so stickers shouting ‘GO RAVENS!’ in big black and green letters. He took a final sip, then placed his water bottle back in his bag. The other boys had already left, but Junior couldn’t force himself off the bench. Two words kept echoing in his mind: Fat chance. It was the Hawks halfback’s parting shot to Junior.
The Ravens had been standing together after the game when the halfback and one of the Hawks forwards walked past, gloating. ‘Guess we’ll see you lot in the finals,’ said the forward.
‘Fat chance!’ The halfback grinned. ‘Get it?’ The pair walked away, howling with laughter.
‘I’m going to sort out that guy, once and for all!’ said Tai. ‘No one says that to our Cannonball and gets away with it!’
‘No, you’re not!’ said Coach Steve, stopping Tai in his tracks. ‘Look, there’s always going to be a few jokers that sledge us. The important thing is that we don’t sink to their level. Remember, boys, it’s not whether you win or lose –’
‘We know – it’s how you play the game,’ groaned Corey, rolling his eyes.
‘No, it’s what you do after the game that matters,’ corrected Coach. He looked around at each boy. ‘Win or lose, you shake hands and show respect for your opponents. Even when – especially when – they don’t respect you. Got it?’
‘Yes, Coach,’ the boys mumbled.
‘Good. Now, get cleaned up,’ said Coach Steve.
But while the rest of the boys had done just that, Junior had found it a little harder to simply shrug off the halfback’s words. They were about him, after all.
Coach Steve poked his head into the change sheds. ‘Junior, what are you still doing here? Your sister’s waiting for you.’
Junior shrugged.
‘Come on, mate, go home and get some rest,’ said Coach Steve. ‘Things always look a little brighter the day after a loss.’
‘Okay, Coach,’ Junior said quietly. But as he got to his feet and headed out the door, a new thought bounced around his brain.
Maybe I don’t want to be Cannonball anymore.
Coach Steve had been right – things did look brighter the next day.
It was a clear, sunny morning when Junior and his family headed to the beach for a Taafuli family picnic. It was a weekly event that happened every Sunday. Most of t
he people at the picnic were related to Junior in some way or another. There were aunties, uncles, first, second and third cousins. But you didn’t have to be part of the family to attend. You just had to enjoy eating.
Junior looked at the picnic tables, where his mother and aunties were busy preparing a traditional Samoan meal. Junior’s dad and Uncle Lasalo had got up early to prepare the umu, which was basically a big hole in the ground filled with hot coals. It was how Samoans traditionally cooked their food. And the great thing was, you could cook a lot of food at the same time. Chicken, pork, fish, taro and breadfruit – enough for a feast!
Junior was busy breathing in the wonderful smoky smells of the umu-cooked food when a football hit him in the stomach. He looked up and saw his sister Ramona and his older cousin Fetu laughing wildly.
‘Stop thinking about your stomach, cuz!’ said Fetu. ‘Time for a game of footy before lunch, hey?’
Junior thought that yesterday’s game might have turned him off playing with his uncles and cousins, but he couldn’t say no. It was just too much fun. Because it was touch footy, Junior had to work hard to keep up with the speed of the game. Every second there were breaks and dummies and flick passes – anything that might draw a tackler in and create an overlap. It was all about ball skills, acceleration and timing. Junior always marvelled at the skills of his older cousins – both boys and girls. Even Mele and Ramona joined in, and they loved running rings around Junior and their two younger brothers.
‘Did you hear about our Junior?’ Ramona said to their uncle when they all took a break. ‘Some kids on the other team are hassling him because they think he’s too big!’
Junior glared at Ramona, embarrassed that she would bring it up in front of the whole family.
‘What? This little fish?’ replied their uncle, chuckling. ‘If he jumped on my line, I’d throw him back!’
The funny thing was that Uncle Lasalo was quite a large man himself. He was at least twice the size of Junior. While Junior’s father was tall and lean, like Joseph and Feleti, all the men on his mother’s side were big and stout.
‘Don’t worry,’ their cousin Fetu said to Junior. ‘They said the same thing to me when I played junior footy. Then I got even bigger and now nobody says anything.’
‘It’s not your fault you’re big-boned and good at football,’ said Uncle Lasalo. He slapped his stomach proudly. ‘You take after your mother’s brother. I was a great footballer, too!’
Everyone laughed at this, even Junior.
‘Hey, isn’t that Billy Slater?’ said Mele. ‘Your team’s mascot.’
‘He’s their mentor, not their mascot,’ corrected Ramona, shaking her head. She paused, squinting. ‘Hey, I think it is him.’
Junior looked towards the beach. Approaching them, with a big group of men in training gear, was Billy Slater. Junior wondered what Billy and his team were doing at the beach on a Sunday.
‘Hey, Billy!’ Mele shouted at the top of her lungs. Billy and the rest of the team turned to see her jumping up and down, pointing excitedly at Junior. ‘My brother’s in your team!’ she screamed.
What did she do that for? thought Junior’s brain, as the rest of him wilted with embarrassment.
But to his surprise, Billy waved back and began walking towards them.
He’s coming over. Billy’s going to meet my family, Junior thought with excitement. Then a second thought hit him like an air-to-surface missile.
Oh, no, Billy’s going to meet my mum!
‘Hi Junior,’ said Billy, glancing around at the Taafulis’ picnic. ‘Here with the family?’
‘Yeah,’ said Mele, before Junior could get a word out. ‘You’re Billy Slater, hey? Junior’s mascot.’
‘Mentor,’ corrected Ramona, elbowing her sister in the side.
