Golden Game

by David Starr

  “Great goal, Abbas,” said Coach T from the side of the field. Abbas had told Coach T the same thing he’d told the boys on the team. He had a feeling Ms. Bhullar might have said more to Coach T, but if she had, Coach T didn’t mention it.

  “Let’s practise some corner kicks,” said Coach T. “Our set plays need some work. William, Jun, Steven and Alvin on defence, Claude and Mo can take the kicks and the rest of you go on offence.”

  The Grandview Eagles hurried into position, smiles on their faces. The boys really liked working on set plays. They knew that many of the goals scored in soccer come from corner kicks and free kicks. Besides, kicks were fun to do.

  “Here it comes!” shouted Claude. Claude and Mo had the best kicking aim on the team, and in games they tended to take most of the kicks. With a solid thump, Claude’s foot connected with the ball. It flew high in the air, curving gently toward the goal.

  “Make the goal as small as possible. Stay out of Michael’s way and get the ball away from the net,” said Coach T.

  Twin brothers William and Alvin took their positions by the goal posts. Their job was to get the ball to Jun or Steven so they could boot it out of danger.

  “I got it!” shouted Abbas. He wasn’t the best at heading the ball. But all the great players scored goals with their heads, and it was something Abbas worked on whenever he could.

  As the ball neared, Abbas leaped into the air. His timing was off, and the ball glanced off the side of his head and out of play.

  “Nice try!” said Coach T. “You almost had it.”

  Mo placed a ball on the arc but before he could take the kick, a police car pulled into the parking lot.

  “Time out!” shouted Coach T. “Gather ’round boys, there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

  A police officer climbed out of the car. He was tall with short, grey hair and a long handlebar moustache. He was also wearing the fancy RCMP red dress uniform instead of the blue they usually wore.

  “I’d like you to meet my boss, Staff Sergeant Major John Buis,” said Coach T.

  “Now you look like a real cop,” said Steven, shaking the newcomer’s hand. “No offence, Coach T, but we’ve only seen you wear your red uniform at Remembrance Day. And even then, yours is a little . . . boring compared to his.”

  “Look at all the stripes and stars and the pistols and rifle badges. How come you don’t have any of those things, Coach?” asked Michael. “He looks like a general or something.”

  Coach T laughed. “Give me time, boys. Staff Sergeant Major Buis has been with the force for forty years.”

  “Your coach is right, lads,” explained Coach T’s boss. “I’ve been a Mountie for a very long time. I don’t wear Red Serge every day, by the way. I’m on my way back from a citizenship ceremony. Welcoming new Canadians is important to me.”

  He unlocked the trunk of the car. “School sports are important to me as well. I’m more of a basketball person, but I really admire your team for what you’ve done. So do the rest of the members of the Burnaby detachment. We have a gift for each of you as you get ready for the Top Flight Tournament.”

  The trunk of the police car was full of shoeboxes and plastic bags. Through the clear plastic, the boys could see green and gold soccer uniforms and warmup suits with the Grandview Eagles logo printed proudly on all of them.

  “You won’t just be representing your school in Toronto,” Staff Sergeant Major Buis said. “You will be representing Burnaby and indeed the whole province. You need to look professional. Deportment counts.”

  “Deportment? What does that mean?” asked Mo.

  “Deportment is how you look and how you carry yourself. It’s caring about your appearance and wearing your uniform proudly, whatever uniform that is.”

  “When we played Regent Park, Coach T told us it takes more than fancy clothes to be champions,” said Carlos, one of the defenders on the team. “Do you remember?”

  “Constable Whitebear was right when he told you that, young man.” Buis handed Carlos a warmup suit. “Champions have courage, commitment and heart. But since you already possess those qualities you now need new gear. I’ll not have a team coached by one of my members look shabby.”

  He handed out the gear to the excited players. “The fields you’ll be playing on in Toronto are turf, and your regular cleats just won’t cut it,” he said as he passed out the shoeboxes.

