Jasper Zammit Soccer Legend 1
Page 2
His grandad had looked at him steadily for a few seconds before a smirk wrinkled its way onto his face. ‘There’ve been worse things.’
Jasper had smiled with relief.
‘But I think we might have to increase your training.’
Jasper and his grandad trained at home in their backyard. It stretched far down to the back fence, where there was his grandad’s flat and vegie garden on one side and a set of gum trees strung with Jasper’s hammock on the other.
Now his grandad was following through on his promise. After a solid bout of stretches, sit-ups, knee lifts and star jumps, his grandad positioned the ball for goal practice.
‘A good player should be able to score a goal from any angle on the field and with both feet.’ Ronaldinho stood beside the net, barking encouragement. ‘Being a two-footed player gives you many more playing options. So today we’re going to focus on your weaker foot.’
Jasper steadied himself and concentrated on the ball. Hoping he’d be as good as his grandad one day, he plugged a strong instep kick into the net.
Ronaldinho sped into action, retrieving the ball and rolling it back to Jasper with his nose, while his grandad gave him the rundown on the kick and placed the ball in a different part of the yard.
After that, they focused on tackling. His grandad had been famous for his fancy footwork when he was younger and Jasper did all he could to tackle the ball without touching him. ‘A good tackle doesn’t even come close to touching the opposing player,’ his grandad would say.
Finally, after an hour of training, Jasper collapsed on the ground in an exhausted heap, with Ronaldinho flopping down beside him.
‘You’ve got a lot of energy for an old man, Nannu,’ Jasper puffed.
‘Easy on the old man stuff,’ his grandad warned. ‘Now don’t just sit there, you’ve got warm-downs to do.’
Jasper hauled himself up and slowly bent into some stretches. When they were done, Nannu handed him his drink bottle and grunted with satisfaction. ‘Could be star material yet.’
Jasper took a swig before asking the question he wanted to know most of all. ‘Good enough to play for Australia?’
Nannu fixed him with a serious eye. ‘With soccer, anyone can be up there with the best.’
‘Even a complete unknown like me?’
His grandad scratched at his scrubby, bristled chin and smiled. ‘I’d say you’re in with a chance. As long as you watch those headers.’
He softly nudged the ball into his grandson’s stomach.
‘The team give you a hard time about it?’
‘A little. It was okay.’
‘You should think yourself lucky. If you’d been a Chinese soldier in the third century BC, you’d have been flogged.’
‘They played soccer then?’
Jasper’s grandad loved telling stories, but sometimes it was hard to tell if they really happened or if he made them up.
‘Sure did. To keep fit. Except the threat of the whip was a pretty big incentive to win,’ Nannu said with a wicked grin. ‘Come here, I want to show you something.’
Jasper and Ronaldinho followed him to his flat. It used to be the garage, which Jasper’s dad filled with lots of old hard drives and outdated monitors that were thrown out from the computer store he worked in. He thought they might come in handy one day, but Jasper’s mum just thought it shifted rubbish from where it should be to under her feet.
But about five years ago, Jasper’s nanna had died and all that had changed.
Jasper’s mum said Nannu hadn’t lived alone a day in his life and now that Nanna had gone, he’d need company and people who loved him living close by.
That wasn’t how his grandad saw it.
When she’d asked him to move in, he’d made a huge fuss, stamping his feet and throwing his hands in the air, saying he could look after himself. But Jasper noticed that when he had stopped yelling, he had them all round his place within an hour lifting bags that looked like they’d been packed for days.
So the garage was cleaned out and renovated and it stopped being Dad’s junk-room and became Nannu’s new home.
To anyone else, it might have looked like a simple home because it was small and had hardly any furniture, but to Jasper, it was one of his favourite places in the world. The walls were covered in soccer medals, pendants and signed posters of soccer legends from around the world. Some were so old they’d faded, but Nannu could tell the story behind every one of them as if it had happened yesterday.
The only other photos and trophies were of Nannu and Nanna at the National Dancing Championships. They had won almost every year they entered. Jasper’s mum used to say they danced so perfectly, it was like they could read each other’s mind.
There was also a cupboard full of albums and boxes of photos, and above the bed was a long shelf full of just as many more.
His grandad took one album down, sat on the bed and thumped the blankets beside him.
‘Sit down.’
Jasper sank into the soft squeaky bed. Ronaldinho jumped onto his lap as Nannu opened the album. His weathered hands flicked through pages of photos of soccer camps, of his grandad scoring winning goals and teams posing with victory smiles and gold, ribboned trophies.
He stopped on a page with a small guy doing a perfect follow-through after a goal, his leg lifted high in the air.
‘See this guy? Romario. One of Brazil’s greatest. He grew up in a poor suburb outside the city of Rio De Janeiro in Brazil. Couldn’t afford to go to school and barely managed to eat enough to get through each day. He wasn’t a sad kid, though, because he had the one thing that meant everything to him. Soccer. Now he flies his helicopter from his house into the city because the traffic is so bad. He’s gone from a kid in the slums to someone who uses his helicopter as a taxi!’
