Red vs Blue

by James Tedesco

  ‘Dude! The sun isn’t even up yet!’ he finally says, squinting at me.

  ‘I didn’t sleep, Matt. I tried, but I couldn’t,’ I say.

  He sees that I’m wearing pyjamas and footy boots. He knows that I’m serious.

  ‘I won’t be able to relax until I kick some conversions.’

  ‘This is about the one you missed, right?’ Matt sighs. He throws his legs out of the bed and plants his feet on the floor. He sits on the side of the bed for a while, rubbing his eyes and trying to wake up.

  ‘So, Best Out of Ten?’ I ask him again.

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ he says. ‘Go and set the balls up. I’ll be outside soon.’

  Best brother ever!

  I click-clack down the hallway again, race outside and get the gear from the tractor shed. It’s time to get my kick on.

  I’m ready to go. The grass on the practice paddock is freshly mown and wet with dew.The early-morning fog drifts across the farm and the cows at the other end of the paddock are watching me curiously as I stretch my calves and hamstrings. Matt appears at the front door and warms his hands with his breath. Steam rises up from his hands with each exhalation. He’s slipped on a tracksuit and his Parramatta beanie. Like me, he’s got his boots on.

  ‘Hey, let’s make this a bit different today,’ I say to him. He looks at the balls spaced evenly across the field and then at the goalposts. To Matt, it appears to be a normal game of Best Out of Ten.

  ‘Different how?’ he asks.

  ‘Each time I’m about to kick, I want you to try and put me off,’ I say.

  ‘Like those kids the other night?’ he says.

  ‘Yep, exactly like that,’ I say. ‘Yell out something dumb.’

  I move over to the first ball and place it on the kicking tee. The first kick will be from the left-hand side of the field. I’m already beginning to line up the kick when Matt yells out from behind the post.

  ‘So you actually want me to yell out just as you’re kicking?’ he says.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Like what?’ he asks.

  ‘Be creative,’ I say. Matt nods and I can tell he’s trying to think of something clever to yell.

  Again, I line up my kick. I take a deep breath and exhale. Like Matt, a cloud of steam exits my mouth in the cool Menangle morning air. I step back, then run forward and –

  ‘WILLY WILLY WOMBAT!’ Matt yells. This time I’ve anticipated that there will be noise and I totally block it. The ball flies cleanly off my foot and floats straight between the posts! One from one.

  ‘Willy willy wombat?’ I say to Matt. ‘Really? Is that all you’ve got?’ I laugh.

  Matt takes this as a challenge. I line up the second kick. Again, I step back, then run forward –

  ‘BOOGER BOOTS!’ he yells this time. Just as I kick, I giggle at the ‘booger’ part. Luckily, the ball still goes through the posts.

  ‘Good kick!’ Matt laughs. He thinks it’s pretty funny too. Kick three coming up. I start to move in.

  ‘ARMPIT STINK!’ he sings. Again, I do my best to block it out and the ball sails through!

  By the time I’m on the tenth kick, I’ve kicked nine from nine. Can I actually get ten in a row? I need to make this one count. If I’m finally going to push the other night’s missed kick out of my mind once and for all, this kick will seal the deal. I look at the ball, then at the posts. Then at the ball again and at the posts again. I step back, then move forward and –

  ‘DON’T FLASH YOUR BUTT RASH!’ he yells. I can’t believe it; the ball goes straight through. It’s a perfect score, ten out of ten! The cows go wild! Matt runs over and high-fives me. ‘Well done, little bro,’ he says.

  Matt doesn’t usually give compliments, so I can tell that he’s pretty impressed. I’m more impressed with the distractions he came up with. Especially the one about the butt rash.

  ‘You ready for Camden Red?’ he asks.

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ I say. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Suddenly, a hearty chuckle in the distance gets our attention. As usual, Nonno has gone for his early-morning walk up to the top paddock. He takes his binoculars to look at the hot-air balloons as they drift above the farms in the district. This morning he’s finding it hard to hold the binoculars up to his eyes because he’s laughing so much.

  ‘What the . . . ?’ says Matt, looking up in the air for the nearest balloon, but all he can see is the sun rising in the east and some light wispy clouds overhead.

