‘Not yet?’ he repeats. ‘James, we only have two hours until kick-off.’
‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ I tell him reassuringly. ‘I have a feeling he will come.’
Everyone is equal
Treat people the way you’d like to be treated on and off the field. We are all unique and we all have something to teach each other.
CHAPTER 16
THE PERFECT BOOT
The large cardboard box in the back of Dad’s ute is teasing me as it sits unopened while I do the usual jobs of getting the drink bottles ready, inflating the warm-up balls and stocking the first-aid kit. I’m imagining the game against Camden Red over and over in my head, visualising the things that I’ll be doing in an hour’s time. Kicking, passing, finding space, guiding my team and targeting Camden Red’s weak spots are just a few of the things I’m preparing for.
The first players to arrive are Michael and Mikayla. Michael’s cracking jokes and mucking around, but Mikayla is in the zone, which is exactly where I want her to be. Next up are Gerard, Luke and Ben. They’re holding a bagful of the zombie posters that were displayed around the school today.
‘Got the sticky tape?’ I say, raising my eyebrows.
‘Right here,’ says Gerard, patting his pocket.
‘You know what to do,’ I tell him. Gerard and the other two walk into our change room and begin their work.Tobias,Patty and Tawera rock up, followed by Dexter and Connor.
While the rest of our team is arriving, so is Camden Red. They’re all decked out in brand new red, white and blue Camden Rams tracksuits. They look a million bucks.
‘Hey!’ calls Tawera, getting the attention of their captain and halfback Shawn Sharpe. A few of their other players turn around as well. ‘Where did you get the flash gear from?’ Tawera asks them. ‘How come we don’t get tracksuits, Coach?’ he asks, turning to Dad, but Shawn gets in first.
‘They only give the good stuff to the A teams, not the B teams, dummy!’ He laughs and so does the rest of his team.
‘Yeah, well, A stands for average and B stands for best!’ Tawera calls out after them, but Shawn and the rest of Camden Red have already disappeared into their dressing shed. Soli and Amiri arrive carrying a bucket of chicken drumsticks and munch on them as they approach the change room. Dad suggests that they put it away and save it for after the game, so they don’t get a stitch. Last but not least is Lewis, looking excited to be playing his first game of footy.
‘Take these, Lewis,’ says Lewis’s mum, handing him a box of bandaids.
‘This too,’ instructs his dad, shoving some headgear on Lewis’s head and strapping it tightly underneath his chin. Dad takes Lewis’s mum and dad aside and explains that he’ll be safe and that he’ll be eased gently into the game. Suddenly, I remember the unopened parcel in Dad’s ute.
‘Lewis, come and give me a hand,’ I say. I climb up into the back of the ute and go to slide the large, heavy box down to the tailgate, but Lewis has already reached over the side and lifted it above his head.
‘Where should we put it?’ he asks.
‘In here,’ I say, and he follows me into the change rooms where everyone is getting ready. Lewis places the box gently on the floor. ‘You going to open that or what?’ Tawera says from his seat in front of his locker.
I take some scissors from the first-aid kit, slice the sticky tape down the middle of the lid and pop the sides up. I try and see inside, but it’s too dark. Everyone else is craning their necks to get a glimpse of the contents.
‘Open it all the way!’ says Ben again, impatiently. So I do. I slide the scissors down the length of the box until the sides collapse and the insides explode outwards.When the team react to what’s inside, it’s like a hundred golden bars have fallen out of it. And in a way, they kind of have.
‘Did you know about this?’ I gasp, looking at Lewis. ‘Did you do this?’
‘No, Teddy, not me! But I think I know who did,’ he says.
‘Who?’
‘Miss Warren. She’s the only one I gave the Stealth-Stud soles to,’ he says.
In front of us is a pile of orange shoeboxes with Nike footy boots inside. On each shoebox there’s the Nike tick and the word ‘Stealth Studs’ in the corner.There’s an envelope sticking out from underneath the fallen boxes. I reach down and open it.
‘Read it to us, read it to us!’ pleads Tawera. So I do.
‘No way!’ I say, refolding the letter and placing it back into the envelope. The rest of the team can’t believe it either. They’re just sitting there in awe of the bright blue boots with the orange soles and yellow Nike tick. Camden Red might have flash new tracksuits, but I bet they don’t have a footy boot sponsor!
