Matty in the Goal

by Stuart A. P. Murray

  The fans roared. The Cannons crowd went wild with excitement.

  Mike Lee yelled, “Great save, Matt!” and Tommy Schmidt bellowed, “Yeah! Way to go, Wells!” Mr. Moore cheered, too, standing behind the Cannons bench. Kathy’s voice was among the loudest from the stands.

  With the shouts of the crowd thrilling him, Matty paused a moment to catch his breath before sending a long punt out to his right wing. It was a strong punt, but the ball quickly came back down-field. Bill Stein cleared it with a desperate kick, but the Cannons couldn’t maintain possession.

  The Rovers were too skilled for the Cannons, even for Gibb. They never lost the ball. They made the ball their own. It seemed like it was glued to their feet. The Rovers passed accurately and kept the ball away from the Cannons. But the Cannons hustled, especially Gibb. They did their best to play defense.

  The Rovers came downfield again and again, and Matty played as he’d never played before. He was fearless and inspired. He jumped with their best players to pull down high balls. Over and over, he knocked down their shots. One shot flashed across the grass, heading right for the corner of the goal. But somehow Matty dived with all his might and pushed the ball out of bounds.

  It was the most exciting day of Matty’s life. His teammates depended on him. And they were inspired, too. They’d never played so hard before. It was a rough game, but the Cannons didn’t give an inch. Even though they were outplayed, they held their own. No one on the field played harder than Gibb.

  Again and again, Gibb went down in bruising crashes with Rovers players. Several times, his father shouted at the referee to call fouls against the Rovers. However, Mr. Moore was wrong because the plays were clean.

  When the halftime whistle came, the score stood, amazingly, at 0–0. As the teams came off the field, the Cannons crowd cheered. Matty’s parents and Amy were jumping up and down, clapping and shouting their encouragement. Even Sam barked at the entire hullabaloo. Matty heard some Rovers grumbling, but Bobako told them to settle down. He took them to sit by one of the goals for halftime.

  Mr. Moore was worked up. He patted Gibb on the back and talked to him. Matty didn’t know what they were saying, but Gibb pulled roughly away from his father. Mr. Moore just stood there.

  Matty sat down with the team, waiting for Coach Gray to talk to them. Matty took a quick look at Bobako standing with the Rovers, who all seemed angry about the first half. At that moment, Bobako winked at Matty.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Best Position of All

  “They’re dirty!” Gibb complained as he grabbed a water bottle and slumped to the ground. “They’ve been fouling me all over the place! I can’t do anything out there. They’re dirty—”

  “No,” Coach Gray said quickly. “They’re not dirty, but they play very hard.”

  “Look at my legs!” Gibb whined, pointing at marks on his thighs where he had been kicked. “Those don’t look fair to me.”

  “I think you’ve left your tracks on a few of them, too, Gibb.” The whole team laughed, except for Gibb.

  Matty noticed the Rovers all turn their heads to look at the Cannons laughing. Then Coach Gray spoke.

  “I’m really proud of the way you’re playing today. Great effort! Go out there in the second half and keep it up!”

  He didn’t say, “Go get a goal!” Matty figured that nobody expected the Cannons to get a goal. They would be lucky this half if the Rovers didn’t score ten goals, he thought.

  Then, something inside Matty Wells said he could go on defending the goal for another thirty minutes. He believed the Cannons could keep the Rovers from scoring. All they needed was a little luck and to keep playing hard.

  “And you, Matty,” Coach Gray said. “You’ve been a star today.”

  That gave Matty a thrill, especially because his teammates all agreed and complimented him. Everyone praised him but Gibb, who sat by himself.

  Matty said, “Gibb’s playing great today.”

  Gibb looked away and drank some water.

  “He is,” Coach Gray said. “Gibb, you might just break through.”

  Gibb kept staring at the ground. Nearby, his father listened intently, his arms folded as he gazed at his son.

  The second half started, and the Cannons came out furiously, battling for every ball. They tried hard to get down to the Rovers’ end. Gibb’s effort was tremendous, but he didn’t have the soccer skills of the Rovers. If Gibb had their training, thought Matty, he’d be the star today.

  Today, however, Matty was the star. Again and again, he broke up attacks. Rovers forwards were getting upset because they couldn’t score. Some even began losing confidence, as Bobako had predicted. Sometimes they took shots from too far out, or they rushed their shots and missed the goal by a mile.

  Then came a play when Gibb finally broke through! He kicked the ball forward, between the last defenders, and was on his way to the Rovers’ goal. The crowd roared as speedy Gibb pulled away from the Rovers defender chasing him. Gibb zeroed in on the goal. The goalie came out fast, arms spread. At the last instant, Gibb cut right, but the goalie slid at his feet, knocking the ball away. Gibb hit the ground hard.