‘But how did he get to play for Brazil?’
‘Like a lot of other kids, he used to play in this potholed field near where he lived. Scouts often went there knowing they’d sometimes find great players. This one scout saw him play and signed him up there and then.’
‘Just like that?’
‘It only took the scout a few minutes to know this kid would play for his country.’
The flyscreen wheezed open and Jasper’s mum poked her head inside the flat. ‘Okay sports fans, game over. I need your star player to set the table.’
‘Yes, boss.’ Nannu’s face filled with a playful grin. He knew she hated being called ‘boss’.
Jasper’s mum gave a half scowl and left.
‘We better get in there quick or we’re in trouble.’ Nannu carefully put the album away and they hurried to the house.
When they stepped into the kitchen, Jasper noticed something wasn’t right.
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Working late.’ His mum paused. ‘Again.’
Ronaldinho let loose a small whine. Jasper’s dad had been working late for the last two weeks and, by the way his mum had spoken, she wasn’t happy about it. It wasn’t his dad’s fault, it was his new boss who insisted on making him work late.
Jasper felt weird seeing his mum get dinner ready by herself. Ever since he was a little kid, his mum and dad had always done it together. They would put music on, and in between chopping vegies and talking over the top of each other, his dad would do these really bad dance moves. At some point, Jasper’s dad would pull his mum into an overdramatic hug and say something like, ‘I love this woman. She’s beautiful, intelligent and my best friend in the whole world. Aren’t I lucky?’
His mum would giggle and they’d kiss in this extra sloppy, not-meant-for-other-humans-to-see kind of way.
Jasper and Nannu would roll their eyes, look away and let the two of them get on with being soppy. Even Ronaldinho would cover his eyes with his paws until they were done.
But now things were different, and it wasn’t until they were halfway through their apple crumble and custard that his dad finally came home.
JOHNNY SAYS:
‘This has to be one of the most intense situations in international soccer I have ever seen.’
‘Yes, Richy, with millions all over the world watching, the pressure out on that field is enormous.’
‘And with so much at stake, Higsy, it’s not hard to understand why.’
‘You’re right there, Richy. Australia and Brazil are level at two-all and we’re just seconds away from the final player taking their turn in the penalty shootout.’
‘And Higsy, who better to take that shot for Australia than young Jasper Zammit?’
‘They must be breathing a sigh of relief to have their star striker out there. He has the safest feet in the business.’
‘You’re spot on, Higsy, and if Zammit can weave even a little of his magic, he will not only catapult himself to glory, but Australia as well.’
‘Yes, Richy. A tremendous moment, but even as good as he is, it’s crucial that Zammit stays relaxed and focused.’
‘Yes, many soccer greats in the past have buckled under pressure in situations exactly like this.’
‘Jasper is in position, he’s lining up the shot.’
‘The tension is incredible, Higsy. The crowd has gone completely silent.’
‘He runs to the ball. He aims, he kicks … and he’s blasted the ball straight past the goalie’s fingers and into the corner of the net! It’s a goal! Australia have won the World Cup!’
‘What a stupendous moment! What a magnificent goal! Jasper Zammit has changed the history books forever. With his courage, his power and his skill …’
‘Green drink bottle or blue?’
Jasper’s eyes shot open.
His dream of playing in the World Cup quickly disappeared and was replaced by the sight of his mum holding out two drink bottles while he swung in his hammock.
‘Green, thanks,’ Jasper mumbled as he came to terms with not winning the World Cup.
‘Green it is,’ his mum sang. ‘We better get you to training before you’re late.’
Like Nannu’s flat, the hammock was another of Jasper’s all-time favourite places. As soon as he clambered inside, usually with Ronaldinho, he felt like he’d climbed into a cocoon. One where he could daydream, think and fall asleep to thoughts of great soccer moments.
But there wasn’t time to be thinking about any of those now. Jasper gently tipped Ronaldinho out onto the ground, before giving him a goodbye ruffle and then getting ready in lightning speed.
When he arrived at training, he raced to the centre of the field, where Coach Wallace had just started the session.
‘Ah, good, we don’t have to train without you after all, Zammit.’
‘No, Coach.’ Jasper looked down guiltily. Being on time wasn’t one of his strong points.
‘I’m grateful for small mercies,’ the coach said. ‘Now that we can start, I’d like you all to meet Liliana, the newest member of the Rovers. Liliana’s new to the area and we’re lucky that she chose our team to be a part of. I know you’ll all do your best to make her feel welcome.’
Then, in usual Coach Wallace style, he got down to business. ‘That’s enough of the socialising. Let’s warm up.’
Tricky instantly moved beside Liliana and offered his most charming hello. Tricky was the quick-footed one on the team and could perform tricks with his feet that looked like magic. Jasper’s dad said he was tricky with the girls too. If there was one standing within ten metres of him, he’d have eyed her off and worked out what his opening line was going to be within five seconds flat.
Jasper and the others exchanged knowing looks and waited to see the new player fall under Tricky’s spell.
