by Dirk Mclean
5
Guards and Spies
Passing by the athletic office during lunch, Ozzie spotted the revised field schedule posted on the notice board. Victor United had the field after school. Their name seemed appropriate, he thought, for he and Victor had both united their teams. Ozzie now had to show which one was the strongest team.
It wasn’t just local history Ozzie liked. He also enjoyed books and stories about castles, kings, queens and knights. In the unused classroom, he completed a diagram on the board with a marker. Ozzie United straggled in and began grumbling.
“What’s he done now?”
“What are these words?”
“You’re the one who said he should be captain.”
“Okay, fellas, this won’t take long,” said Ozzie, pointing at what was clearly the goal. “This is the main gate to the castle, or keep. As goalkeeper, I am the final protector of the castle.”
“Who’s in the castle?” Josiah asked.
“The queen, of course. We’re Queen Jenny’s special guards. We keep the keep safe.”
“Yeah, right...” a voice snickered.
“No interruptions, guys,” Ade barked.
“In front of me is a wide bridge,” continued Ozzie. “On the bridge are three of the fiercest defenders in the kingdom. Josiah, Owen and Cyril. Kenneth, you too, for now.”
“That’s why you can’t be late for practice, Josiah,” chided Sunny.
“Beyond the bridge in a clearing in the forest are four more guards, midfielders. Peter, Atah, Ezekiel and Sunny.” Ozzie pointed to the areas on his drawing. “Beyond the clearing is the border, the centre line.”
“It’s where the queen’s land ends,” said Josiah.
“Exactly!” Ozzie was getting excited. “It’s the first line of defence and the first line of offence. It requires three of the most highly trained warriors. Sometimes they will take the four midfielders with them across the border into enemy territory, where they will...”
“Score for queen and realm!” shouted Sunny.
He looked at his final team in their positions and tossed the ball to Ade.
* * *
Ozzie centred the following morning’s practice on an attacking drill. Rain had fallen the evening before. The school’s field was moist, but not soggy.
The point of the drill was to move the ball from the middle line toward the opposing goal area. It involved the four midfielders and the two forwards working together. With each exercise they tried to get the ball in front of the goal for scoring or aimed for one of the corners first to win the corner for a kick.
During the drill, Ozzie spotted Muhammad. He seemed to be watching them and writing on a piece of paper. Ozzie had seen Mr. Greenidge observing their morning practices from a distance. That was okay. He probably did that for Victor United as well, for he was not allowed to coach either team. But what was not okay was Muhammad spying on them and taking notes.
Ozzie could not share the information with his team, fearing a possible fight. But at lunchtime he watched Victor United’s practice. He noted how they moved the ball between them and communicated their play as if reading each other’s thoughts. Some of them had sharp moves. But they seemed to move in slow motion like they had all the time in the world.
When the practice ended Victor ran toward Ozzie. Ozzie was surprised to be caught out. Victor had not looked in his direction once during the practice.
“Looking for secret tips, Ozzie?”
“I’m only doing what you sent Muhammad to do this morning — spy on the enemy.”
“I did nothing. If he watched your silly training, it was his choosing. I did not order him.”
“Tell him to stop.”
“I tell him nothing. But I ask him, as favour, not to do it. But only if you... or your little boys... stop spying on us.”
“Okay then,” said Ozzie, walking away from Victor.
The next day, when the lunch buzzer sounded, four of the Victor Uniteds headed toward a few Ozzie Uniteds in the hallway. Ezekiel started a quiet chant which Peter and Sunny picked up on:
Victor’s boys, say you’re sorry
Victor’s boys, you are posers
Victor’s boys, don’t you worry
Victor’s boys, you’re just losers
The four Victor Uniteds, led by Muhammad, stopped in front of them and replied:
Nigerians can’t play soccer
Nigerians better quit
Nigerians why you bother
Our Victor United team is it
Both teams used lots of hand gestures as they chanted at the same time to drown each other out. Soon they drew a crowd. Ozzie was about to step in when a teacher said,
“Okay, that’s enough. Move along, students.”