  “Foul! Foul!” Mr. Moore yelled, as Gibb clutched his ankle.

  The referee blew the whistle for time-out, but it wasn’t a foul. Coach Gray, followed by a worried Mr. Moore, ran onto the field to look at Gibb’s injury. The Cannons and Rovers gathered at opposite ends of the field. From where he stood, Matty couldn’t tell what was being said, but soon Gibb got to his feet. He hobbled off the field, one arm on his father’s shoulder.

  Mr. Moore looked pale, shaken up. As they passed, Matty heard him talking.

  “Man, this game’s rougher than I thought. That was legal what that guy did to you? You’re banged up, Gibb. Better stay out now,” he said.

  “I’m going back in!” Gibb said and pulled away from his father. “I have to score!”

  “No you don’t,” Mr. Moore said. “You did just great, Gibb! You did enough—”

  “We have to score!” Gibb shouted.

  The boy turned to appeal to Coach Gray, who said he ought to take a rest and make sure his leg was all right. They left the field, and a substitute came in, but no one could replace Gibb.

  The referee whistled for the teams to return to the field.

  Mike Lee said glumly, “Well, that’s our last chance to score.”

  “Without Gibb, we’re in trouble,” Tommy said, shaking his head.

  “Come on, guys, let’s go for it!” Matty urged. “Hands in!”

  They all put their hands in, one on top of the other, counted to three, and shouted, “Let’s go, Cannons!”

  The game resumed, and the Cannons fought hard, but the Rovers pressed more than ever. The crowd cheered and cheered for the Cannons to score, but all Matty wanted to do was keep the shutout. That would be a big success.

  Then, the Mexican boy dribbled through, beating everybody who tried to stop him. With his team yelling for him to shoot, he moved to the middle of the penalty area. The entire goal was in front of him.

  Matty started to charge the attacker, but he didn’t have much chance. He did the only thing he could do. He followed his instincts and threw himself to the left.

  Matty anticipated correctly, as the Rovers forward hammered the ball that way. The shot was right in the corner. Even as Matty dived, he knew he was beaten. Then he heard a whack. The ball hit the post!

  When he looked up, the ball bounced back, right into his arms. Pure luck! Well, every good goalie needed a little luck now and then, Bobako had said.

  The Rovers were very unhappy, but they didn’t let down.

  “Five minutes left!” Coach Gray shouted from the sideline.

  It would be a long five minutes.

  Then, Gibb came back onto the field.

  The crowd let out a tremendous cheer for him. He might not be able to go full speed, but having him on defense gave the Cannons a big boost. The Cannons players got excit
ed again. The whole team seemed reenergized.

  Again, Gibb was everywhere at once, breaking up attacks, helping Matty in the goalmouth, and jumping for head balls. Matty could see what a truly amazing athlete Gibb was. Matty would need Gibb’s help to make one final defensive stand.

  Coach Gray shouted, “Defense!” over and over, and so did the Cannons crowd.

  It was a heart-stopping closing to a great game. The Cannons crowd already applauded, although the Rovers didn’t give up. Then the timer was counting down the last seconds.

  “Ten, nine, eight …”

  Suddenly, the ball was high in the air, sailing toward the Cannons goal.

  “Seven, six …”

  Now the big striker had the ball.

  “Five, four …”

  The Rovers striker ripped a blast on goal just as Gibb lunged at him. Matty dived and knocked the ball down. The referee’s whistle sounded loud and shrill. The game must be over!

  No! The referee shouted, “Stop the clock!” And he pointed to the penalty spot.

  The save didn’t matter. Gibb had fouled the Swedish attacker. To Matty’s dismay, there would be a penalty kick. It would be the final kick of the game.

  The Rovers team and fans cheered, sure this would be a certain goal. It was just Matty and the shooter, with everybody else standing back.

  Time would elapse as soon as the shot was taken. There would be no chance for the shooter to play a rebound if Matty saved it. That was a very big if.

  Matty’s heart thudded so hard that he thought everyone in the crowd could hear it. His palms got even sweatier inside his gloves. He walked around in front of the goal to calm down. He saw his mom and dad standing on the bleachers. They looked very nervous, trying to smile.

  Gibb came to him and slapped his shoulder.

  “You can do this, Wells,” Gibb said, sweat dripping down his face covered with dirt. “Sorry I fouled him, man.”

  Matty took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to say. Gibb went to stand with the rest of the team outside the penalty box. Like everyone else at the field, he stared at Matty.

  “Goalie, ready?” the referee called, raising his hand, preparing to whistle for the shooter to begin.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Go When You Know!

  Matty was ready, standing in the center of the goal. He spread his arms apart and leaned forward. His eyes were on the blond Rovers player, who lined up to shoot. The goalmouth felt enormous again. What could Matty do now? What could any goalie do?