We all make mistakes
Behind every mistake is a lesson. Take the time to reflect and grow from your experiences.
CHAPTER 17
WHO ARE WE?
We have just put our new boots on. Usually Dad would be launching into his pre-game presentation by now, but he’s not here. In fact, no one knows where he is. He better get here soon or I’ll be giving the team instructions instead. There’s a knock on the door. It’s the referee. ‘Five minutes until kick-off,’ he says.
I nod and look behind the referee for any sign of Dad, but he’s nowhere to be found. Just then I hear music start up outside the dressing room but it’s not coming from the footy field’s PA system – it sounds like it’s being played through a cheap set of speakers. Suddenly I recognise the song. It’s ‘Thriller’ by Michael Jackson, one of Mum’s favourites. The bassline from the start of the song gets louder as the speakers get closer to the dressing room. I recognise the voices of the ladies working at the canteen screaming with laughter. Whoever is out there must be having fun. The bassline continues, bah-doo-doo-doo-dum, bah-doo-doo-doo-dum. It’s really rocking now, and it begins to echo down the hallway of the dressing shed.
Suddenly Mikayla lets out a shriek as she spots someone coming into the dressing room. Then Patty screams! Then Tawera! The opening lyrics of the song bounce off the tiled floor as Dad struts into the room dressed as a zombie from Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ film clip. He’s wearing an old ripped tracksuit, yellow horror-movie false teeth and has white makeup all over his face and black rings around his eyes. He holds his arms out in front of him like the walking dead, and in one hand he has an old Bluetooth speaker from the tractor shed.
A few of us start to laugh when we realise what we’re seeing. Dad puts the speaker on the floor and claps his hands over his head, encouraging us to do the same, so we do. Now that our team is clapping the beat, Dad does the Michael Jackson moonwalk across the tiles in his gumboots and everyone cheers, ‘WOOHOO!’ From the speaker the bassline continues to roll on, bah-doo-doo-doo-dum, bah-doo-doo-doo-dum.
Then Dad does something I’ve never seen him do. He drops down with his legs wide apart and does the full splits! Then he springs back up like a pair of scissors snipping together and keeps dancing!
CAMDEN BLUE GOES NUTS!
Dad then runs zombie-style over to the wall and begins ripping down one of the zombie posters that Luke, Gerard and Ben stuck up earlier. Again, everyone cheers, knowing that Shawn and his mates were the ones who created them. Zombie-Dad waves everyone in the team over to do the same. In less than five seconds, the whole team is ripping down the zombie posters and singing along to the song at the same time. When all the posters are gone, Dad throws the Bluetooth speaker to Mikayla and motions us to follow him like a team of zombies, so we do. The Camden Blue zombies stagger down the hallway with their arms outstretched, Dad and Mikayla leading the way.We lurch and stumble outside like the zombies from the film clip. Then Dad turns the corner and marches straight into the dressing shed of Camden Red.
‘What’s that noise?’ I hear Coach Sharpe ask as we approach. Coach Sharpe’s question is soon answered when the Camden Blue zombie flash mob takes over their dressing shed and Dad starts doing the moonwalk again in front of Camden Red. They have no idea what’s going on! Sha
wn backs away into the wall and Krispen sits down next to his kit bag and cuddles his towel.
Dad pulls one of the crumpled zombie posters out of his tracksuit pants pocket and holds it up. Mikayla can see that he’s about to speak, so she cuts the music. Everyone falls silent.
‘Camden Red don’t respect you!’ Dad says to us before remembering his zombie teeth are still in. He pops his fingers into his mouth and pulls out the horror fangs. ‘Look at these posters they’ve made – they think tonight’s game is a joke!’ he continues. Coach Sharpe goes to say something, but Dad waves him away. ‘Are you actually okay with this, Camden Blue?’ Dad asks, pointing at the poster again. ‘Well?’
‘Not me!’ yells Mikayla. She looks around for support.
‘Not me either!’ I say, standing with her. Gerard soon follows me and drapes his arm over my shoulder. Ben follows him and does the same. Soon enough, the whole team is shoulder to shoulder in a circle around Zombie-Dad inside the Camden Red dressing room.