Liliana smiled and returned the hello, then leant straight into the coach’s stretching exercises. The others laughed quietly, especially Josie, who loved seeing Tricky’s oversized ego deflated. Tricky, however, did his best to not look fazed.
It soon became obvious that not only was Liliana uninterested in Tricky’s efforts, but she wasn’t like the others on the team. Usually training was serious and quiet, but Liliana was really loud and got excited at little things, like when someone made a great tackle or performed an expert header. She’d yell and jump up and down as if it was the greatest play she’d ever seen.
Jasper could tell Coach Wallace wasn’t used to having such a loud player, but the moment she touched the ball, no one had any complaints. It was as if she’d been playing all her life and there was nothing more natural than that ball being at her feet. She was sure-footed, quick, and loved every second of it.
The team were divided into pairs to practise passing. Tricky quickly stood beside Liliana but she was partnered with Mugger.
‘Hi.’ She smiled. ‘My name’s Lil. Liliana actually, but I prefer Lil.’
Mugger said nothing. He took the ball, arranged two shirts close together on the ground and headed out to a spot about five metres from Lil. He lined the ball up and kicked it right between the shirts without touching either of them.
Lil cushioned the ball with her foot. ‘Excellent!’ she cried, but Mugger just stared back at her with a face that looked like it was modelled out of pure gloom. Lil took the hint, quietly lined the ball up and kicked it back to him.
Coach Wallace then moved them onto their next exercise, which was shielding, or controlling the ball while using their body as a shield against an attacking player. Lil was teamed with Jasper.
‘Hi. I’m Lil.’
‘Hi. My name’s Jasper. Welcome to the team.’ Jasper let loose a big smile, much to Lil’s relief.
‘Thanks, but I think I might have done something to upset him.’
She pointed at Mugger, who still looked very serious.
‘Mugger?’
‘Yeah. He didn’t smile once.’ Lil dropped the ball at her feet and started dribbling.
‘That’s just Mugger. He never smiles.’ Jasper followed her moves, looking for an opportunity to tackle.
‘Never?’ Lil quickly turned her back to Jasper.
‘Not so far. That’s how he got his name. He has this mug that looks like he just lost the World Cup.’
He tried to step beside Lil, but she turned again to keep her back squarely facing him.
‘He loves soccer as much as anyone, though, and he’s great in defence.’ Jasper smiled. ‘Mainly because his face is enough to scare even the toughest marker away.’
Lil’s laughter caused her to stop defending and Jasper quickly took possession of the ball. ‘Does he ever speak?’ Lil asked.
‘When he feels like it.’
‘And when’s that?’
Jasper thought about it. ‘I think he might’ve said something a couple of years ago.’
This time they both laughed out loud.
‘Soccer training not interesting enough for you two?’
Coach Wallace stood beside them with a scowl that spread from one side of his face to the other.
‘No.’ Jasper winced. ‘I mean, yes. It’s great.’
Jasper and Lil got back to their training, and after a few more drills, Coach Wallace divided the team up and they played a game.
This was the part of training Jasper loved best. He got to test out the skills his grandad had taught him as well as the ones he’d learnt during training.
They only had enough time for ten-minute halves. The first half went by without a goal, but Coach Wallace pointed out good plays as well as any missed opportunities and how they could improve next time.
Just before Coach Wallace blew the whistle ending the second half, Jasper saw that Lil had broken free from her marker. His grandad’s words sprang into his head: ‘Always be on the lookout for fre
e players and get the ball to them quick smart.’
He sent a sharp cross to Lil. In one swift move she’d trapped it with her foot and kicked the ball smoothly through the air, straight into the goal.
It was a perfect play.
The way Lil acted, anyone would have thought she’d just won the championship. With her arms in the air she ran around the field, jumping up and down and whooping and cheering at the top of her voice.
Jasper wasn’t usually in for big shows of celebration, but there was something about Lil and the way she used her whole body when she cheered that made him want to yell and shout too.
Lil bounded over to Jasper and wrapped him in an excited hug.
Tricky frowned, not happy that Jasper was getting all of Lil’s attention.
‘Don’t worry, Tricky.’ Josie nudged him in the side. ‘She probably just needs a little more time to realise how irresistible you are.’
Tricky ignored Josie as Lil and Jasper danced and hugged.
Coach Wallace blew his whistle to end the game and send everyone home. But Jasper never heard it. He was too busy jumping and whooping with Lil and thinking of how perfect the day had been and how nothing could happen to make him feel any different.
JOHNNY SAYS:
Football is like life – you have to take the good with the bad. It shows character to keep a balance, on the field and off. You’re only as good as your last game, and the best team is consistently good rather than occasionally brilliant. I’d always prefer to win 2–1 two weeks running than win 8–0 one week and lose 4–0 the next.
‘Dad! Nannu!’
Jasper raced up the front stairs of his home, busting to tell his dad and grandad all about training and his goal-scoring assist with the new player, Lil.
But when he got inside, he stopped short.
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘At work.’ Nannu pulled out a chair like he always did when Jasper came home from training. ‘Sit down and tell me how it went.’