Golden Game

by David Starr

  “I cannot believe we are seeing each other again,” beamed Victor’s mom. “When we all fled Syria I never thought our families would meet again!”

  “And to be in a country like Canada,” said Victor’s dad. “It is remarkable.”

  Abbas thought so too. As Victor and his parents talked they brought back memories of things Abbas had long forgotten. He recalled places they’d visited, old friends of good times.

  The food was even better than Victor’s dad had promised. Plates of naan, tabbouleh, kebab and kibbeh appeared before them. Victor, Gabriel and Abbas drank water while Victor’s mom and dad enjoyed cups of strong Syrian coffee with the restaurant owner. It turned out he knew one of Abbas’s uncles back home. It was a very small world.

  It was a magical evening full of good memories, laughs and stories. It ended far too soon.

  “Look at the time!” said Victor’s mom. “We have kept Abbas out too long. His coach will be getting worried. Besides, both of you boys have important games tomorrow.”

  Victor’s dad paid the bill and sent Coach T a quick text. When they left the restaurant it was dark, and the night was getting cool. “Thank you so much,” Abbas said. “It was a great night! I hope you all can come and see my mom in Burnaby someday. She talks about you all the time.”

  “We would love that, too,” Victor’s dad replied as they reached the front door of the Chestnut Residence. Abbas saw Coach T waiting outside for him, a smile on the coach’s face.

  “Thank you for letting Abbas go with us,” said Victor’s dad, giving Coach T a plastic bag full of lamb kebab and naan. “Second best kebab in town, as promised.”

  “You didn’t have to do this but thank you,” Coach T said. “It smells delicious. How was Abbas, by the way?”

  “He is a very good boy,” Victor’s mom said, hugging Abbas again, to his embarrassment.

  “You play Mississauga tomorrow, right?” Victor asked. “We play Richmond Hill. Our game starts half an hour before yours. I will try to catch the end of yours.”

  As they waved goodbye to the Bayazids, Coach T said to Abbas, “You had a good time I can tell.”

  “The best,” said Abbas. The only thing now that could make the trip any better would be meeting Victor’s team in the final. And being on the winning team this time.

  18

  The Mississauga Mustangs

  “How did Mississauga do yesterday?” asked Abbas. Their shuttle bus came to a stop at Jesse Ketchum School, an old brick building that looked much larger than Burnaby Creek Secondary.

  “They beat Milton FC in penalties,” Coach T said. “It was a tough game. We have to hope they’ll be tired.”

  The Mississauga Mustangs, in their light blue uniforms, were kicking the ball around. They didn’t seem tired. And they didn’t play tired when the game began ten minutes later.

  The Mustangs were big. But Grandview was full of confidence and it showed, even after an early scare when a Mississauga player sent a long shot on net that Michael easily handled. After that the Eagles settled down and dominated the play.

  “I’m open!” shouted Dylan a few plays later. Mo saw him flash down the wing and sent him the ball. Claude followed closely behind. Dylan faked right and back-passed the ball to Claude. He cheered as Claude dribbled past a defender and blasted the ball into the net. Five minutes in. Grandview: 1, Mississauga: 0.

  “Maybe they are tired,” said Steven, standing on the sideline. He was starting as a sub.

  “And down two of their best players,” replied Coach T. He pointed at two unhappy-looking Mississauga players sitting on the bench in their track suits, watching the game. “Their best striker sprained his ankle. The other one got a red card yesterday. He is suspended for this game.”

  As the game went on, Mississauga got frustrated. The few times they took the ball they ended up losing it to the quick feet of Jun, Abdul or Claude.

  Then a fight nearly broke out toward the end of the half. With the score still 1–0, Abbas took a pass from Claude and moved up the field. He was ten metres across centre when out of the corner of his eye he saw a blue flash.

  The next thing he knew, Abbas was lying on the turf, a sharp pain burning his calf.

  Tweet! went the ref’s whistle.

