Max the Golden Boot

by Joachim Masannek

  I held my breath. This was serious stuff. Soccer meant everything to my parents. Me too. I told you about my soccer bag and what my dad expected from me. He was sure that I’d make it, just like my grandfather had. My grandfather, whose heavy oversized biker jacket I wore all the time, had made it all the way to the championship in Greece, when he was young. And my father was the next in line, until he had a bike accident that finished his career early on. Now my brothers and I were destined to carry the torch. Still, I just wanted to have fun.

  My father used to say: “Plumbing puts the food on the table, but pro soccer is so much more fun, plus they pay you good money!”

  “And your soccer talent can get you into a good college,” my mom would add.

  I heard it all the time.

  My father looked at me. He wanted to hear what I had to say.

  It was hard, but I accepted my father’s conditions.

  “But there’s one more thing,” I dared to add. “Please go to Buckman, D-Dad. I need my player’s card and he has it. Y-you and M-Mom need to bring it to the division administration and they’ll change it the same day. Then I can play with the Wild Soccer Bunch in the next game.”

  My father looked at me. He knew he had to do it. It was something only a parent could do. So he agreed.

  “Thanks, Dad, they need me desperately.” I said quietly. But then I grinned. “You know, they ditched Kevin and Danny, their best strikers, because of me. That’s how important I am.”

  “Get to bed!” he ordered. But I could tell he wasn’t angry. He was proud.

  The Wild Soccer Bunch Plays Englewood Soccer Club

  My father and mother didn’t disappoint me; they did everything I had asked. I got my player’s card immediately. I was surprised to learn that my father was now so much into the Wild Soccer Bunch that he wanted to see the Devil’s Pit with his own eyes. So he drove me in his van to practice. He wanted to introduce himself to Coach Larry, but I begged him to just drop me off outside the gate.

  “They’ll get to know you soon enough,” I said.

  “What’s the matter? You afraid I’m going to embarrass you?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Well,” I grinned. “Mom usually lets you know when you start getting all jiggy during games. And she won’t be there.”

  He laughed. “She says I get jiggy?”

  “You know,” I said. “Crazy.”

  “She’s right,” he said. “It’s frustrating standing behind the lines watching a game. You want to scream, you want to go in there and play, you want to tell everyone—the coach, the refs, the players—what to do.”

  “I know, Dad.” I said. “But this is my team.”

  My father chuckled. “Okay. I’m not going to embarrass you. This time. I’ll have plenty of time to do that when you play a game. By the way, when’s your first game?”

  “S-Saturday,” I said with excitement.

  We both laughed as I climbed out of the van. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. He just waved and I turned my back and ran into the Devil’s Pit.

  At first, there was a somber mood in the Devil’s Pit, because Kevin and Danny hadn’t shown up. Still, the Wild Soccer Bunch didn’t change their minds about me. Nobody could change a decision made by the majority of the players: not even their leaders, no matter how good or important they were. The practice went smoothly. We worked hard because the game on Saturday was really important for us. I was happy. I finally felt like I was in the right place. Everyone was very nice and Larry was the best coach ever. He really knew what he was doing. He didn’t talk much but we knew we could trust him.

  On Saturday, I woke up early with butterflies in my stomach, looking forward to my first game with the Wild Soccer Bunch. We were going up against the Englewood Soccer Club. We expected to beat them in our sleep, because they were at the bottom of the table in Division 8. Since the start of the season, they hadn’t scored a single goal, and if we beat them, we would be in second place, and we’d have a shot at the championship.

  It was a hot Indian summer day, and my oversized biker jacket was way too warm. I was glad to take it off at the Devil’s Pit. Soon it was time to take the field. It was my very first time wearing the black-as-night uniform with the bright orange shin guards and the Wild Soccer Bunch logo on my chest. The back of my jersey was still bare. No name and no number. Yet. But that would change soon; I was sure of it. My position on the team would be cemented after this one game. I bet both my feet on that, and you know how important my feet are to me.