The boys ignored her.
“Move along. Or you go to the office!” she barked, stepping between them, unafraid.
The teams walked away from each other. Ozzie thought about the names he had been called as an African. He thought about the teasing his limp had caused. No, I did not fall out of a tree in the jungle.
The next day Mr. Greenidge summoned Ozzie and Victor to a meeting in Ozzie United’s room.
“Sit,” Mr. Greenidge ordered. Ozzie and Victor sat cautiously.
“I have observed you and your teams — your behaviour. How you react to each other around the school,” he said. He was clearly upset. “You two are supposed to be leaders.” He started pacing the floor. “Stop the nonsense now. I don’t care who started what. Next week is your presentation match in front of the school. It is not a grudge match. That’s not good sportsmanship.”
He wiped the edge of the desk with a tissue and looked at the boys, almost sadly. His tone became softer.
“What your school and Principal Arsenault want to see is a display of your skills and abilities. Soccer is something you both love, right?”
“All my life, Mr. Greenidge,” said Ozzie.
“Yes. That’s right,” Victor offered.
“There cannot be enmity between both of you and your teams. Keep this a healthy competition. Can you do that?”
Both nodded.
“And pass this on to your teammates. If you all cannot be civil toward each other, the presentation match will be called off. Understood?” Both Ozzie and Victor bobbed their heads.
“Right. Shake hands like the gentlemen I know you both are,” Mr. Greenidge concluded.
Ozzie stuck out his hand and Victor shook it.
As Victor left the room, Mr. Greenidge stopped Ozzie.
“I’m curious, what was the moment when you decided to be a goalkeeper?”
Ozzie thought about it for a few seconds before answering. “I was around nine. Tired of guys making fun of me with my limp, you know? One day the usual goalkeeper for our side at the orphanage was sick. Nobody wanted to go in goal. I walked in for the first time. I’d never thought of that position before. I was hit in the face by the ball and caught it as it bounced off my face. That was the moment. Yeah.”
“What happened when the guy came back?”
“They voted him out. They said that if I could take a hit like that and keep playing, I was their man. Your turn. What was the moment you decided to be a gym teacher?”
“I didn’t have a moment. I tried out for the Soca Warriors back in Trinidad & Tobago and didn’t make the squad. I came here for university and drifted into teaching. I started at Islington PS in the west end. Then Principal Arsenault asked me to come here.”
“And you play soccer every Sunday with some fellas.”
“How did you know that?” he asked, surprised.
“People talk, Mr. Greenidge. It’s a small school. How did you find Ozzie United’s room?”
“It’s a small school,” Mr. Greenidge said. “People talk.”
* * *
&nb
sp; October began with overcast skies. Ozzie United had finished their practice before any rain fell.
Walking off the field, Ozzie saw Riad and Ahmed, Victor United defenders. They were struggling to pump their ball at the side of the school. Ozzie smirked to himself. Then he recalled Mr. Greenidge’s remarks from the day before.
Ozzie fetched the pump from his locker and ran back to Riad and Ahmed. “That pump is broken. Use this,” said Ozzie, handing over his pump.
Riad and Ahmed both looked at Ozzie with wide eyes. He could tell they were wondering what he was up to.
“Just give it back to me at lunch,” Ozzie said.
“Thanks,” said Ahmed, taking the pump.
Ozzie turned and walked away before anything further was said.
During the morning announcements Principal Arsenault reminded the school of the presentation match. She also mentioned the character word for October — Cooperation. Ozzie smiled to himself.
6
Changes Coming
That evening the full Holder clan gathered for supper. “Darlings, I have some news,” Mom started. “I had an interview last Friday in Hamilton.”
Right away, Ozzie’s brain began spinning. “How far is Hamilton from here?” he asked.