  “Thank you so much,” said Claude, speaking on behalf of the team. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

  “The members of the detachment were happy to help out,” said Buis. “Now get back onto the field and show me what you can do,” he ordered.

  8

  A Surprise Appointment

  “Where are we shopping first?” Abbas asked the next Saturday. He hoped it was the Persian bakery. He was hungry and Mr. Mohammedi made the most amazing walnut cookies.

  “Later,” said his mother. “Do you have your Compass Card?”

  Abbas checked his wallet. “Yes. Why?”

  “Because we’re going to Metro Mall for an hour or so first.” They reached the bus stop at the corner of Grandview and Humphries Street.

  “What are we going to do at the mall?” Abbas asked.

  “I need to get you some new socks. Half of them are full of holes.”

  “That seems a long way to go for a pair of socks,” said Abbas. But before his mom could reply the bus squeaked to a stop in front of them.

  “What else are we doing at Metro?” Abbas asked as the bus pulled into the Skytrain station five minutes later.

  “My friend Maryam says there is a new restaurant across the street from the mall,” Amira said. “It’s supposed to be very good. A family from Damascus runs it. We’ll go there for lunch if you like.”

  “Yes, please!” Dining out cost more than eating at home and wasn’t something they did often.

  “Train’s coming. Hurry,” said Amira.

  They stepped off the bus and hurried to the entrance of the station, just a few steps away. Amira and Abbas tapped in with their cards and ran to the platform as the train arrived. They got on, the doors closed and the train pulled out of the station. Metro Mall was only two stations down the line from Grandview. They would be there soon enough, and the thought of going out for lunch made Abbas smile. He didn’t much care about new socks, but lamb kebab and naan were something else.

  But instead of entering the main doors of the mall, Amira led Abbas to a large office building next door.

  “They sell socks here?” Abbas got a weird feeling as they entered the lobby of the building. “Mom, what’s going on?” he asked as they reached the elevator.

  “You have an appointment with somebody to help you with your fears,” Amira said as the elevator door closed behind them.

  “Mom!” Abbas was furious. His own mom had tricked him into going to some doctor. “I told you I’m not crazy! I don’t want to go! This is so . . .”

  “Enough!” Amira snapped in Arabic. She rarely raised her voice and the shock of it stopped Abbas mid-sentence.

  “You need to talk to somebody about this,” she said, more gently this time. “I’m worried about you and it is my job to get you the help you need.”

  The elevator stopped on the twenty-fifth floor. Amira led a sullen Abbas down the hallway to a door with a sign that said Haval Ahmed Counselling Services.

  “Really?” groaned Abbas as Amira opened the door. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly, “you do.”

  “You must be Abbas,” said a tall, thin Middle-Eastern man. He was in his early thirties and had a scraggly beard. “My name is Haval. Welcome. Come in and have a seat.”

  Haval led Abbas and Amira into a small office. They sat on a comfy leather couch while Haval sat across from them in a large chair. “Now, what can I do for you?”

&nb
sp; You can let me get out of here and go to SuperSports or Electro Video Games, thought Abbas.

  “Abbas is supposed to go to a soccer tournament in Toronto, but he has difficulty with planes,” Amira explained in Arabic. “His principal at school suggested we talk to you.”

  Ms. Bhullar! Abbas should have known she was involved with this somehow.

  “So you’re a soccer player, are you?” Haval asked, switching to Arabic. “I’m a big fan myself. I used to play in university. I was pretty good when I was young, if I do say so myself.”

  Abbas looked at Haval. He doubted very much this guy knew anything about soccer. “Yeah? What is your favourite team?”

  “Real Madrid. Who else? Thirty-two league championships, UEFA champions, Club World Cup Champions. They are the best.”

  Despite himself Abbas managed a small smile. “Who’s your favourite player?”

  “A lot of people choose Gareth Bale or Cristiano Ronaldo,” said Haval. “They’re pretty good. But I like Toni Kroos the most. Forwards get most of the glory but they need a midfielder like Kroos who can get them the ball. Kroos is hardworking and tough and nobody can pass better.”

