12 Yards Out

by Javi Reddy

  “So, you’re thinking that we can shift everything back onto my right side.”

  “Now we’re on the same wavelength.”

  “But what if we can’t?”

  “There are many gifted left-footed players out there. In fact, they’re more in demand because of their rarity in the football world.”

  James took a seat on one of the mahogany chairs opposite the couch.

  “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Go on.”

  “On my way here, I was thinking about the whole ‘falling’ notion you kept bringing up.”

  “It’s not a notion. It’s the truth. It’s probably why I’m here. My father always maintained that I was born this way. I don’t doubt that. But I could have done better. I could have made better decisions.” He was as cryptic as ever, which left James restlessly moving about in the chair.

  “Fine. But if we’re going to make all of this happen—help you get your right side back and make strides towards the truth—then, you’re going to have to fill me in properly. I need to understand the ‘falling’ as clearly as possible.”

  “James. At this stage, it’s your stride towards the truth. I’m not sure where I am in all of this. I can’t take any responsibility if your so-called quest fails. And I think, deep down, you know it’s going to.”

  James rubbed his upper lip with the tip of his finger as he listened to the boy. Jay approached the chair he was sitting on.

  “I know what you want. But how do you know what I want?” James looked deep into Jay’s eyes and did not answer.

  Jay dropped to the couch once more, before they both awkwardly stared at the floor.

  “There’s one thing I don’t agree with,” James told him.

  “What’s that?”

  “I do know what you want. How could you not want that? How could you not want her?”

  “We don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

  “And we don’t know that she’s not. So, trust me, it’s worth keeping this fight on. It’s worth finding this bastard De Silva and finding out for ourselves what the hell is going on.”

  Jay’s eyes were watery, and his lips trembled slightly.

  “Will you help me, Jay?”

  The boy sat up straight. It was his story-mode stance.

  “Okay. Let’s clear things up for you. I remember the first time I fell…”

  13 September 2004. Under the stands

  Jay sat underneath the stands on the playground of his primary school with Katie Clifford, the cute little blonde girl who always wore ribbons in her hair. He’d never kissed a girl before, but today that would all change. He hung out with her all the time and shared things with her that he dared not share with other girls. Things like Smarties and Ghost pops. And sometimes, when he felt like it, he would even turn down kicking a ball with his friends, just so he could sit next to her under the Jacaranda tree.

  Today, he would muster up all his courage and share much more than his sweets with her. The two sat underneath the school stands, which had a fermented scent to them. The rain from the previous night had heightened the smell this morning. His nerves were heightened too as he leant into Katie to make his move.

  At first, she gave a quizzical look through her baby-blue glasses as she saw his pouting lips that were slowly approaching hers. She soon relaxed and closed her eyes to await the kiss. He could feel his heart pounding as he became slightly dizzy. But this was not nerves, it was something else. Events, and life as a whole, would take a nasty turn for him that day. He fell for the first time. Terrified Katie watched the spasmodic jerks until Jay lay in a foetal position. He didn't blame her for screaming, after being exposed to something so terrifying at such a young age. After teaching staff had restored calm, he was attended to in the school’s ‘Sick Room’.

  When he returned to school a few days later, Katie made it her prime purpose to avoid him. Not many other kids wanted to hang around him either. Ghost pops didn’t taste the same and Smarties lost their colours. And that woody sports stand left splinters in his distraught mind. Everyone stared at him, without blinking or smiling to break the tension, whenever he walked into a classroom. His father promptly moved him to another school. After that, he fell regularly and a tough battle ensued. One that was all the more demanding for someone who had high hopes of being a football player. So, when high school loomed, he kept it from everyone and prayed that nothing like that would ever happen at school again.

  26 September 2013. 4:17 PM

  “Ooooooooookaaaaaaay,” James dragged out his words, trying to put everything together. “A traumatising childhood. Was it really that bad?”

  “Bad enough that I had to hide part of who I was.”

  “No one really belongs when they’re a mere lad.”

  “Yeah, but being looked at like that all the time, didn’t help.”

  “Kids are difficult. So, you were probably half expecting it anyway.”

  “Well, it didn’t matter. When high school came around, I knew I’d receive an even harsher reception if pupils found out about me. I had to hide. And it worked. People began to respect me because of what I did on the field and having no idea who I was off it. Football was my way out. As long as I shone there, it didn’t matter what other weaknesses I had.”

  “You were some player!” Jay lowered his head.

  “I meant are some player. Your journey’s not done yet.”

  “It’s ok. Better decisions, James. I could have made better decisions.”

  James nodded in acceptance, having made his own bed with remorse over the years and slept with the eternal yearning to do it all better. “Football was not just about the crowd cheering your name or people depending on you. It’s an escapism offered to those lucky enough to have a safehouse from the real world. But now the real world is here. I told you—the prettier the picture, the easier it is to break. One such occasion comes to mind…”

  15 August 2011. 8:57 PM

  “Pick one.”

  “Why?”

  “Why the heck not? Think about it, you can’t lose either way.”

  “Yes, because clearly one of them will be walking over to me any time now,” Jay said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes at Keith.