“Let Mom finish,” Rebecca scolded.
“Roughly one-and-a-half hour’s drive,” Mom replied. “I have been offered Head of Paediatrics at a new hospital there.”
“A promotion with an increase in pay and great benefits,” Dad enthused. It sounded as if he was selling something to Ozzie and Rebecca.
“Congratulations, Mom.” Rebecca smiled.
“Yes, congratulations, Mom,” Ozzie repeated. He couldn’t make himself smile. “That’s a long drive to work and back.”
“Well... we will all have to move,” Mom said.
Ozzie and Rebecca stopped eating.
“I will commute Monday to Thursday with earlier hours. And work from home on Fridays,” Dad said.
You’re selling what you and Mom had planned all along, Ozzie thought. That’s what grown-ups do. Don’t say we have to pack up this weekend.
“When?”
“I would start the first of December,” Mom replied.
Eight weeks away, Ozzie calculated. He thought about what he knew about Mom and Dad before they had become Mom and Dad. Mom had told them that they bought this two-bedroom house intending to have a child. But they were unable to have any of their own. Then they became part of a community group who sponsored orphaned refugees. They had chosen Rebecca and Ozzie to be their children and live in the house.
“I have friends here I like. I just started Grade eleven. Can I commute with you, Dad?” Rebecca pleaded.
“That won’t be a good idea, sweetheart,” he answered.
“Look, I still have to decide,” said Mom. “I haven’t said yes. And I haven’t quit my job here.”
Rebecca excused herself and headed upstairs. Ozzie did not think it would be fair to Mom if he ran off, too.
“Please finish your supper, Ozzie,” Mom urged.
He obeyed, chewing slower than he usually did.
Later, in their bedroom, Ozzie and Rebecca sat on her bed. The bedroom’s decorations were split down the middle. Rebecca’s side had bright cushions and included posters of Drake and Rihanna. Ozzie’s side was a combination of Toronto FC, Nigeria’s Super Eagles and Manchester United, with a Nigerian HighLife music poster to mix it up a bit. The cream colour of the walls was the only thing that matched.
“Dylan and my soccer buddies are all here,” Ozzie said.
“Yeah, I know,” said Rebecca. She had calmed down after leaving the dinner table. “New schools. New friends. We’ve done it before, Ozzie.”
“I thought after we came to Canada there would be no more big changes.”
“Let’s talk to Mom and Dad in the morning.”
They spent a few minutes planning what they might say. Then they sat in silence, not sure their plan could work.
Suddenly Rebecca said, “Wanna play memory game?”
That was what she and Ozzie called a game of images they played when they needed to reconnect with their Nigerian roots.
“I’ll start,” Rebecca said. “Dog peeing on Miss Lemon’s oranges in Oja Oba market.”
“Smiles on the children’s faces whenever Super Eagles scored.”
“Swimming in the sea at low tide.”
“Calabar Carnival before Christmas.”
“The smell of the earth on the first day of the rainy season.”
“Field trip to the shrine at Osun Festival in Oshogbo.”
As always, the memory game worked. Finally, Ozzie and Rebecca were smiling. They hugged, then got ready for bed.
* * *
“Ozzie... Ozzie... wake up...” Rebecca says in hushed tones.
“What, Sis...”
“Put your things in this bag. We have to leave.”
Ozzie rolls out of his cot and steps onto the rug. Moonlight filters through the room.
“Quickly. We must hurry.”
Ozzie realizes that Rebecca is frightened, like the morning a few weeks ago when they woke to find their parents gone. Disappeared. And a small trail of blood. One of his teachers had also disappeared the year before. He starts to grab his belongings. The last thing he sees is a book, alone on the table. Rebecca hands him a purple scarf. He wraps the book in it and stuffs it into a leather weekend bag. Rebecca is filling a bag with her own things, but leaving precious items out.
“Put on your shoes, Ozzie. Don’t turn on any lights.”