  “That’s true.” Abbas and Dylan were the strikers on the Grandview team, but without Claude they wouldn’t score at all.

  “Your mom said you have to get to Toronto but you don’t like flying. Is that right?”

  “Did she say anything else?” Like I’m seeing things? Did my mom tell you I’m going crazy?

  “We’ll worry about that later. Let’s focus on the plane thing. Your mom’s booked five sessions. With a bit of luck and some work from you, I think you’ll be able to get on that flight.”

  ***

  “Fears, such as fear of flying, are greater if your anxiety level is high,” Haval explained. “From what your mom told me you have been feeling very anxious recently, so we are going to work on that. Does that sound okay?”

  “Sure,” Abbas said, not really meaning it.

  “You’re going to practise some breathing exercises and some guided meditation. It’s easy. There is a great video on YouTube you can use. It only takes about twenty minutes a day and it really does work.”

  The homework Haval game him sounded okay in Haval’s office. But when Abbas got home to his bedroom, he wasn’t so sure.

  He borrowed his mom’s phone, went online and found the video. He almost didn’t do it. Guided meditation meant listening to weird gentle music, the sound of waves and some guy with a soft voice telling him to breathe and relax. “Clear your mind. Listen to the sound of the waves on the beach. Focus on your breathing. Feel your chest rise and fall,” the voice said through Abbas’s earbuds.

  This is so stupid! What would the guys think?

  Not that Abbas would ever tell the other boys on the team. He’d be so embarrassed he would never be able to show his face at school again.

  But after about five minutes, Abbas started to relax. When the video ended he played it again. Halfway through the second time, Abbas fell asleep. That night he slept deeply, with no bad dreams for the first time in more than a week.

  9

  The Bulldogs Lend a Hand

  “We’re going to change up our practice location,” said Coach T the next Monday. The team had been confused when they arrived at practice and were told to follow their coach away from the field. “I told you to bring those fancy new shoes to practice today for a reason. The ball bounces differently on turf and you’re going to have to get used to that. I talked to the principal of Burnaby Creek Secondary. We’re using their turf field today.”

  “That’s great!” said Claude. Burnaby Creek was the high school most of the kids from Grandview went on to attend and it had one of the best soccer programs in the school district.

  “There it is,” said Junior as the tall lights that stood over the Burnaby Creek soccer field came into view.

  “I thought you said we had practice,” Carlos said. “There’s a team already on the field.”

  “I have another surprise,” said Coach T. “You’ve done a great job practising. But nothing beats games for training. So I organized a match between you and the Bulldogs, Burnaby Creek’s grade eight boys team.”

  “Some of these guys are huge,” said Alvin. He looked worried.

  “It’s not just turf you need to get used to,” said Coach T. “You need to practise against older and bigger players to have a chance at Top Flight. Some of the guys you will play against in Toronto are already in high school. And high school starts with grade nine in Ontario.”

  “Are you sure this is the grade eight team?” asked Dylan. “They look bigger than that.”

  “They’re grade eight,” said Claude. He waved at a boy juggling a ball on his foot. “I recognize some of them. Hey, Martin!” He waved and a boy waved back and jogged over.

  “Ready to get schooled, Claude?” Martin asked.

  The rest of the Bulldogs came over to say hello. They all were glad to see Coach T, judging by the handshakes and high-fives.

  The Burnaby Creek team was a lot like Grandview, seeming to have come from all over the world. But they were bigger — much bigger, especially a tall boy named Majok.

  “He looks like a tree. A big tree,” said Dylan.

  “Majok’s the goalkeeper,” laughed Claude. “Not a lot of balls get past him. If you can score on him you can score on anyone.”

  “Okay, boys,” said Coach T, “we didn’t walk all the way to Burnaby Creek just to say hello. Put on your turf shoes and warm up. We have a game to play!”