  Larry announced the line-up. We were playing eight against eight. Kyle the invincible at goal, of course. Julian Fort Knox, the all-in-one defender, in the center of defense, with Josh at the right and Alex at the left. Tyler, our number 10, reigned in mid-field with Diego the tornado at left and Fabio, the wizard to his right and for the very first time, yours truly as sole striker.

  I looked at Larry and smiled proudly. Larry wore his usual pinstripe suit, which was neatly pressed with sharp creases down his pant legs. He looked dead serious and I wondered why. We were playing one of the worst teams in the league!

  “Max!” he turned to me, pushed his baseball cap back and furrowed his brow. “Max, you gotta be a team player. You are playing for two—Danny and Kevin. The two of them were like yin and yang, a perfect pair. Each knew what the other one was going to do. You have to make that work with Fabio and Diego. They will make the runs from the wings and they’ll feed you with balls. But the Englewood defense will be all over you and that’s why it is especially important that you pass the ball to your teammates so they can score.”

  I nodded without hesitation. He talked and I listened. Or maybe I didn’t really listen because I knew it was my big day and I was going to shine. And no matter what my coach says, I do it my way.

  When I stepped out onto the pitch, I completely forgot the fog that always surrounded me.

  Then it was time for the game to start.

  The first thing that happened was the refs didn’t show up. After a little hobnobbing between the coaches it was decided that Larry would step in and do the reffing.

  “I’m the referee, which means you are all on your own,” he told us.

  We may have been on our own, but the Wild Soccer Bunch was used to that. We formed a circle and put our arms around each other’s shoulders. Tyler, the team captain, slowly counted to three.

  “One, two, three!”

  “WILLLD!” our battle cry echoed around the field.

  The Englewood team jumped a mile when they heard us roar, and they were still a little confused at kick-off. One of their mid-fielders stumbled over the ball, and a moment later, I was there, taking over the ball, and storming for the Englewood goal.

  Their defense just stood there, stumped. I couldn’t believe it! I felt like I was slicing through them like butter. When I got to the penalty box, I took aim and kicked the ball right into the far corner of the goal.

  One zero! I raised my arms and ran to the bleachers. My dad jumped off his seat and cheered wildly, waving his arms, while my mom clapped.

  I ran towards Larry, who signaled to the center mark for a kick-off.

  “L-Larry!” I shouted happily, “The first of 12.”

  Larry didn’t show any expression. He was now the referee, not our coach. He just looked at me thoughtfully. He seemed worried. This didn’t change when I scored a second goal. After my third attempt on goal, which, to my disappointment, flew inches over the cross bar, I finally understood why.

  Englewood had recovered from their shock and their coach had seen through me.

  He was screaming to two of his defenders and one of his midfielders to guard just me. I heard him shout “Block him and make sure he never passes!” He was waving his arms frantically and to tell you the truth, it made me feel great. Three players were assigned to guard me!

  His players listened. The three of them chased, circled, and blocked me wherever I went. They weren’t the best playe
rs, but they worked hard to stand in my way, no matter where I went. I couldn’t make my runs, I couldn’t even pass the ball. If I had seen anyone at all open, I would have gladly passed the ball. I swear. A few times, I saw Fabio and Diego uncovered. One pass from me and they would have scored because they were completely open. I didn’t listen to their screams before, when I was attacking all by myself. And now my eyes were fixed on my feet and everything else was surrounded by fog, and I couldn’t do anything to change that.

  I lost the ball, and the other team attacked forcefully. Yes, they were the worst team in the division, but they were a year older than us. Their players were bigger and faster. When I lost the ball, they quickly passed to each other and they scored on their first counterattack. Their fans and parents were cheering wildly.

  The scoreboard read two to one.

  Fabio took control.

  We stood at the center waiting to kick off.

  “You need to pass,” he said to me angrily. “Let me and Diego attack. It’ll confuse them, because they are all over you.”

  I nodded. He was right.