‘WHO ARE WE?’ Dad screams.‘
BLUE!’ we scream back.
‘WHO ARE WE?’ he repeats.
‘BLUE!’ we scream again.
‘WHO?’
‘BLUE!’
‘WHO?’
‘BLUE! BLUE! BLUE! BLUE! BLUE! BLUE! BLUE! BLUE! BLUE! BLUE! BLUE! BLUE!’
‘NOW GO AND SHOW EVERYONE WHO WE ARE!’ Dad bellows, pointing at the doorway.The screaming army of Camden Blue zombies run out of the dressing shed and onto the field, ready for the game of our lives.
We win the toss and Camden Red will kick to us. Even though it’s technically a home game for us, with two Camden teams playing, the crowd is split. Mum, Nonna, Nonno and Matt are up in the stands, all wearing blue.
Nonno has his New South Wales State of Origin beanie on and his binoculars stuck to his face, watching the action. He is looking right at Shawn placing the kicking tee on the halfway line and balancing the ball on it. Camden Red form a line on either side of him and prepare for the kick downfield. The referee blows his whistle and WHACK! The ball travels deep into our half. It’s a white speck in the night sky, but it comes zooming back to earth quickly and straight towards me. I snap into action, judge the landing zone and run towards it. The ball drops perfectly into my arms and I cradle it on my chest before taking the first run of the game.
‘Settle it, Teddy!’ yells Luke across the field. He’s right, I need to take control and build some momentum without taking too many risks. Their defence comes racing towards me, but I can already tell they’re moving too quickly. I zoom past their winger and step their centre, who has already left the formation of their defensive line. Krispen lunges at me to make the game’s first tackle, but I wriggle from his grip. I’ve already made an easy 20 metres. I spot a small opportunity in the middle of the field and run inwards to draw the rest of the defenders. Just a few more seconds and I can put Tobias into a gap – BOOM! Shawn appears from nowhere and catches me off guard. He drives me into the ground. It feels like I’ve been hit by a truck. I take a breath and get straight to my feet – I can’t let Shawn know I’m rattled.
‘Amiri! First run!’ yells Ben.
Amiri steams onto the ball and collides with Camden Red’s solid wall of defence.
OOOOF!
Three tacklers hang off Amiri and suddenly the ball comes loose.
‘Dive on it!’ yells Mohamed from Camden Red. Amiri is protesting to the ref that the ball has been raked out of his hands. Instead of diving on it and taking the tackle, Camden Red’s centre scoops the ball and begins to run in open space. Michael is chasing him, but he’s too far behind.
‘All the way!’ shouts Shawn to his player, who is sprinting to the tryline. Michael has made some ground but it’s not enough. Their centre dives over the line and scores under the posts.
‘Nice hands, big fella!’ says Shawn sarcastically to Amiri, and pats him on the back. Amiri hangs his head, knowing he’s let us down. ‘Get used to those points going up there,’ Shawn teases me, pointing at the scoreboard. He laughs and runs over to kick the conversion. We’re six points down after two minutes.
Not the start we wanted at all.
Thank you
Before a match, I would always show gratitude towards my parents, coach and teammates. Every night write down three things you are grateful for from that day.
CHAPTER 18
BE THE PENDULUM
They scored, so we kick to them. As soon as they receive the ball, I see what their game plan is. It’s pretty simple – run at Mikayla. Her eyes are like dinner plates as she sees the runners getting ready.
‘Get over and help her!’ I scream at the team. Mikayla is brave and takes down the first runner in a courageous tackle, but the onslaught is relentless. Runner after runner targets the weak line of defence on Mikayla’s wing. Soon enough, it’s the fifth tackle and Shawn chips a tricky little ball angled infield. I race to defuse the play but the ball bounces awkwardly and straight back into Shawn’s hands. He scores by placing the ball on the grass and celebrates his try by picking it back up and throwing it over the dead ball line like a hand grenade.
‘That’s my boy!’ yells Coach Sharpe from the sideline. ‘Too easy!’ He laughs. My blood is boiling. First it was the zombie posters and now it’s the disrespect on display by Camden Red and their coach.