  “That was on purpose!” shouted Dylan. He ran over to Abbas and got into the face of Mississauga’s number 14 who had raked Abbas’s calf with his cleats. Number 14 was a short boy who reminded Dylan of Liam, the rat-faced kid from Regent Heights.

  “What are you going to do about it?” 14 sneered, stepping toward Dylan and shoving him in the chest.

  “Walk away,” said Claude. He wrapped his arms around Dylan and pulled him away before he could shove the player back.

  Tweet! The ref reached into his pocket, pulled out a red card and waved it.

  “No way!” 14 shouted. But even his coach saw how unsportsmanlike his player had been.

  “I’m sorry about that,” the coach said to Abbas, stepping onto the field to get number 14. “Lucas isn’t usually like that. It’s been a bad tournament for us so far.”

  Jun and William helped Abbas to his feet.

  “Are you okay?” the ref asked. “Do you need to be subbed off?”

  Abbas walked off the pain. “I’m fine. Let’s play.”

  Mississauga played hard. But down one goal and one more player, they were unable to stop the Eagles. Five minutes later Grandview had scored again on a point-blank blast from Abdul.

  Grandview: 2, Mississauga: 0.

  Abbas hobbled off the field when the half-time whistle blew.

  “Abbas, you’re sitting off the second half,” said Coach T. “Claude, move up to striker. Carlos, take midfield. Get warmed up.”

  “You bet,” Carlos said, taking off his track suit.

  “Coach! I’m fine,” Abbas protested.

  “We’re up two-nil against a tired team with ten players. If we can’t beat them without you then we are in trouble. Rest your leg. With a bit of luck we will be in the semi-finals tomorrow. We’ll need you more then.”

  Abbas didn’t like sitting out but he saw that Coach T was right. He limped to the bench. There he put on his track suit top and wrapped an icepack onto his bruised calf.

  Five minutes into the second half Steven scored. As a fullback, he didn’t score very much. But this time he placed a beautiful kick over the goalie’s head, much to the delight of the Eagles.

  From the bench Abbas saw a look on the Mustangs player’s face he recognized. Defeat. Shorthanded, down by three goals and with some of their best players on the bench, Mississauga was beaten and they knew it.

  Abbas had been there. His first game with the Eagles against Regent Heights last season. The Eagles on the field saw the same thing that Abbas did. Unlike Dylan’s old school they didn’t try take advantage of it.

  The Eagles took their feet off the gas. Although they could have easily scored three or four more goals they didn’t put the ball in the net again. The final whistle blew.

  Grandview: 3, Mississauga: 0.

  “I’m really sorry,” said number 14 to Abbas as they shook hands. “I was just upset at how we were playing.”

  “It’s okay,” Abbas told him. “I know how it feels.”

  “Good luck in the semi-finals,” the Mississauga coach told Coach T. “You guys have class. You could have run up the score but you didn’t. I appreciate that.”

  “Hey, Abbas!” a voice called out. Abbas turned to see Victor. “Way to go! You guys made the Western finals!”

  “I sat the last half of the game though,” Abbas said. He showed Victor his bruised calf. “Took a bad tackle. How did your team do?”

  Victor’s team had started their game at Varsity thirty minutes before the Eagles kicked off.

  “We won 2-1 against Richmond Hill. We are in the semis too. You ne
ver know, maybe we’ll meet in the final!”

  “What are you doing here?” Abbas asked.

  “I told my mom I wanted to hang out with you for a bit, if you want,” Victor said. “I’ll take the TTC back to Scarborough Centre later.”

  Coach T gave Abbas permission and he and Victor went to an ice cream shop on University Avenue. It was a warm day and the two friends enjoyed their cones and the sun on their faces.

  “This is pretty special isn’t it?” Victor said.

  “What is?” Abbas asked, between licks of his chocolate ice cream.

  “For us to be here in Canada, playing soccer after all the things that happened to us back home. We are very lucky.”

  “We are. I nearly didn’t make it,” Abbas confided.

  “What do you mean?” Victor asked.

  “To Toronto. It was having to fly, to get on a plane. It was so hard. When I was little there was a bombing back home, in the . . .”