  ‘Vieni a vedere!’ shouts Nonno from the hill.

  He’s telling us to come and see.

  Matt and I leave the footballs where they are and sprint up to Nonno’s vantage point.

  Still laughing, he hands Matt the binoculars and points towards the southern end of our property. I squint to try and see what’s there, but whatever it is, it’s too far away.

  ‘No way!’ gasps Matt, standing tall with the binoculars pressed up hard against his eyes. He starts to laugh. ‘NO WAY!’ By now he’s lowered the binoculars and he’s next to Nonno, sitting on the ground and heaving with laughter.

  ‘Give me those!’ I say, and yank the binoculars off him. I scan the area but can’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  ‘Just beyond those trees,’ says Matt. ‘At Breeanna’s house.’ That’s when it comes into focus. In the front paddock there is a picnic blanket, all spread out with what looks like breakfast – croissants, toast and fresh fruit. Sitting and gazing into each other’s eyes are Breeanna and Luke. He’s even wearing his best shirt. It’s the same one he wore to his cousin’s wedding last year. They’re sipping hot drinks and probably telling each other how in love they are. Behind them, their breakfast is getting cold and is slowly disappearing.

  That’s what happens when you bring a goat on a picnic date.

  Breathe through it

  Things don’t always go to plan so take the time to reset and stay focused. If you are feeling overwhelmed, take three deep breaths and focus on your breathing.

  CHAPTER 14

  THE SCIENCE LESSON

  ‘Come on, James, help me out!’ pleads Dad over dinner.

  ‘Two reserves, that’s all I’m asking for.’ Dad knows that this weekend’s game may as well be the grand final. We’re playing Camden Red, and just like me, Dad wants to prove a point by not just beating them, but by whooping their boastful butts.

  Mum’s getting a bit cranky with Dad because he’s taking this game so seriously and putting pressure on me to find two new players.

  ‘John Tedesco!’ Mum says. She places her fork next to her plate of chicken cacciatore. When Mum says your first and last name and then puts her fork down at the dinner table, you know things are going to get real.

  Judging by the look on Dad’s face, he’s just realised that Mum’s about to unload.

  ‘James is under enough pressure to captain this team to a win against Camden Red!’

  Dad tries to say something but Mum shuts him down. ‘He doesn’t need the extra worry of signing up more new players, does he?’

  ‘No, dear,’ Dad says. He looks down at his plate and scoops up some chicken and tomato sauce on his fork. Mum studies him, just to make sure he looks remorseful enough before she picks up her fork again. She must decide he does, because she continues eating. Dad looks over and gives Matt and me a quick wink.

  ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ I say. ‘I think I know someone who wants to play.’

  Dad nearly chokes on his chicken when he hears my news.

  ‘Really?’ he asks, clearing his throat. ‘Who?’

  ‘Lewis from school,’ I reply.

  ‘Whoa!’ says Matt.

  ‘Yep,’ I say.

  Matt starts to get excited.

  ‘If you reckon Soli and Amiri are big, Dad, you should see Lewis!’ says Matt.

  ‘Is he any good?’ asks Dad.

  ‘He will be,’ I say. ‘After I teach him how to pass the ball, run the ball, tackle and be tackled.’

&n
bsp; ‘So, you’re saying he’s got potential?’ says Dad. He’s a glass-half-full kind of guy.

  ‘Heaps of potential!’ I say.

  On Tuesday after school, I meet Lewis at the training fields and make sure that he has told his parents about coming to footy training. There’s no point keeping secrets from your mum and dad, they always find out the truth.

  ‘I promised them that my studies won’t suffer,’ Lewis says. ‘Besides, I said it would help with my self-confidence.’

  I’m glad he listened to me. I suggest to Lewis that we work on some skills before the rest of the team arrives.

  I throw the ball to him and he catches it.

  Tick.

  I ask him to pass it back. He does.

  Tick.

  I tell him to run at me. But he just stands there.

  I tell him to run at me again. He still just stands there, frozen.

  I wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  ‘What’s the matter, Lewis? You’re way bigger than me,’ I tell him.

  ‘I’ve never been tackled before,’ he says.

  ‘I won’t hurt you,’ I say.

