Tournament Fugee

by Dirk Mclean

  “They’re predicting a snowstorm at the end of the week. How about taking out the toboggans next weekend?”

  Victor knew it was going to be a busy weekend. “I’ll let you know.”

  “I will take that as a maybe,” Ozzie said. “Have fun tomorrow.”

  “You, too,” Victor said, clicking off.

  * * *

  The third Monday of February was a holiday in the province of Ontario, called Family Day. It marked the first long weekend in the year. It sent the message, Winter is almost over. Hang in there. You’ll make it to the end. Spring is coming!

  On the holiday Monday, Victor woke and performed ablution and salat as usual. Then he slept again until eight, when a sound woke him.

  Dad seemed to be in good spirits. He was singing a Syrian love song in harmony with Mom. Yep, Syria’s Got Talent was live in the Bayazid residence. The voting starts — now.

  Victor smiled to himself. After two and a half years in Canada, Dad was still working as an accounting assistant, even though he had been an experienced accountant in Syria. Mom volunteered at a local daycare, and also worked three mornings a week as a dental hygienist to help out with the finances. Victor was aware of Dad’s frustration with not being the sole financial provider of the family. So it was good to hear Dad being happy.

  There was no snow in the overcast sky when Dad parked the family Toyota. He led them into the vast Scarborough Town Centre and toward the new food court. Dad treated them to a lunch of lentil soup, falafels and juice. The regular stores were closed, leaving them to window shop, lost in silent desires and wishes.

  Dad had been given a family movie pass to the Cineplex. Mom chose a comedy she had heard about. As the previews ran, Mom shared baggies of almonds, dried apricots and figs.

  The movie started. Even though Victor laughed along with his family and a theatre filled with strangers, his mind kept flashing on Grampa. The fourth anniversary of his death was one week away. Mom and Dad had not spoken about it, but he knew it must also be on their minds.

  Will it come and go quickly? he wondered.

  5

  Setting the Past Straight

  Victor was the first student out the school doors when the buzzer sounded. His first bus was Neilson. At Sheppard, he transferred to his second bus. The extra-long TTC bus took him east, past Morningside, to Sheppard Soccer Complex.

  At the main door, he saw Coach Jeong-Hough entering with two empty cardboard boxes. “Hello, Victor,” she said.

  “Hi, Coach,” he replied. It was the first time they had spoken since his release from the team.

  “I know that you’re rushing to practice,” she said.

  How did she know? Oh, yes, some adults know everything.

  “Walk with me for a minute,” she said. “I meant to call you last night.” They walked past the weight room and the snack bar. “But I’ve been busy wrapping up the season and clearing out my office. Actually, this is better, face to face.”

  Or profile to profile, he thought. What can she have to say to me?

  “I want to apologize to you, Victor. I should have trusted you. You have always been dependable. I should have listened to you.”

  “Okay —”

  “Yesterday, I was told that Randy Harris from the North York Engineers tripped the goalkeeper during a playoff match on Sunday. It was caught on a parent’s phone camera.” They entered her near-empty office. “I’m so sorry, Victor. Please forgive me.”

  “Sure,” he said shrugging. “You didn’t see it.” In his mind, he thought of that month’s school character trait that Principal Arsenault had announced. Truthfulness. Wow, it did work, he thought, relieved.

  “Randy Harris is out of the league. If you want to come back next season, I’ll hold a spot for you. Let me know. And I’ll send an official apology in writing to your parents.”

  “Okay, Coach.”

  “And also let them know that Coach Bridge is a man of his word. He did not try to steal you away from our team. Good luck with the tournament,” she said, holding out her hand for Victor to shake. “And, Victor, if you need any help with anything at all, just ask.”

  * * *

  By Saturday’s practice the news had spread through the soccer community. Everyone knew Victor’s goal was not his fault. Everyone knew he had reason to walk out.

  “You’re still a quitter in my books,” Raja said as he passed Victor in the change room.

  Once again, Victor ignored him.

  The main drill that afternoon involved dribbling and passing. Each player was holding a ball and they were spread out across the whole field.