  Keith shook his head. “When will you ever learn to have some fun?”

  “In a few minutes,” Jay winked at him.

  “Well, I reckon Ryan’s ma is the one you marry—she’s got the whole housewife, sweetheart look. And Jake’s ma is the one you take in the bedroom. The things she will do to you my boy!” he said with animation.

  “Women and diski1— there’s no one else who can tell you about them, better than I can.”

  All Jay could do was frown. “You need help, you know that?”

  “You need my help, bru2. That’s why you’ve got me standing out here on a freezing.”

  “Monday, when I could be at home instead, enjoying my Aunt’s baked beans, mash and lamb chops.”

  “You really wanna go home now?”

  Keith’s silence meant that Jay knew him better than anyone else. They were the ultimate odd couple with the strongest of bonds. Heart and humour. Structure and spontaneity. All welded together.

  “So, what book are you reading now?” he asked Jay as he popped a piece of gum into his mouth.

  “Trainspotting. Irvine Welsh.”

  “That sounds kak3. What the hell is it about? People drawing freaking spots on a train?”

  Instead of lecturing his friend, Jay merely told him:

  “You should check out the movie—sex, drugs, fights, more drugs. You’d love it.”

  “You should stick to the girls like me. Put down the bookies and grab some boobies!”

  Jay just smiled. Sometimes that’s all best friends can do.

  “Ey, so where are these guys? I’ll be surprised if they come back. They must be skrik4 of catching a hiding for like the millionth time in a row.”

  “Trust me, they’ll be here,” Jay t
old him calmly. “Nothing else is going to mend their pride.”

  They puffed out steam into the icy Joburg night, like old copper brass kettles. They stood on a concrete surface with shoots of grass growing through it. This park was theirs. They were ready to do battle once more.

  Keith and Jay were both united in their ability to dance with the ball at their feet. Keith was really like his brother. Like Jay, he was an only child. Keith’s father had long passed away and he recently lost his mother to cancer. He’d been staying with his aunt ever since. Jay lost his mother when he was very young, which meant that he had no real memory of her. He and his father hadn’t been close in a while. Keith was an orphan. Jay felt like one. And so the cast for a brotherly bond assembled.

  “Check it out! Time to play ball!” Keith suddenly exclaimed.

  Seeing that it was the tenth meeting in a row between Keith and Jay and their opponents, it should have been routine now. But Keith still got that tingle in his stomach before any challenge. They’d won the previous ten, always reducing their opponents to shameful walks home. Keith licked his lips like a fox who was about to enter a henhouse. This was their night. No school, no adults, no worries. Just them and the ball, and nothing else for the next hour.

  “Aweh,5 gents. Same as always. First to ten wins. Two-clear, if it’s tied at nine a piece. But we know that you two ain’t gonna even come close to scoring nine,” Keith sniggered.

  “Let’s just play the damn game”, was all they could flush out between themselves. As always, satchel bags were used for goalposts. Only ten minutes had elapsed and the score was already 6-1 in favour of Jay and Keith. The two of them knocked the ball around like they were playing pinball. Keith continuously slotted in the coins and like the pinball machine’s flippers, Jay would blast the ball into the necessary target, every time.

  At 8-3, the game should really have been wrapped up, but they decided that they’d have some fun by toying with their opponents. The party tricks were soon on display as Jay and Keith danced around with the ball. Backyard football was such a fundamental part of growing up. Kids pitting themselves against anyone and everyone and doing whatever they could to land up on top. There were no real rules. If they never once came home with a grazed knee or a stubbed toe, they weren’t part of this world.

  Jay had wished there were more kids with them to join in with this age-old tradition, tonight. The joyless trees were the only spectators present during their performances. Yet, the solitude was why the boys came here. So, on with the show.

  “I really want those chops now, my boy. Let’s hurry up and finish this,” was Keith’s call.

  Jay gave off his boyish grin for he could sense something epic was on the cards. Keith beat his man with ease and then dug the ball out the ground with his back foot as the cross flew perfectly towards Jay. He couldn’t miss, especially after all of Keith’s trickery. But he didn’t want to end this move with anything but a touch of flamboyance. The child within him told him to go big and not to hold back. So, he rose for the kick that any player truly appreciates—the bicycle kick. But then it happened.

  That dreaded thing. He fell. He fell before he could even make contact with the ball. He hit the concrete hard. He looked anything but the young and athletic boy everyone knew. As the moon shone down on the horrifying sight, the game didn’t seem fun anymore. And more worryingly for Jay, it was a sign of things to come.

  26 September 2013. 5:22 PM

  “You’re always painting such a dark picture, but I still don’t have the faintest idea what you’re on about. You fell. How?”

  Jay ignored him and made his way to the cabinet and pulled out the tea bags.

  “Will you be joining me?”

  A cup of tea would calm the unease in the room. Before long, they held their fine china and let the warmth take over, before Jay continued.

  16 August 2011. 6:03 AM

  Through his room window, Jay took in the skies outside his Rosebank home. They bore a Sistine Chapel outlook. This morning, he could see why God put such beauty up there. It was, no doubt, a beautiful day outside. Inside felt far gloomier. He flopped back into bed, feeling inconsolable. Normally, the football posters on his red walls were his guardians, looking over him.