  ‘But what about in a real game?’ he says. ‘It won’t be you tackling me.’ He’s right – I didn’t think of that. Fortunately, I remember that Science is his favourite subject.

  ‘Lewis, explain the science behind a pendulum.’

  ‘That’s easy, Teddy,’ he says enthusiastically. ‘Pendulums have energy in their systems. When the pendulum weight is lifted, it contains gravitational potential energy. When the weight is released, the potential energy is converted into kinetic energy, or energy of motion.’

  ‘And what if a heavy pendulum weight hits a smaller pendulum weight?’ I say. Lewis gets even more excited.

  ‘Another easy one. I’ll make it simple for you – the smaller pendulum is sent flying.’

  I get ready to finish the science lesson. ‘Lewis – YOU BIG PENDULUM!

  YOU STRONG!’ I say in a Tarzan voice. Lewis laughs.

  ‘TEDDY SMALL PENDULUM! TEDDY GET SENT INTO SPACE!’

  Lewis laughs again and begins to loosen up.

  ‘Okay, I get it,’ he says, gripping the ball.

  ‘Energy of motion, that’s all it is.’

  Lewis stays on the tryline and I move to the 20-metre mark.

  ‘Let’s try again,’ I call. Lewis takes a deep breath and runs towards me. He begins to pick up speed. I move into a tackling position and brace myself. Five, four, three, two, one, Lewis the big pendulum smashes Teddy the little pendulum to smithereens. I lie on my back and admire the stars. The only problem is that I’m seeing stars that aren’t really there.

  ‘Teddy?’ says Lewis, looking down at me. He slaps me lightly on the cheeks. ‘Teddy?’ He squirts water from his drink bottle on my face. I quickly return to earth.

  ‘What happened?’ I say groggily. ‘Did I tackle you?’

  ‘Ah, you tried really hard,’ Lewis says politely. ‘But . . . I smashed you.’

  He helps me to my feet. ‘You going to be okay?’ Lewis asks. It takes me a while to answer.

  ‘Only if you promise to run like that on Friday night,’ I say.

  The glass half full

  Focus on your own and your team’s potential instead of your limitations. You will feel more empowered and good things will happen when you give your energy to your strengths!

  CHAPTER 15

  CAMDEN BLUE IS DEAD

  Alex arrives at school at the same time as Matt and me. He’s juggling his soccer ball on his feet, knees and head.

  ‘Hey, Teddy, wait up!’ he yells as he sees me walking through the front gate.

  ‘Catch ya later, little bro,’ says Matt, walking off to the senior section of the school. ‘See you at the game tonight.’

  Our whole family is pumped for the showdown against Camden Red.

  Dad pulled an all-nighter prepping for the game. He’s organised the game plan and positions, and has some new plays written down. There’s no way he wants to lose to Coach Sharpe and his son Shawn.

  ‘You got your head in the zone?’ asks Alex. ‘Everyone at school is talking about Camden Red vs Camden Blue.’ I think about his question. I feel calm. I feel cool. I feel prepared.

  ‘Yes, I guess I do,’ I reply, thinking about my Best Out of Ten kicking game with Matt. If I focus on something, I can achieve anything. The hard part is getting the team to believe the same thing. ‘We need one more reserve,’ I say to Alex. ‘You sure you can’t play?’ It looks like he’s not listening because he’s concentrating on balancing the ball on his head.

  ‘You know what my mum says about rugby league,’ he replies, still concentrating on the ball. ‘She reckons it’s too rough.’

  I’m about to ask him to see if his mum might change her mind, but a photocopied poster catches my attention. It’s stuck on the inside of the school library’s glass door, facing outwards.

  ‘Teddy?’ says Alex. He’s walked ahead and hasn’t realised that I’m staring at the piece of paper sticky-taped to the glass. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.The top of the poster says CAMDEN BLUE IS DEAD. Someone has typed it in a font that looks like blood is dripping from the letters. Underneath the title is a picture.There are four flesh-eating zombies that someone has cut and pasted from Google Images.They’ve removed the original zombie faces and photoshopped Luke, Ben, Gerard and me on them instead. Also, they have somehow shaded our eyes yellow, coloured our teeth green and put blood around our mouths. Underneath the picture it says, LOVE FROM CAMDEN RED.