  Coach Bridge blew his whistle to get their attention. “First you will dribble your ball moving around. Aim to cover the field. You must touch the ball two hundred times using all parts of your feet.”

  He blew his whistle and they started. Some boys started to laugh as they lost control of the ball and lost count.

  “Keep going. No touching of the ball with your hands even if it goes out of bounds. Focus,” Coach Bridge shouted.

  When they were bent over, panting, Coach Bridge blew his whistle again. “Take slow, deep breaths,” he advised. “This time after ten touches you will look for a teammate, call his name and pass your ball to him. And he will pass his ball to you. Keep going. Avoid having the balls strike each other. It does not matter who you pass the ball to. Aim to have an exchange with everyone on the field.”

  In this drill, Victor managed to pass to every player. He even passed to Raja, who seemed to be enjoying himself.

  After the break Coach Bridge announced a thirty-five minute straight six-on-seven match. He and Victor had worked out the teams beforehand.

  “Time to see how well you’ve been learning from the drills,” Coach Bridge said, as he passed the list to Victor.

  “Team One,” Victor announced. “Six players. Me in goal and captain. Forwards are Habib and Nabil. Midfielders are Dani and Malik. Bassel on defence.”

  The players he called moved behind him. He continued, “Team Two. Raja as goalkeeper and captain. Forwards are Muta and Anwar. Midfielders, Malik, Firas and Hayyan. Johnny on defence.”

  Victor had decided to put one of the subs, Bassel and Joram, on each team to avoid complaints from Raja. Victor gave himself fewer players. No one could accuse him of taking advantage.

  Each team huddled to discuss strategy. Two minutes later Raja won the coin toss. Coach Bridge, as ref, blew the whistle. Muta kicked off to Anwar. And they were off.

  At the scoreless halfway mark, Coach Bridge called out, “Two minute break.”

  All the players grabbed bottles of water. The teams sat huddled together.

  “Guys, you’re playing well defensively,” Victor started. “Time to take it to them.”

  “But we’re outnumbered,” Habib protested.

  “That’s all right. Just play full out. See what happens. This is an exercise. You’re not playing for a cup,” Victor said.

  Then he recalled playing six-on-seven with his team, Victor United. I was their captain. I have been a leader before. This new captain’s role is a chance to do it again. Only this time the stakes are much higher.

  Victor’s strategy worked at first. Joram scored quickly, assisted by Habib. Then Raja’s team came back like a boomerang. Forward Muta scored on Victor, and then midfielder Malik did. In the end, Raja’s team celebrated a 2–1 victory. Victor was not disappointed. Raja was the one who needed the boost in confidence.

  “That’s how you captain a team,” Raja said so only Victor could hear.

  There was no time for Victor to respond. Coach Bridge brought the entire team in a wide circle, where they sat exhausted.

  “Congratulations, Team Raja. This exercise was not to see who would win. It was to see how well you play together, especially having fewer teammates on each line. You all did
well. Passed the ball. Dribbled with control.”

  “We had a lot of field to cover,” midfielder Dani spoke up.

  “Yes, but you all played full out. That was good. It conditions you. Well done, players.”

  He dismissed them and gave Victor a thumbs-up sign.

  The next day Coach Bridge called another six-on-seven match. This time they played two thirty-five minute halves, so they’d be playing twice as long. He switched team captains so that Victor could work with the other players. Victor could see how he was shaping up as a solo captain.

  A storm had brought lots of soft snow. Victor planned to meet Ozzie after practice at Neilson Park, and Gabriel had begged to come along. Victor was not sure. Gabriel was just over another cold. In the end, Victor decided to take his brother with him.

  Victor, Gabriel and Ozzie enjoyed tobogganing down a mound of snow. They bounced and flew through the air on magical plastic carpets the same size as Victor’s prayer rug. Victor didn’t often get to have that kind of fun outdoors. What pleased him most was seeing the expression of pure joy on Gabriel’s face.

  “He’s like a child, Ozzie,” said Victor.