  The Swedish striker stepped back from the ball and tapped the ground behind him with the toe of his cleat. Matty’s mouth was dry. A rushing sound filled his head. For an awful moment, his legs felt like jelly.

  Just then, Matty heard a soft voice, saying, “Go when you know!”

  It was Bobako, speaking from the sideline. His arms were crossed, eyes on Matty. Then he winked—the way only he could. Abruptly, the fear left Matty. He felt strong again.

  The referee’s whistle shrieked. The Rovers shooter began to run at the ball. This was it! This was the game, but the Rovers hadn’t won yet.

  Matty saw how the Rovers shooter came on. Go when you know! The boy was aiming … to the right! The ball was kicked, and Matty was already diving as hard as he could to the right. And it was there! He got a hand on it! He solidly met it, and the crowd exploded!

  Matty landed on the ground. But where was the ball?

  It was spinning, spinning. Matty scrambled after it. He dived, but the ball spun over the line and into the goal!

  The Rovers had won. The players and their fans cheered wildly, mobbing the Swedish boy.

  Matty felt empty, completely empty. He had failed to make the save. The Cannons lost their only game of the season.

  The Cannons players seemed confused, not knowing what to do. All around, the Rovers were jumping up and down, giving high fives and bumping chests.

  A few Cannons fans began clapping, slowly at first. Then the applause rose and turned into a roaring cheer for their team. Matty felt miserable as he shuffled toward the sidelines. Gibb sat on the ground, rubbing his ankle. As Matty approached, Gibb turned his head away.

  Matty stopped short, not expecting this gesture. It seemed like Gibb blamed Matty for the defeat. Just then, Matty was jarred by someone slapping him on the back and then another. Someone grabbed his hand and began to shake it. A crowd of faces, all laughing and chattering, suddenly surrounded him.

  It was the Rovers, and he knew what they were saying, even if their English wasn’t very clear.

  “You very good, man!”

  “Hey, you come to my country, you play with my team!”

  “You really American? You not from Brazil like me?”

  “But I missed the penalty!” Matty tried to say. “I lost the game!”

  No one listened to him, and all the Rovers congratulated him. Matty couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

  The applause continued from the bleachers. It seemed like everyone was looking at Matty. In the next moment, Coach Gray was hugging him, his teammates joining the Rovers to congratulate him. Even Sam was in the act, barking and yelping as he ran back and forth.

  Then Amy came scampering out to take her brother’s hand and ask: “Why are you smiling so much? You lost.”

  “I don’t know,” Matty laughed. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”

  Matty and Amy walked toward their parents, who were beaming with pride.

  “Poor Gibb,” Amy whispered to her brother. “He’s so sad.”

  That surprised Matty. He’d thought Gibb was just angry at losing—angry with him. But when he looked closer as they approached Gibb, Matty realized he really was sad.

  Stopping, Matty touched him on the shoulder.

  “Great game, man,” Matty said.

  Gibb looked up, then at the ground.

  “I caused the penalty. I lost the game. I didn’t score. I didn’t do enough,” Gibb said.

  “Hey, I never saw you play better than today,” Matty answered.

  Gibb looked up to see whether Matty really meant it.

  All Matty could say was, “Take care of your ankle.”

  As Matty turned away, he met Mr. Moore, who was coming to his son. Mr. Moore patted Matty on the back.

  “Well, I guess somebody’s gotta play soccer, Matty, and you do it real well.”

  “So does Gibb.”

  “So he does,” Mr. Moore smiled broadly. “So he does, indeed.”

  Mr. Moore helped Gibb to his feet, and Gibb began to limp away with him. When Matty and Amy reached their parents, they were standing with Bobako.

  “Seeing you waiting for that penalty,” Bobako said, shaking Matty’s hand, “I thought, ‘Hey, this boy sure makes that goal shrink!’”

  They all laughed, except for Amy, of course. She wondered how anyone could make a goal shrink.

  “I tried my best to stop it, Bobako,” Matty said. “I anticipated, but I just couldn’t—”

  “I couldn’t have stopped it, either,” Bobako laughed. “That ball was determined to go in.”

  They joked a bit more, and then Matty said seriously, “Playing in goal is great!”

  “Well, I told you,” Bobako replied, “many think goalie is the best position of all!”

  With that, someone tapped Matty on the back, saying, “Real good game, Wells.”

  It was Gibb. He was with his father, who had an arm over his shoulder. They both looked cheerful now. Kathy was on Gibb’s other side, holding his hand as they turned to walk away.

  Matty waved to them. It was good to see Gibb wasn’t limping any more.

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  For Leo Nduku

  Copyright © 2012 by Stuart A.P. Murray

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Murray, Stuart, 1948–