‘Yeah, that too. I’m his older sister,’ gushed Mele.
Junior rolled his eyes.
Billy smiled. ‘It’s nice to meet you . . .?’
‘Mele.’
Ramona elbowed her again.
‘Oh, yeah, this is Ramona, our other sister. And this is our family,’ said Mele, waving her hand like a TV game show model. She then introduced Billy to every member of the Taafuli family. But if Billy was worried about being mobbed by a large group of over-friendly Samoans, he didn’t show it.
‘What are you doing down the beach, Billy?’ asked Uncle Lasalo. ‘You’re a bit far from home.’
‘We had a game last night and our coach thought a morning recovery session in the surf would be a good idea,’ explained Billy.
‘How’s the water?’ asked Fetu. ‘Bit cold?’
‘Freezing,’ Billy agreed with a chuckle.
Well, that could have gone worse, concluded Junior. Billy was chatting and laughing with his family and he didn’t look bored or annoyed or anything. If I were a big footy star I’d hate people fussing over me.
‘Wow, cuz, you never told me you knew Billy Slater – the guy’s a legend!’ whispered Fetu.
In the back of his brain, Junior knew there was something he was forgetting, something big and important. Then suddenly it came to him. Or, rather, she came to him.
‘So this is the famous foot-a-ball star Mr Billy Slater. The one who wants to tell me how to feed my son,’ said Mama Taafuli. She seemed to appear from nowhere – another perfectly timed entrance.
‘Oh, hi. You must be Mrs Taafuli,’ Billy said awkwardly.
‘Mama, you’re embarrassing Junior,’ Mele whispered loudly. Junior put his head in his hands. He couldn’t bear to watch.
‘That’s all right, Mele,’ said Billy. ‘I guess you mean the Healthy Snack Challenge that I set the boys?’ He’d faced a lot of tough oppositions in his football career and he could see that Mrs Taafuli was no pushover. She looked tough. Very tough. Her death-ray stare was set to kill.
‘So, you think my son is unhealthy, hey? Something wrong with the food I give him?’ said Mama Taafuli.
Junior peeked out from behind his hand and his worst fears were confirmed. His mum was wagging her finger right in Billy Slater’s face.
Billy just smiled politely. ‘Well, that was just a challenge we set all the boys to encourage them to avoid junk food for a week. It wasn’t really –’
But Mama Taafuli interrupted before Billy could finish. ‘All right, I think you need to stay and try some proper Island food, and then you’ll see how well Junior eats,’ she said.
‘Oh, that’s very kind but –’
‘No buts. Stay. Eat. You look too skinny to me, anyway.’ Mama Taafuli laughed. ‘How do you play football with such a little body?’
Billy couldn’t help but smile. Junior’s mum certainly spoke her mind and she didn’t take no for an answer. Before he knew it, she was handing him a plate and making him sample every single Samoan dish on the very crowded picnic table.
‘This is amazing, Mrs Taafuli. What is it?’ asked Billy, after sampling his first dish.
‘Ahh, you mean my palusami. It’s just taro leaves in coconut cream,’ Junior’s mum said with a satisfied smile.
‘It’s fantastic. And this pork is incredible, too,’ said Billy. ‘It’s cooked in an emu, right?’
Everyone around the table burst into laughter. Junior’s dad laughed so much he had tears in his eyes.
‘We call it an umu,’ corrected Mama Taafuli.
Billy gave an embarrassed smile. ‘Right, good to know.’
‘Wait till you try mum’s poi – banana pudding,’ said Junior. ‘It’s my favourite.’
‘Can’t wait,’ said Billy. ‘I do love my bananas.’
When lunch was over, Fetu brought out the footy again and Billy decided to stick around for a quick game of touch. Junior couldn’t believe he was playing with a first-grade player. But after a few minutes, Billy became just another pair of hands – very quick hands.
Billy and Junior played on the same team, and like before, the game was fast and furious. And fun. At one point Billy completed a nice run around, passing it to Junior, who flicked the ball behind his back for Billy to sprint away over the makeshift tryline between two large pine trees. But Billy didn’t put the ball down to score. Instead, he waited for Junior to run through and do the honours.
‘Nice ball work, Junior. You should try some of that in the next match,’ Billy said after the game. ‘You’re not just a ball runner – you have some serious skills!’ he added with a sincere nod.
‘Yeah, maybe that will shut the other teams up!’ said Fetu.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Billy.
‘Some kids have been hassling Junior about his size,’ said Ramona, ‘just because they can’t tackle him without using the whole team.’
‘Is that true, Junior?’ Billy asked with concern.
Junior nodded, the grin from scoring a try with Billy quickly fading from his face.
‘Well, those kids don’t know what they’re talking about. Forwards are supposed to be hard to tackle, right?’ said Billy.
‘Yeah, I guess,’ said Junior.
Billy patted him on the back. ‘Trust me, I’ve faced some unfriendly opponents in my time. When you get out on that field, just do what comes naturally and be proud of who you are.’
‘That’s right. Samoan pride, cuz!’ said Fetu.
Junior nodded. ‘Thanks, Billy.’
As he waved goodbye after the game of touch, Junior hoped Billy was right. But a worm of doubt still lingered in his mind. How can I be proud of myself? thought Junior. I’m not even sure who I am.
The night air was cool and the grass on the Ravens home ground was wet with dew as Junior and the rest of the team gathered around Coach Steve after another gruelling training session.
‘Okay, lads, I know you’ve been hanging all session to find out about the Healthy Snack Challenge –’
Banana Kick Page 3