‘You can kick this with your eyes closed!’ yells Dakota from Camden Red. Shawn doesn’t close his eyes, but he kicks the conversion easily. In under ten minutes the score has gone to 0–12.
On his way back to the halfway mark, Shawn smiles at me and points at the scoreboard again.
With five minutes to go until halftime, the score has ballooned out to 0–18. If that isn’t bad enough, two more bad things happen.Very bad things.
‘ARRGGGGH!’
screams Soli after making a tackle. The referee immediately stops play and Dad runs out to Soli. The rest of the team stand back while I join Dad and Soli, who’s writhing in pain.
‘My ankle! I think it’s broken!’ he sobs. Dad pulls down Soli’s sock carefully. Soli winces when Dad touches him.
‘Hmmm, don’t know if it’s broken, but you’ve definitely rolled it,’ Dad says, studying Soli. ‘We’d better get you off the field.’ Soli shakes his head.
‘No, Coach – we’ve only got one reserve,’ he says through gritted teeth.
‘You’re right,’ says Dad. ‘And we’re going to use him.’ Dad turns to the referee. ‘He’s coming off, we’ll bring out our only reserve.’
Dad helps Soli to his feet and supports him as he hobbles off the field. Out comes Lewis, taking deep breaths.
‘Be the pendulum, be the pendulum,’ he’s saying to himself. Unfortunately, Lewis doesn’t get the chance to put his scientific knowledge to the test before halftime. In the next play, the second very bad thing happens. Camden Red’s fullback intercepts a sloppy pass from Tawera and runs 30 metres to score in the corner. They miss the conversion but then the halftime siren sounds and it’s 0–22. There’s no way back from here.
The dressing shed is stone cold silent as we come in for our five-minute break. The only sounds are of us sipping from our water bottles and our forwards sucking in oxygen after having to run more than usual. I try to find the words needed to motivate the team, but I’m numb. I didn’t think the game would go this way. The squelch of Dad’s gumboots can be heard on the tiles again as he enters the shed.
‘You want to know how I’m feeling?’ he finally says after walking around in a circle, making eye contact with everyone at least once. ‘I’m disappointed, that’s how I feel.’ No one says anything. The mood has changed from before. No music, no clapping, but Dad still has the black rings painted around his eyes. We’re all disappointed with ourselves. We can play better footy than this. ‘In fact, I’m also feeling tired. I’m tired of talking,’ he says. He puts his clipboard under his arm and starts walking out the door.
‘Dad! Don’t go!’ I say. ‘Let’s talk about what we nee
d to do!’ Very quickly, in what feels like a millisecond, Dad gives me a
WINK.
Instantly I know that he’s letting me in on a joke. He always winks at Matt and me when he’s about to play a trick on Mum. It’s his way of saying, ‘Just play along with me on this.’ Lucky for me, I know what Dad is trying to do.
‘No, James, I already told you, I’m sick of talking. Remember, actions speak louder than words!’ He pulls a mobile phone out of the pocket of his ripped tracksuit jacket and, to everyone’s astonishment, throws it into the bucket of iced water used to fill the drink bottles. It splashes the players sitting next to the bucket and sinks to the bottom like an anchor being thrown from a fishing boat. The whole team gasps in disbelief. They look at the phone and then at him, but Dad walks past us, throwing me another quick little wink before marching out the door. Most of the players are murmuring to each other in shock, their eyes still glued to Dad’s waterlogged phone.
‘Okay, guys,’ I say, getting up and standing in Dad’s place. I know Dad’s trying to help, and I won’t let him down. It was like his wink gave me a blast of energy. ‘Let’s face it, it’s going to be impossible to win from here, but we can at least show Coach that we’re prepared to put up a fight!’
‘That’s right,’ says Mikayla. ‘We owe it to Coach to start stepping up.’
Players start to nod their heads in agreement.
‘Remember, Soli’s injured, so we don’t have any reserves,’ I remind them. ‘We need to look out for each other!’ By now the team are standing and rallying around.
I’m about to walk the team back out when there’s a sudden knock at the door.
‘Actually, you’ve got one more reserve,’ says a familiar voice. It’s Alex, who has just finished his game of club soccer and still has his boots on.
Red vs Blue Page 7