  He explained his plan to me. I was supposed to play back to Tyler, while he and Diego would make the run forward to the goal. Tyler would then send them a long ball while I faked a run to the side attracting half of Englewood to me.

  I nodded again. It was a smart plan.

  Larry whistled. Fabio pushed the ball to me. I turned around and looked for Tyler.

  Problem was, I couldn’t see Tyler. All I saw was the fog, and in my confusion, I held the ball for far too long. An Englewood forward snatched it from me, and with four nice passes, his midfielders took all of us by surprise including Kyle who helplessly tried to catch the ball that was shot above his head and into our net.

  The game was tied.

  “I can’t believe it!” Julian yelled. “You ball hog! Why didn’t you pass?”

  Blood shot to my head all the way into the tips of my hair, sapping all color from my bright red Mohawk. I blushed so much that my bright red hair paled by comparison. I saw my dad waving frantically from the stands.

  I couldn’t believe it either. What happened to me? I told myself that I needed to recover fast and start to fight. The game resumed and I was everywhere, running frantically. I was doing defense, I was in midfield. I would do anything to get the ball and score again. I was front, back, center, and during the next attack by the Englewood team, I was determined to get possession of the ball.

  I didn’t hear Julian scream: “No, Max! Leave it alone. I got it!”

  I didn’t hear him and that’s why I didn’t straddle the ball, I straddled Julian and rammed his right leg. Julian went down, screaming. He held his knee and yelled at me.

  “Are you blind!?” he screamed.

  The sky was falling on me. I stood by Julian, but I felt useless.

  Larry stopped the game and checked Julian who was moaning in pain. There was no way around it. I knew that we just lost our best defender because of my recklessness. I was responsible for his injury and the game was a total disaster.

  Alex and Tyler carried Julian off the field. I was in a fog again. Everything and everyone looked like white shadows. Five minutes later, Larry whistled for half time.

  At half time, the Wild Soccer Bunch met up with Larry at the hot dog stand, but I didn’t dare go over there.

  My parents waited next to the stand under the umbrella that said VIP Lounge in bright orange letters. I could feel their eyes upon me. My father tried to cheer me up. “Come on, son. You can do this. You already scored two goals. Now get back to your team. You can’t be here at halftime.”

  My dad’s words didn’t make me feel much better, though. Instead, I felt what I always felt—pressure—and it was too much for me. Instead of joining my team, I sat down at the other end of the field. I was so ashamed. When Larry whistled the beginning of the second half, all I said was: “L-Larry, I don’t want to play anymore.”

  My Darkest Hour

  The second half against Englewood was pure torture. Larry had accepted my wish without any protest at all, and so I had to watch helplessly as my team lost against the worst team in the division.

  Zoe the fearless came in for me, and Joey the magician came in for Diego. But although they played really well, and Fabio and Zoe each scored, the momentum of the game shifted and the other team had the upper leg.

  Roger replaced the injured Julian, and our defense collapsed immediately at the beginning of the second half. The Englewood team—who were up until now the laughing stock of the league—crushed us. When it was seven to four against us, I quietly left the Devil’s Pit. I left everything behind, even my soccer bag and my biker jacket. Wearing my cleats and the Wild Soccer Bunch jersey, I squeezed through a hole in the fence and ran off.

  I ran straight into Mickey the bulldozer and his Unbeatables. They had finished their work on the flowerbeds and were lazily dozing in the sun like alligators in the wetlands. When I came running, all their eyes shot open at once.

  “What did I tell you?” Mickey’s breath rattled. “These guys are like the plague. They stick to your feet like gum and doggy doo-doo.”

  Well, I had sure stepped in it. The monumental creature from the prairies of China roared laughing, and he was still laughing as I was getting onto the tram.

  Once I got to my neighborhood, I wasn’t sure where to go. There was no point in going straight home. I would be cut from the Wild Soccer Bunch; that was a done deal. I had to run away. That was my only choice. I didn’t need to wait for their decision. They had probably already gone to Kevin and Danny and begged them to come back. I would be reduced to a footnote in their team history that made them laugh. “Max, what a loser,” they would say, making fun of me. “Even Roger and Josh play better than him,” they would say.