  ‘Krispen and Mohamed,’ I say under my breath. ‘They’re already trying to psych us out.’

  ‘Not cool,’ says Alex. We hear laughter across the walkway and see a group of boys crowding around a tree near the canteen. When we walk over, we see them looking at another copy of the zombie poster pinned to the tree trunk. One of the boys notices me standing behind them.

  ‘Run, it’s one of the ZOMBIES!’

  he shouts. They all run off, laughing. When I scan the rest of the playground, I can see that the posters are stuck to every surface imaginable. Rubbish bins, walls, stairwells, fire extinguishers and even the janitor’s ride-on mower are all plastered in CAMDEN BLUE IS DEAD posters. Our faces are everywhere!

  Gerard finds us next to the tree, still in shock.

  ‘Seen this?’ he says angrily, shoving a scrunched-up zombie poster in my face.

  ‘They’re all over the bus stop!’

  ‘And all over the school – look,’ I say. Gerard’s face goes from angry to furious.

  ‘Krispen and Mohamed! And that dirty Camden Red! I’m going to –’

  ‘You’re not going to do anything,’ I say, cutting him off. ‘We’re going to let our game do the talking for us tonight.’

  ‘But they turned us into zombies!’ he says.

  ‘Yeah, but you look better as a zombie than you do in real life,’ I say, trying to make him laugh. Finally, he cracks a small smile. ‘How about we start pulling them down?’ I suggest. ‘But don’t throw them out – I have a plan for them,’ I add.

  Our last subject of the day is Design and Technology. I’m so pumped about tonight’s game, I can hardly concentrate.

  ‘Hey, boys,’ says Miss Warren. ‘Did you bring the 3D printer back today?’

  Lewis shoots me a nervous glance.

  He handed in the printed Stealth-Stud soles the other day as our finished assignment, but we haven’t told Miss Warren about Damir stealing the printer yet.

  ‘Um, it’s still at my uncle’s house, Miss,’ he says.

  ‘Well, I need it back on Monday please, Lewis,’ she replies. Luckily Miss Warren doesn’t notice that anything’s wrong and she goes back to teaching the class.

  Lewis looks at me and I shrug my shoulders. I know that we’ll have to come clean and tell her the truth soon, but just not today – there’s too much to focus on already.

  ‘You still good for
tonight?’ I whisper to Lewis.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Mum, Dad, Uncle, Aunty and my cousins are even coming to watch.’

  ‘Just remember that you’re a pendulum,’ I tell him. ‘You can take any hit.’

  ‘Pendulum – got it.’ He smiles.

  The bell rings for home time and my brain goes into game mode. I high-five Alex, Luke, Ben and Gerard. Krispen and Mohamed are waiting at the gate for me. ‘Grrrrr, zombie alert!’ Krispen laughs as I walk past.

  ‘See you tonight, Krispy Kreme,’ I say, without looking up. He hates it when we call him that.

  Instead of Mum picking me up, Dad is waiting for me in the ute. The radio is cranked up high and I can hear his golden oldies songs from the front gate. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel and then pretends to play the drums when the beat kicks in.

  ‘Hey, Dad,’ I say, opening the passenger-side door. He gets a fright and puts his pretend drumsticks in the pocket of his tracksuit jacket.

  ‘Look in the back,’ he says excitedly, and points. I walk around to the tray of the ute. There’s a huge cardboard box there with my name and address on it, as well as a large red sticker that says, EXPRESS DELIVERY.

  ‘What is it, Dad?’ I ask. ‘Can I open it now?’

  ‘Later, mate,’ he replies. ‘Let’s get to the fields – we’ve got some prep to do,’ and, after I hop in, he accelerates quickly out of the pick-up zone. In the footwell is a paper bag full of afternoon tea for me, and a cold orange juice is sitting in the cup holder. I can tell that Dad’s had a nap today, because he is buzzing and full of energy. ‘How’d you go at school? Did you get us one more player?’ he asks. Dad knows he can ask this now because Mum’s not in the car. Also, he knows that I won’t get upset.

  ‘Not yet,’ I say.