  “Market.” Victor finished the sentence for him. “Right before your family left for Turkey. I remember my mom telling me.”

  “When I thought of getting on a plane all I could picture was the bomber flying over us. The noise, the flames, the crying. It’s still there. It always will be. But I learned to manage it.” Abbas paused before asking, “How often do you think of Syria?”

  “Every day. I still have family back there. My mom has a sister. We haven’t heard from her or her kids in weeks. My mom’s worried.”

  Abbas fell silent. He had uncles, aunts and cousins who had gone missing as well. They could be anywhere: Syria, Turkey, Jordan. They could even be . . .

  Abbas shivered. He didn’t like to think about the end of that sentence. “When do you think there will be peace?”

  Victor shrugged. “Soon, I hope, but the war has been going on for so long. It seems it will never end.”

  They talked about friends, about family and their old homes. It was hard for Abbas to talk about these things to anyone else, but with Victor the words came easily.

  Victor got it.

  Some of his friends like Claude had been refugees as well. But with Victor it was different. Abbas and Victor spoke the same language, had watched the same TV shows as kids, had lived in the same places.

  Victor’s phone beeped. “That’s my mom,” he said. “I have to get home. Come on, I’ll walk with you to St. Patrick subway station. It’s really close to Chestnut.”

  Abbas stood up and limped away from the patio.

  “How’s your leg feeling?” Victor asked.

  “It should be okay for tomorrow,” Abbas told him.

  “I hope so,” Victor grinned, “because if we do meet in the final I wouldn’t want you to use it as an excuse!”

  19

  Yorkdale FC

  Grandview and Yorkdale FC stepped off the pitch for half-time to a huge round of applause. Varsity Stadium was more than half-full. The three thousand fans reminded the Eagles again that Top Flight was a very big deal.

  “Well done!” beamed Coach T. “This is the best soccer I’ve ever seen you play!”

  The score was 0–0. Michael and the Yorkdale goalkeeper each had made several remarkable saves, and the pace of the first half had been fast and furious.

  Yorkdale had won Top Flight the year before and were fielding a strong team again. But some people in the stands were cheering for Grandview. The Eagles had won over many people with their great soccer. They were also special because of the great distance the team had travelled. And the story of how they won the Burnaby championship had been posted on the Top Flight website.

  “I feel like we’re playing against the Vancouver Whitecaps!” moaned Abdul, lying down on the turf.

  “Are you kidding? More like Barcelona!” said Claude, dropping to the ground next to him. The midfielders on both teams had been running almost non-stop since the game began.

  “Hang in there, boys,” Coach T said. “One goal is all it will take to win this game. I can’t believe how well you’ve done!”

  The Grandview Eagles from south Burnaby were in the semi-finals. They were just one goal away from winning the Western Division and playing Hall United in the championship the next afternoon.

  “Go Grandview!” Abbas heard Victor and the rest of his team cheer from the stands. The Eagles had watched Hall United win their semi-final 3–2 against the Don Valley All-Stars, right before they took the field at Varsity Stadium themselves.

  Tweet! The whistle blew to start the second half.

  Abbas took another long drink from his water bottle. He walked out onto the field beside Dylan and Claude. His calf was bruised and looked bad, and it had been stiff earlier. But now it felt okay.

  “They look as tired as we do,” said Claude. “That’s a good sign.” The black and red striped shirts of the Yorkdale players were stained with sweat.

  The second half was very defensive. Both teams were tired. All of them knew that one mistake could cost their team the game. The teams split possession equally, with most of the game played in the centre of the field.

  Claude and a Yorkdale striker were fighting for a loose ball.

  “Claude!” shouted Dylan suddenly.

  Claude came up with the ball and kicked it toward Dylan.

  With Abbas beside him, Dylan dribbled toward the Yorkdale goal. Three fullbacks rushed out to meet him, cutting off any hope of a good shot.

  Dylan tapped the ball toward Abbas. Abbas was just as far out as Dylan was. But at least Abbas had a clear shot. When Abbas was twenty yards from the goal a fullback sprinted toward him.