  “He is a child, Victor. What, you think you’re grown up all of a sudden?”

  “We are growing up. I’ve been feeling it. Soon we’ll graduate and be in high school.”

  “I hear you,” Ozzie said. He packed some snow into his glove to form a snowball. “You know what? We’re not there yet.” And he pitched the snowball square onto Victor’s forehead.

  The snowball fight that followed proved Ozzie’s words.

  Victor made hot chocolate when he and Gabriel got home. Their parents were out visiting friends in the building. Gabriel read some of Victor’s older comic books in their bedroom. Victor caught a glimpse of the setting sun from their tenth-floor living-room window. He picked up a sketch he had been working on to add another image. The only sound in the room was his charcoal pencil scratching the rough surface of the 9-inch by 12-inch paper. It began to blend in with another sound that seemed to come from far away.

  A beat-up soccer ball rolls along a dusty patch of earth. Victor, Mom, Dad, Gabriel and Grampa walk along a highway. Thousands have fled their homes all over the country to save their lives. Loved ones and neighbours have disappeared or been killed, including lots of children. Cities continue to be bombed and taken over by troops. The Bayazid family pauses along the highway to rest and eat a few mouthfuls of food. Grampa is repeating his mantra that family is the most important thing. Gabriel kicks the ball to Victor. Without trapping it to control it, Victor kicks it and it rolls onto the highway —

  The sound of Mom and Dad coming in the door brought Victor back to the present. He hid the sketch, putting it away to finish after supper.

  6

  Reaching Out

  The next morning Victor presented the completed sketch to Mom and Dad at breakfast. It was the third anniversary of Grampa’s death. The picture showed the sun setting behind a mountain range. In the front, stood Grampa. His face showed a mixture of fear and confusion. He was holding a beat-up, dusty soccer ball.

  “I’ll buy a frame for it, Victor,” Mom said, breaking the silence. She was near tears.

  “Son, let the past be the past,” Dad said flatly.

  Victor found that hard to do. He knew that Dad blamed him for Grampa’s death.

  “Victor, your drawings are really good,” Gabriel beamed. “You should make a graphic book.”

  When Gabriel started to cough, Victor thought nothing of it.

  * * *

  At Tuesday’s practice Victor arrived early, as usual. He and some of the other Gazelles jogged around the field and began stretching to warm up. The others would begin on time by four-thirty. Coach Bridge was not strict about the weekdays because he knew that snow, icy roads and slower traffic could cause delays. Also, only Victor, midfielder Dani and sub Bassel lived in Scarborough. The others came from across the other parts of the GTA.

  In nine days they would leave for Vancouver. But Victor still did not feel like they were a solid team. In the first half of practice they worked in separate groups: forwards, midfielders defenders. The subs helped Victor with goalkeeper exercises. But they all seemed to be just going through the motions. There was no spark, no fire.

  “Maybe they’re tired,” Victor said to Coach Bridge at the break. “We all have school assignments due before March Break.”

  “You might have a point there,” Coach Bridge said. “The weekend was quite intense.”

  “I have an idea,” Victor offered.

  “I’m listening.”

  “The team could be ready for a real match.”

  “Who would we play against?” Coach Bridge asked.

  “Toronto FC,” Victor said. Then he chuckled. “I’m kidding, Coach. An Under-14 team. If I can arrange it, would you agree to next Saturday afternoon?”

  “Yes. It might be the focus everyone needs.”

  “I’ll let you know what I find out by tomorrow.”

  They agreed not to say anything to the team until it was confirmed.

  When Victor got home Dad waved an envelope in the air.

  “That Coach Jeong-Huffy . . .”

  “Hough,” Victor corrected Dad.

  “Hough,” Dad pronounced correctly. “She has honour. She put her apology in writing. I’m impressed.” He showed Victor the letter.

  It was excellent timing. Victor phoned Coach Jeong-Hough. After all, she had offered to help him.

  “It’s short notice, Victor,” Coach Jeong-Hough said once Victor had outlined his plan. “I’ll get back to you in a while.”