  The team pulled off their warmup gear, put on their new shoes and huddled around Coach T.

  “I have a feeling we’re not going to win this game,” said Claude.

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re not keeping score,” said Coach T. “This isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about getting ready to play bigger, faster teams on turf. But I still want you to —”

  “Play hard, play safe and play fair!” the boys chanted as one. “Let’s go, Eagles!”

  Grandview kicked off the game. Dylan passed the ball back to Claude as he and Abbas ran up the sides of the field toward the Bulldogs goal.

  Claude was an excellent passer. If he got the ball forward to Dylan or Abbas, one of them usually scored.

  “Abbas!” shouted Claude, kicking the ball high into the air. Abbas moved toward the ball to take it on the bounce. But once it hit the turf the ball bounced higher than Abbas was expecting.

  Out of nowhere a tall, blond Bulldogs defender streaked in. He picked up the ball and in three strides was ten metres away. With a low, fast pass he sent the ball up to Martin, who ran like the wind, deking between Alvin and William. The Grandview players looked like they were standing still.

  From near the penalty spot, Martin took a sharp kick. The ball sliced through the air and slammed into the back of the net.

  “Nice try, Michael,” Coach T called to the Eagles goalkeeper. “Nothing you could have done! Now let’s get that one back, Eagles!”

  “Lesson one,” said Shane, the defender who’d taken the ball from Abbas. “The ball bounces higher on turf. Give yourself more space.”

  The Eagles started playing more carefully. Instead of booting the ball up to strikers Dylan or Abbas, midfielder Claude made a short pass to Mo, who kicked the ball up to Dylan.

  Dylan was fast. There were two Bulldogs defenders between him and the net. Dylan saw the gap between them and rushed toward the empty space.

  Abbas had seen Dylan split defenders more times than he could remember. He ran to get in front of the net. Dylan would get past these defenders and lob the ball toward Abbas. Abbas would beat the last man back and score.

  But the two Bulldogs defenders seemed to have read Dylan’s mind. A wiry Iranian boy Claude had called Omid cut off Dylan, and with a beautiful slide tackle stripped him
of the ball. Omid scrambled back to his feet and passed the ball down the field toward the Bulldogs midfielders.

  “Nice try,” Omid said as play continued, “but your eyes showed me exactly what you were planning to do. Don’t give away your play.”

  Twenty minutes and several Bulldogs goals later, Coach T blew the whistle at the half. The Grandview Eagles walked off the field and threw themselves down on the sideline. They slurped thirstily from their water bottles.

  “I feel like I just ran a marathon,” wheezed Carlos.

  “Have a drink and a quick rest,” said Coach T. “Because if this is a marathon it’s only half over!”

  ***

  The second half started just like the first. The Bulldogs were bigger, stronger and faster than the Eagles. Soon they had scored two more goals. The first was an amazing strike by a big midfielder named Garrett.

  The other goal was less impressive. Martin crossed in the ball from near the sidelines. It bounced on the ground in front of Michael, who jumped up to catch it. But, still getting used to the new shoes and the turf, Michael slipped and missed. The ball rolled past him into the net.

  Abbas groaned. He hated to lose, even a scrimmage against the high school kids. Coach T said no one was keeping score but it bugged him that the Eagles couldn’t even get one lousy goal.

  Junior kicked off, sending it back to Alvin. As the Bulldogs strikers ran at him he passed the ball back to Alvin, who sent it smartly up to Claude.

  “Coming to you, Dylan,” Claude said. Dylan was tired, but he sprinted past a surprised Bulldogs midfielder, and was soon open on the left wing.

  The ball flew through the air, landing just in front of Dylan. It was a perfect pass from Claude. Dylan guessed where the ball would land, picked it up on his left foot and hurried downfield.

  Three Bulldogs defenders chased him into the corner. One of them moved in to tackle Dylan. Dylan tried to deke around him, and almost got clear. But just as he was about to send the ball to Abbas, a Bulldog foot came out of nowhere and knocked the ball out of bounds.