  Abbas knew that if the game had just started and if his leg wasn’t throbbing, he could have beat the fullback. Instead, Abbas leaned into the ball and kicked with all his strength. It was a low-percentage shot but it was the best he could do. The Yorkdale goalkeeper posi­tioned himself in the net and caught the ball squarely in front of his chest.

  Abbas’s kick was the best chance either team had for the rest of the half. For the first time since Top Flight began, Grandview ended regulation time tied.

  “Looks like it’s Golden Goal time,” said Coach T as the players huddled around him.

  “You up for being the hero again?” Coach T asked Dylan.

  “I don’t care who scores,” Dylan replied. “Just as long as they’re wearing gold and green, not black and red!”

  “Okay, guys,” said Claude. “Listen up. I have an idea.” He explained his plan in a quiet voice as his teammates leaned in.

  Grandview was lucky enough to win the toss to start extra time. Claude’s plan needed them to get control of the ball as soon as possible.

  “Now!” Claude shouted once Dylan passed him the ball.

  Usually teams played very cautiously to start extra time. Instead every Eagles player, except for three fullbacks, sprinted up the field. It caught Yorkdale by complete surprise. Claude looked for a target. He saw Junior rushing up the left side, with no Yorkdale players within fifteen metres of him. Claude expertly fed him the ball.

  Junior looked to the right. Dylan, Abbas, Mo and Abdul were rushing forward, chased by a handful of Yorkdale players.

  “Dylan!” shouted Junior. Dylan took the pass. He sent the ball to Mo, who was now at the top of the crease. There was only one Yorkdale fullback between Mo and the net.

  With a grunt Mo kicked, sending a terrific shot at the goal. It went high and to the right. The Yorkdale goalie jumped, stretching his hand out as far as he could. Abbas watched the whole thing in what seemed to be slow motion.

  The ball flew closer and closer to the goal line. The goalie flew closer and closer to the ball. A fingertip of the goalkeeper’s hand hit the ball. Instead of going in, the ball deflected up and over the net.

  Mo covered his face with his hands. The ball wasn’t just stopped. Mo had been robbed of a sure goal by the bes
t save they’d ever seen.

  Tweet! The ref pointed to the corner arc to the right of the goal.

  “Good thing we’ve been practising our corners,” Claude said. “Three minutes to go until penalty kicks. I don’t think any of us want to see what else this goalie can do in a shootout!”

  Claude took the kick. Dylan, Abbas, Mo and Abdul took their spots in front of the goal.

  Timing, watch your timing, Abbas told himself.

  The whistle blew. Claude kicked a high arcing pass across the face of the goal. The ball was too high for Dylan and Mo. It sailed over their heads and dropped toward Abbas to the left of the goal.

  Abbas was surrounded by a sea of red and black jerseys but he hardly noticed them. All his attention was on the ball, getting closer and closer.

  Eyes open. On the forehead.

  With the ball just a couple of metres away Abbas bent his knees, ignoring the pain in his bruised calf. With his eyes open he jumped higher than he’d ever jumped before. He met the ball with his forehead at the top of his leap.

  Abbas sent the ball down hard and to the left. There was a gap of half a metre between the goalie and the goal post. The Yorkdale goalkeeper lunged.

  The ball hit the turf right in front of the goal line. It bounced up and over the goalie’s foot. It crossed the line and rolled into the back netting. The crowd roared.

  Grandview: 1, Yorkdale: 0. The Eagles were off to the finals!

  20

  The Finals Begin

  Varsity Stadium was packed for the two championship games. The girls played first, with Kingston Road FC representing the Girls Eastern Division against the Western Division finalists Bloor United. The girls teams were marched in, their banners blowing proudly in front of them.

  “And please welcome the boys finalists!” announced Mathew Yang. He pointed to the stands where Hall United and Grandview were sitting next to each other.

  “In my wildest dreams I didn’t expect this,” said Victor. “I feel bad for you, though. You’re going to lose to me twice in less than two months!”