  In the meantime Victor phoned the one person who would need no convincing — Ozzie. About an hour later Coach Jeong-Hough got back to Victor. “You’re lucky. I have most of the Tigers on board. The others will let me know tomorrow. If they’re not free, I’ll get a couple of the Kingston Bluffers at school. Either way, it’s happening.”

  “Thanks, Coach.”

  “For you and Mr. Bridge? Anytime.”

  Victor phoned Coach Bridge with the news.

  “That was fast, Victor. Good job,” he said. “I’ll let everyone know. And I’ve decided to cancel Thursday’s practice. We’ll have the first part of Saturday’s training session to practice strategies.”

  Victor went to sleep that night with a smile on his face. It was all coming together. He was taking care of important duties as captain.

  By Wednesday morning Gabriel had a head cold. Victor was worried. He thought about how wet and cold they got in the snow. He remembered how tired Gabriel was when they got home. Did he make a mistake taking Gabriel out on the weekend?

  At school Principal Arsenault announced the character word for March: Forgiveness.

  Victor felt that Coach Bridge giving them Thursday as a practice-free day was good for the team. But he wanted to keep working on his skills. How would he feel if the team lost because he wasn’t prepared? How would the team feel?

  Victor talked with Mr. Greenidge, his coach from the match they had played in the fall. He agreed to let Victor use the school gym for twenty minutes before school on Thursday and Friday morning. Victor got Muhammad to take shots at him. Ozzie gave him goalkeeping pointers and corrected his movements and timing.

  By Saturday morning, Gabriel was feeling no better. Mom decided to take him to the health clinic at Malvern Town Centre. Gabriel was disappointed. He had been hoping to go with Dad to watch Victor play.

  “The cold is in his chest now,” Mom said. “I don’t want it to get worse.”

  Victor thought about forgiveness. Dad had not forgiven Victor for what happened to Grampa. Would Mom forgive him if he confessed he had let Gabriel get sick?

  Victor sat in Coach Bridge’s office to go over the schedule. They had the field from noon to three o’clock. The f
irst forty-five minutes they would work on team strategy. Then a fifteen-minute break. The Tigers would arrive by one o’clock to change and begin their warm-up. Kickoff at one-thirty. Coach Jeong-Hough had paid for a league referee and two lines-people.

  They would play two thirty-five-minute halves with a ten-minute break. Coach Bridge explained that this would be the time scheduled for each game at the tournament. Most Under-14 matches had two forty-five-minute halves. But since the players would be playing matches for a week, the shorter format would be easier on everyone.

  The Gazelles warmed up and started their session.

  “Guys, this is only going to be a rehearsal match,” Coach Bridge started. “I want you to take some risks. Make mistakes here instead of at the tournament. Find out where you need to improve. Be aware of where your teammates are on the field. Know what you need to do in your position.”

  Coach Bridge created strategies for the forwards Habib and Muta. Next were the midfielders: Dani, Hayyan, Firas and Malik. He worked out how forwards and midfielders would work together. Finally, he worked with defenders Raja, Johnny, Nabil and Anwar. The defenders, rather than playing across the field in a line, would be in a diamond formation. Johnny would be slightly ahead at the top point of the diamond in the role of sweeper. It would be his duty to sweep the ball away from the defence area. Nabil and Anwar would be just behind at the right and left sides of the field. The line at the bottom point of the diamond was the stopper — the fiercest and most dangerous of the defenders, Raja. The subs, Joram and Bassel, would play in the second half.

  If the ball got past the diamond of defenders, Victor was the only one left to fully protect the goal. The key was how well the defenders and the goalkeeper worked together. Would Raja follow Victor’s instructions?

  7

  Rehearsal Match

  The Gazelles took their break. Coach Jeong-Hough and some early-bird Tigers arrived and began to warm up. But things do not always go as planned, in life and in soccer.

  At 1:25 p.m. Coach Jeong-Hough approached Coach Bridge and Victor. “I’m still two players short. Everyone was confirmed. I’ve tried calling their parents, with no luck,” she said.