How could I cheer up my friends? I jumped down the steps and put my cling wrap and Callum’s drink box in the bin.
‘We need a name!’ I said from the bottom of the steps. I didn’t have to say for our netball team. Everyone knew straight away what I was talking about.
‘Yeah!’ said everyone. In a row, the team sat a little straighter.
‘The Cockatoos?’ asked Claire.
No-one liked that idea much. That name was already taken for their basketball team. But we had other ideas. Already the glum mood was gone.
‘The Kookaburras?’
‘The Rosellas?’
‘The Mean Team!’
That last idea came from Mickey. When he said it, he jumped up and did a face like an angry wrestler. He’s such a boy.
But I liked how his idea rhymed. And then I thought of it – the perfect name for our team.
‘The Dream Team!’ I cried. ‘Like … we’re all friends. So we really are the perfect team.’
Angie and Claire did a high five. Then Becky joined in. Even the boys seemed happy with our new name.
We started talking then, loud and excited, about what went wrong yesterday and how we could play better. We talked and planned right until the end of lunch.
Ding, ding, ding …
When the bell rang, we walked down the steps together and headed for class.
The other kids scattered, running in different directions and doing their own thing.
But we stayed together. We walked as a group, talking and laughing like a gang. The Dream Team, together.
Now we had a name. We started hanging out all the time after that. Even when we weren’t playing netball, we sat and talked as a team.
Angie and Claire stopped playing basketball at lunchtime. Amazing! Of course, most of the time we played netball anyway. It was fun. When the lunch bell rang, we would gulp down our food, eager to be first down at the courts.
The rest of the team were getting better and better, learning not to step or bounce the ball. They were shooting better, too.
Angie spent heaps of time with me. She was my sporty superhero.
Sometimes we just played catch. Slow at first, then faster and faster until I was throwing with force. Soon I learnt to catch a fast ball, like catching a giant bullet.
‘Aim at the bib,’ Angie would say. ‘Not the person’s face.’ And sometimes I did just that.
Becky and I made a poster on my dad’s computer. Before each netball game, we would tie it to the fence.
Then we would stand in a circle and pile our hands in the middle, one on top of the other until we couldn’t tell whose hand was whose. Together, we would throw up our hands and call out, ‘Go, Dream Team!’ It was brilliant. Doing that made my whole body buzz, ready to play the game.
We lost our next game. The other team had four girls who played on a real team after school. Those girls were really competitive and played like bull terriers – angry and unstoppable.
We only lost by three goals, so we didn’t feel too bad. It’s not all about winning, after all.
Then, for our third game, I had my first taste of victory. Suddenly, I understood why the others tried so hard to win.
Whoops!
Someone dropped the ball. But it wasn’t me. It was Tony, the boy who was last to be picked. We were playing against his team.
Quickly I reached down, fumbling for the rolling ball. Tony didn’t even try to stop me. Then I had it. Solid in my hands.
‘Here, Alex!’ called Becky.
With good aim for once, I passed the ball to her.
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Tony. But his team didn’t say ‘never mind’. They didn’t say anything. I was glad that I didn’t get stuck on that team!
Over, across, and up went the ball, as it was passed and shot through our goal. Another goal for us! And we were already winning.
With each point and each pass of the ball, our team moved closer to something exciting, just around the corner. It was like finally making it to Christmas Eve.
Near the end of the game, I saw a little smile on Angie’s face. Even Callum stopped frowning. Then, at last, the final whistle blew.
Like pins attracted to a magnet, we rushed together, jumping up and down, hugging and doing high fives.
It was brilliant. I was light and happy and proud, high on the taste of a win. It was such an amazing feeling, being part of the winning team. I wanted to feel that way again.
All week after our win, I wanted to celebrate! Becky and I made up a chant.
Dream Team are the win-ners!
Dream Team are the win-ners!
As we sang we did a silly dance, kicking our legs out to the side. We did it all recess, until some of the other kids called, ‘The Dream Team stinks!’ But we just laughed.
Winning with the Dream Team made me feel bold and strong and part of something important.
We won our fourth game by three points. It wasn’t easy, though. Sometimes the ball moved so fast I didn’t know what was happening.
But it was an important win, because now we had a chance at the grand final. Imagine that! If we won our fifth game, we would qualify for it. I had never been in a grand final. But I was sure it would be fun.
The week before our fifth game, we practised whenever we could. The whole team was hungry to win.
And at the start of the next game, we were pumped. It was as if we were zapped with electricity. We had springs in our legs and suction caps on our hands.
Soon the ball was flying. Zig, zag, zap! It moved through our hands with speed.
Just before half-time, the scores were level. Angie was playing centre. She was blazing across the court like a bushfire. I could tell she wanted to get ahead before half-time.
She had the ball and was trying to get it to our attackers. But the other team were good defenders. They weren’t making it easy for Angie.
Forward went the ball. Then it would hit a dead end, the other team blocking our players. Back came the ball to Angie.