  Today, he felt their presence hard on him as if they were looking down on him. It wasn’t his fault, yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Everything seemed so hazy. He dozed for a little longer before his eyes opened fully again. Flashes of the park and Keith came back to him. Then they all disappeared without warning, as he caught sight of a shadowy figure leaning against the wall. His blurry vision slowly cleared up.

  “What were you doing out so late?” Preega’s tone had its usual stern sting to it.

  “I’m doing fine, thanks.”

  As Jay responded, he felt the sharp, cutting pain on both sides of his tongue, as if they’d been blowtorched.

  “Shit, not again”

  His father was quick to hound him.

  “Watch your language, boy! Or you’ll give me another reason to wring your neck!”

  Jay didn’t squirm away or bury himself underneath his blanket. He threw the sheets off in defiance.

  “Watch my mouth? How can I watch it when this happens? Typical you. Standing there, criticising. Of course, you know what it’s like. Of course, you can fully understand it all, without experiencing it yourself. You are that talented, aren’t you?”

  Worse words were churning inside him, begging to erupt. He was waiting for his father to raise his voice higher than his own. Instead, Preega lowered his head and left the room before another battle ensued. Guilt had licked his forehead with its salty tongue. What does being healthier than your kid mean to you?

  Jay regretted shouting at him, not because it was disrespectful, but because his tongue hurt more than ever, afterwards. He rinsed his mouth but still felt the raw and bitter taste of blood in his mouth. He needed to rest, yet it was something he could not do. His feet were so weak that it felt as though he were walking around with 100kg dumbbells strapped to them.

  He agonised over questions on a daily basis that haunted him. He was tired of being tired of it all. He thought about how week in and week out he was invited to a string of parties that summoned him into sprees of under-aged lust, liquor and brawls. Teenagers were never shy of pouring anything down their throats. Not him though. He never indulged in that stuff.

  He turned up for the parties because he needed to have fun, like any other kid. He just didn’t entertain the abuse of his body. He couldn’t afford to if he wanted to be the best at what he did. And yet in spite of this preservation, he knew that he would always be vulnerable. He grimaced at the cruel irony. The sourness of the injustice left a harsher taste in his mouth than the blood from his tongue. At least, football was all his own. His father couldn’t take it from him because it was not something he had inherited from Preega.

  Jay knew that his father had never approved of him playing the sport, but what bothered him the most was that he never really gave him a genuine reason as to why he felt that way.

  The blood still welled up in his mouth as he spat out into the pearl white bathroom sink. He lumbered through the passage. His body felt frail, but he pushed on from the bathroom and back to his bed. As he passed his father’s room, he caught a glimpse of Preega sitting on his bed, looking at the skies that had calmed Jay down earlier. He dared to venture in.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice back there,” Jay said, trying to evoke a response from the man. Preega continued to refrain from eye-contact.

  “Look, boy, I’m also sorry. Sorry, that you have to deal with all of this. It’s not been easy for me, as a father, to stand by helplessly and watch you like this. But you have to meet me halfway here. You have to learn to take better care of yourself. I know you don’t drink, so that’s fine. But you have to get more sleep, and more importantly, if you know what’s good for you, you should maybe take a break from football. Heading a ba
ll can’t be good for you.”

  Jay restrained himself, though it was a topic that was impossible to mitigate.

  “There’s nothing wrong with heading the ball, or anything else with football,” Jay said calmly. “I’m not shoving drugs into my body or drinking excessively. I’m keeping fit. Besides, I don’t even head the ball that much. I’m not an out-and-out striker.”

  “I don’t care what you think you are! I know one thing, you’re a bloody Indian! And you’re my son, so you’re going to stop thinking like a fool. Where is this stupid game going to take you in life? You think you’re going to become a professional player one day? Wake up, Jayendra! There are no Indians playing football for a living. What makes you think you’re going to change that? We are the academics of this world. The only sport you can make it in is cricket, but even then, it’s not like you’re going to play for the Proteas, anytime soon!”

  Preega’s own pent-up emotions had been released. Still, Jay would not back down. He couldn’t. “And so, what if I did play for my country? It’s not as though you’d support me or them. Why can’t you just be happy for me? Happy that I’m good at something. Is it so hard to get behind me for this? I have a chance now, an equal chance to be someone, and all you can do is turn your back on that. I know a part of you cares, I heard it in your words just now.”

  Jay put his hand on his father’s shoulder.

  “Let me have my chance.” Preega immediately moved his son’s hand away.

  “As long as you play this game, I cannot support you. I won’t be part of a fool’s dream. I cannot ban you from the game. It will only make you want to play even more. But at the same time, I cannot approve of your decision. You will never have my blessing. That is just the way it is.”

  Jay knew that they would always see things differently and neither of them would be happy if the other lied to keep the peace. Day by day, Jay’s dreams grew. His hunger to be part of a new South Africa and break the mould of thinking that his father had set in place sprouted higher and higher. Jay could not believe that he was any less Indian because he embraced being South African.