  And they would keep laughing at my expense for a few weeks, then I would be forgotten. Forever.

  I tried to imagine what my dad would say. I imagined him and my mom still in the Devil’s Pit stands, trying to figure out where I was.

  I could see it now. My father summoning me to a final meeting. Me standing before the judge as he sentenced me to no more soccer for the rest of my life! And because my mom and dad thought their children’s soccer was everything, I would be nothing.

  So why go home? Anyone care to tell me? Do you think my father would be happy if I switched to golf? Hell no! And that’s why I walked right by 9 Stetson Avenue, took my key from around my neck, closed my eyes, and threw it as hard as I could. I didn’t care where it landed. I wouldn’t be needing it. Then I ran to the playground and hid under the slide. Boy, it was a tight fit. Last time I pulled this stunt was six years ago and I was a lot smaller back then.

  Thick Glasses

  By seven, it was dark and cold. At least for a boy wearing nothing but a soccer jersey. By nine, it was raining, and the ground underneath the slide turned icy, like the shores of Lake Michigan in December. I just sat there, cold and unmoving, like a statue in a goldfish bowl. I knew how embarrassing this whole thing was, but I couldn’t do anything about it. So I just shivered. Shivered to keep warm and shivered to keep my mind off the loneliness of being there. To me, at that moment, the icy puddle underneath the slide was the greatest place in the universe … also the only place.

  But something inside of me still clung to this world, because the cold suddenly forced my eyes open. I was like a tiger in the jungle, awakening from a deep sleep. I looked out into the fog that surrounded me. I was anxious. Fear gripped me and I was pretty embarrassed too. I wanted to, but I just couldn’t get up.

  And then they came … like the Samurai Japanese warriors. They materialized at the edges of the curtains of fog surrounding me.

  I wasn’t sure if I should be afraid, but in the end, I didn’t care. It was too late to run. I liked them, the Samurai. They seemed friendly. They wanted to help me. Even if they were devils from the darkest corners of hell, they had come just for me. Slowly they showed their faces. T
yler, the number 10, was the first to step into the dim light of the playground. Roger was to his right and Zoe to his left. Suddenly the entire Wild Soccer Bunch team encircled me. That is when I woke up from my shivering. My pride and my honor woke up too so I jumped to my feet—and banged my head on the slide just above me. I forgot about that. Larry later told me the bang could be heard all the way to the Devil’s Pit.

  “Yeah, that’s him alright,” Josh grinned. “Max, you selfish, ball hog! Is your head okay?”

  I rubbed my bump.

  “W-What do you want?” I hissed. “And h-how did you know w-where to f-find me?”

  “First of all, you fool,” Zoe snapped. “We care about you.”

  “Yeah,” Tyler shrugged. “Believe it or not, we actually kinda like you.

  “So we started thinking about what we would do if we felt as lousy as you feel right now,” he added.

  “I don’t need your pity,” I said. “I can make fun of myself without your help.”

  “Tell me about it,” Zoe grinned. “Why else would you squeeze yourself into this tiny hole? How comfortable is that?”

  “Kiss my cleats,” I snapped back. I was angry. I didn’t like them visiting me at my embarrassingly stupid secret hiding place. I guess it wasn’t so secret anymore.

  “Right back atcha,” Roger quipped. “You think you’re the only one with a hiding place? You think you’re terminally unique or something? We all have places like this. When I was a little kid, I used to hide in my mom’s wastebasket. If I did that today, all I could fit in there would be my butt!”

  They all laughed. I had a hard time not laughing, believe me.

  Finally, I grinned. “Don’t you want to know how the game ended?” Diego asked.

  That wiped the smile off my face.

  “You l-lost?” I mumbled.

  Diego shrugged. “True,” he said, “We did lose. But it was tight. Eight seven, to be exact.”

  “A loss is still a loss,” I whispered. “And that’s it for the championship.”