Suddenly, Angie seemed to change her mind. She threw the ball to Becky. Then Angie ran backwards, calling for the ball again. I kept my eye on Angie and stayed with my player. But I wasn’t sure what was going on.
What was Angie doing? She was running away from our goal.
Becky threw Angie the ball. And before I knew it, Angie was calling my name.
‘Aleeeex!’
I ran closer, to clear my player. Flash came the ball, rushing towards me.
I reached my hands up, eyes on the ball. But it came faster than I was expecting. Faster than ever before.
My fingers touched the ball. But I wasn’t ready for the blazing speed of it. The ball kept flying. It slipped through my fingers.
Whack!
Like a sudden punch the ball hit me straight in the face.
I don’t like seeing my own blood. No-one does. But I saw a lot of it that day and it was gross.
After I was hit in the face, blood started pouring out of my nose. Some of it splattered on the netball court, leaving a dirty red stain. But most of it splattered onto my top.
The whole team crowded around me, with Mr Dwyer telling them all to move back. I could hear Angie next to me, almost sobbing. ‘Sorry! Gosh, I’m so sorry, Alex.’
Mr Dwyer sat me on the bench with a big blue ice-pack on my nose. Not very attractive! My nose wasn’t broken, it was just bleeding from being hit so hard.
I felt terrible. Not because of the pain. That stopped. And not because of the blood, either. I felt terrible because of that gremlin ball. Why, why, why hadn’t I caught it?
Angie had spent so much time practising with me. But when it really mattered, I still couldn’t catch the ball.
Mr Dwyer clapped his hands and looked at Callum. ‘You folks will have to play on with six players,’ he said.
Callum nodded and shrugged. But I couldn’t look anyone in the eye.
Six players. Not good at all.
Everyone else ran back onto
the court to finish the game.
I sat like a sack of potatoes, feeling glum and full of doom. I knew what was going to happen. The Dream Team was going to lose this game, and lose our chance at the grand final.
And all because I couldn’t catch a ball.
When everyone started playing again, something amazing happened. Our team got the first goal.
It was only a short time into the second half. And we were already ahead! I moved the ice-pack a bit, so I could see better.
Angie was amazing, racing here and dashing there. And all the others played so hard that soon their faces were glowing red and their hairlines were sweaty. But it was working.
Our team was winning.
I sat on the bench, peering past the icepack, watching our score creep up.
Three goals ahead. Then four …
A strange, sad feeling came over me. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t playing – my team was winning without me.
The strange feeling grew stronger. I started thinking back to the start of term and how I was picked last on the team.
In our first game I had lost the ball to the other team. Our team lost that game because of me. Slowly I went though all our games and all my mistakes. A hundred mistakes with the gremlin ball.
I didn’t care about my nose anymore. I pulled off the ice-pack and dropped it on the bench. I felt all mixed up as I sat there, looking like Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer, watching my team’s score go up and up.
When they won the game, I clapped from the side while the team jumped and cheered out on the court. We were in the grand final.
But inside I felt kind of sad and left-out. Worried questions flashed through my mind.
What if I had kept playing today? Would I have made more mistakes and stopped my team from winning?
Maybe the Dream Team was better off without me.
I was quiet at home that night. It didn’t help that my voice sounded far away, talking through a swollen nose.
Mum made a big fuss, clucking around me like a mother hen. Even Ryan, my big brother, fussed over me. He cooked pikelets as an afternoon treat – with extra jam for me.
They thought I was quiet because my nose was hurting.
But that wasn’t the reason. My nose didn’t feel as bad as the strange, lonely feeling inside.
At bedtime, Mum sat with me singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’ like she used to when I was little. Soon my whole body seemed to sink into the sheets. Mum’s voice was far away as I drifted off to sleep.
I am on the netball court, playing with my friends. I feel light and sporty – like I could fly.
I throw the ball easily. It flies between us. My friends smile and throw it back.
Suddenly, I realise I am in my pyjamas. I look around, embarrassed. It feels like I am sinking, sinking, down into a spongy netball court. I call for the ball, but no-one can hear me. My legs are stuck and I can’t move. It’s like I’m under water. Around me, the ball still flies around. Then I see a new face. A stranger is playing with my team! She is tall, strong, sporty. I realise she is someone to help them win the grand final.
The shock of seeing the new player hits me, hard. In a fog, the court slowly fades into the distance. My team stays in the dream, playing in the grand final without me.
When I woke up, the house was quiet. Everyone was asleep. I felt as if I were the only person awake in the world.
I rolled onto my back. My star and moon stickers glowed on the ceiling. Inside I felt heavy and empty. Not a good feeling. Not a good dream.
I wasn’t used to caring about sport like this. Life was better when I didn’t have to worry about letting my team down.
I sat up and turned on my light, trying to shake the dream from my mind. Never mind, I said to myself. It’s not about winning. It’s about joining in and having fun.
And I had been doing that. I was on a team with friends. But it was no fun being hit in the nose or dropping the ball. It was no fun if I stopped everyone else from winning.