They creep down to the main floor of the house and dash outside. They cram into the back seat of a car with family members Ozzie barely knows. They drive through the darkness, stopping at police checks where he is told to keep silent. At times they stop and wait. Ozzie wonders where they are all going. Before he can ask he feels his eyes closing.
When Ozzie’s eyes open, Rebecca is dragging him out of the car. The air is salty. It is early morning. Noisy birds fly overhead. He and Rebecca watch the car drive away. They stand with their bags on the ground. Looking at the huge door in front of them, he sees a word he will come to know as “orphanage.” This is to be their new home.
* * *
Ozzie woke up mumbling, “Orphanage. Orphanage...”
He had not had that dream in a long time.
The Holder household was getting ready for school and work.
Ozzie and Rebecca had called their summit. They were ready to state their case for the family to remain in Scarborough. Ozzie swallowed the last of his oatmeal while Rebecca munched on a wedge of apple.
“Mom and Dad, you both grew up in this neighbourhood,” Ozzie started.
“Ozzie and I know first-hand how traumatic it can be to leave a home environment,” Rebecca continued. She aimed to hit an emotional nerve.
Mom and Dad listened, occasionally nodding, sometimes shaking their heads from side to side.
“I’ll think about that.”
“Umm hmmm...”
“Good point.”
“I am not thinking only about my career. I want what’s best for the whole family,” Mom said, sipping her green tea.
“People, we all have places to get to. Let’s discuss this further another time,” Dad said. And that brought the summit to a close without a definite decision.
“One more thing. Rebecca and Ozzie, let’s keep this a family secret for now,” Mom said.
Ozzie and Rebecca smiled at each other. They had scored some points.
Ozzie dashed to his practice. He had to make it on time. After all, he had to keep leading by example.
7
The Spirit of Cooperation
The nets were in place on Blessed Mother Teresa school’s soccer field, though the field was smaller than the
one at William Hall. Ozzie had decided to hold a six-a-side match for their Saturday afternoon practice. They were going to play forty minutes straight without a break. Dylan had delayed his cross-country practice run to act as referee. He was wearing a black T-shirt with a new dollar-store whistle around his neck.
Ozzie wasn’t wearing his beaded chain. No jewellery would be allowed on match day. He felt almost naked without it. He stood in goal. Cyril was defender. Midfielders were Ezekiel and Peter. Ade and Sam stood as forwards. On the opposite end, Kenneth stood in goal with Josiah as defender. Sunny and Atah were midfielders. Forwards were Trevor and Owen.
Standing slightly off centre, Dylan blew the whistle. He had to do it twice because the first time it barely sounded. Ozzie’s mental commentary started:
Owen passes the ball to Trevor and crosses into my half of the field. Ade covers him. Sam moves to prevent Owen from getting the ball back. Sunny and Atah trot toward the centre line. Ade steals the ball from Trevor and looks to send the ball over to Sam. Owen is in a better position, blocking Sam instead of Sam blocking him. Ezekiel moves up to help Ade, and they pass the ball between them. Ezekiel runs ahead. Defender Josiah comes forward, looking unsure about whether to defend against Ezekiel or Ade. Ade still has the ball. Josiah focuses on him. Ade appears to head straight toward Josiah. He does not see Ezekiel move past him. Ade lobs the ball above Josiah’s head, and Ezekiel heads the ball past goalkeeper Kenneth into the back of the net.
Score! Whistle!
“Offside!” yelled Dylan.
“What?” Ezekiel asked, amazed.
“The goal will not be allowed,” Dylan insisted.
“You’re blind or what?”
“If you insult me again I’ll issue a yellow card,” Dylan challenged.
Ade joined Ezekiel. “What kind of ref are you?” asked Ade.
Everyone joined in, ready to add their opinions. They all knew Dylan. He had played with them in the summer. He substituted for either side for six-a-side. But today he was not really one of them. He was the ref.