I slumped back on my pillow with the light still on. I thought about Becky, Angie and Claire. I thought about Callum, Mickey and Brad. They were such brilliant friends to me. I really didn’t want to let them down … again.
And lying there, in the cold light of the lamp, I realised what I had to do.
It was a strange plan. But maybe it would work.
I couldn’t always catch a ball. But here was something I could do – a way to help my friends win the grand final.
For the rest of the week, I sat and watched. No more playing netball for me.
That was part of my plan.
Sitting and watching was harder than I expected. Especially once my nose felt better. But that was a secret. I told everyone I couldn’t play because my nose still hurt.
Sometimes I had to sit on my hands and cross my ankles under the bench. Otherwise, if the ball came near, my feet would try to jump up and my hands would try to catch it.
Each time they took a break, Becky would bring me drinks and check how I was doing. But I didn’t tell her about my plan.
Angie kept glancing over as me as she played. I’m not sure why. She did it so often that sometimes she even missed the ball.
The third time she did it, Callum called out,‘Angie! Keep your eyes on the BALL.’
She glared at him like she wanted to start yelling.
Normally, I would have called out a joke or tried to cheer them up. They didn’t need to fight. But instead I stayed quiet and sat out.
Then, during lunchtime on the day of the grand final, Angie walked over. ‘Come and play,’ she said quietly. ‘I won’t throw hard. Promise.’
I looked down at my knees. I could hear the rest of the team calling to each other as they played. ‘I’ll see how I feel,’ I said.
‘We need you, Alex.’ Angie’s voice had pleading sound to it.
But I just shrugged. Angie would understand once I helped them win the grand final.
I couldn’t give up now.
I had made it through the first part of my plan. Now it was time for the second part – my grand-final plan.
‘Alex, are you in here?’
It was Becky, looking for me. But I didn’t want to be found. I was hiding in the girls’ toilets.
That was my grand-final plan.
Once my team couldn’t find me, they would have to start playing the grand final without me. Perfect! Without me to mess up, they would win for sure.
But I hadn’t counted on Becky finding me before the game.
I was sitting on the lid of the toilet, hugging my legs tight. Becky’s shadow moved under the toilet door. I heard puffing as she tried to peer under the door.
‘Alex, open the door!’ Becky’s voice sounded funny from leaning low.
Without making a sound, I reached out and undid the lock. Maybe if I told Becky my plan, then she would help me hide.
But as the door swung open, a surprise awaited me. Becky wasn’t alone.
Behind her stood the whole team, even the boys!
I let out a giggle and pointed. ‘Hey, you’re in the girls’ toilets!’
But no-one was laughing. Not even Mickey. Angie’s eyes were flashing, like when Callum told her what to do.
Suddenly I felt as if I had been caught doing something wrong. Was my grand-final plan a bad one?
Suddenly I was scared. In front of me, crowded into the girls’ toilets, stood my favourite friends in the whole school. I didn’t want to make them angry!
In my mind I thought about my plan, and about how I always dropped the ball and made mistakes. I knew I could help them by sitting out.
But when I spoke, all that came out was a stammer. ‘I’m just … you see … I …’
Becky held my hand. ‘Come and play, Alex,’ she said kindly.
‘Yeah,’ said everyone behind her.
I fiddled with the lock, feeling silly and shy. ‘But I’ll just drop the ball and make you lose.’
That was the truth, afte
r all.
Angie rolled her eyes. ‘Alex, we NEED you!’
‘No you don’t. You –’ I wanted to explain that they were better off without me. But I didn’t get the chance.
Everyone started talking at once. It was strange. No-one seemed angry about my bad ball skills. They all had good things to say about me.
Everyone seemed to think I did heaps of things to help the team – things that no-one else did.
When everyone had finished talking, I just stared at them, surprised.
‘Think about it,’ said Becky. ‘Who stopped Angie and Callum from fighting at the start?’
‘And whose idea was it to make us think of our basketball coach’s tactics?’ said Callum.
I started to smile.
‘And who thought of our name? And made the poster?’ asked Claire.
I giggled. ‘I’ve been busy, haven’t I?’
Then Mickey spoke up from the back. ‘Yeah, and you say those dumb jokes.’
I put my hands on my hips.‘No, I don’t!’ I smiled. ‘My jokes are clever and funny.’
Everyone groaned.
And suddenly, I knew exactly what I had to do.
I had to join the team again, and play in the grand final. We would be a bunch of friends playing netball together. The Dream Team again.
So that’s exactly what I did.
At first I felt scared of that nasty gremlin ball. I hadn’t played netball since I was hit in the nose. What if that happened again?
But I couldn’t worry for too long. I didn’t have time. Soon I was racing around, sticking to my player like glue.
We were playing against the best team, the one with the girls who played on a team outside of school. They kept grunting and growling at each other, as if playing the grand final made them angry.
Angie and Callum met them head on. When the other team played rough, they did too.
This was sport at its toughest.
Then, when I was in a gap, Angie threw me the ball. It was a gentle throw, too slow. Someone from the other team jumped up and snatched the ball in a flash.
Super Sporty Page 2