by Dirk Mclean
“I’m warning you too, Ade,” Dylan said, taking out some yellow squares of paper.
“Ref, it’s not the World Cup...” Sunny said, trying to lighten the mood.
Ozzie couldn’t stay silent. “You were offside, Ezekiel.”
“Excuse me, goalkeeper, you were way on the opposite side,” Ezekiel stated.
“I could still see clearly. Technically, you were over that line. Okay, let’s start at the centre again.”
Nobody moved.
“Now, guys. Time is precious,” said Ozzie. “Dylan, reset your watch.”
Everyone returned to their starting positions. Secretly, Ozzie was pleased that the players were taking the play so seriously. He would not want anyone being yellow carded or red carded at the presentation match.
Dylan blew the final whistle as his watch alarm went off. Unlike in pro matches, there were no additional minutes for stoppage. Kenneth’s side celebrated a 2–1 victory. Ozzie’s side slumped to the ground. All were exhausted. They sat in a circle on the field, even Dylan. Ozzie hooked his beaded chain around his neck, feeling like himself once more.
“Guys, a round of applause for our volunteer referee, Dylan Hollingsworth,” Ozzie said. “Thanks for helping us out.”
Dylan stood up and bowed, soaking in the cheers of the team and blushing at the same time.
Ozzie went on to explain the reason for the exercise. He had wanted to see how well they were playing together, the communication between midfielders, between forwards and between midfielders and forwards.
“I liked most of what I saw,” Ozzie started. “And I’m happy with the way the drills and activities are paying off in such a short time.”
Then he explained where they could improve in the coming week.
The two goals scored against him by Trevor and Atah had surprised Ozzie. He knew that next week’s practice must include him facing lots of shots. He needed to be sharper.
* * *
The rest of the team went off to their lives. But Ozzie’s afternoon was far from over. He had to live up to his end of a bargain. Dylan was a top-ten cross-country runner in his division. He loved running more than any sport. Ice hockey was only a distant second.
Ozzie joined Dylan for a three-mile run, ending at Malvern Town Centre’s east side parking lot. As they cooled down by stretching, Ozzie’s thoughts turned again to his home situation.
“Dylan, how do you cope with change?” Ozzie asked. Remembering Mom’s request to keep the family secret, he pretended that his question was coming out of the blue.
Dylan looked at him strangely. “Same as everyone else, I convert it into larger bills so I don’t have to carry around all that weight.” His face looked serious, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
“You are such an ass, my friend. I mean change, real change.”
“Look around, Ozzie. Everything in life is about change. That traffic light we went through just changed. Day changes into night and back again.”
“Stop.”
“Okay, okay. I cope with change by accepting it.”
“Accepting is your solution?”
“I change what I can change. The rest I accept. You’re such a deep thinker all of a sudden. What’s up?”
“I dunno.”
“You’re doing fine as a captain. It suits you. Stop worrying. Whatever happens Friday happens.”
“It’s not the World Cup,” they both said together and chuckled.
Ozzie could not say that the real change he was concerned about was not soccer. It was something much bigger and life changing.
* * *
Indian summer arrived in the second week of October. The heat wave was perfect for outdoor soccer. Wednesday, however, brought warm rain all day. Outdoor practices for both teams were cancelled. Mr. Greenidge secured the gym, but Ozzie United and Victor United had to share the same time period. Ozzie realized that he would not be able to run his intended drill. He signalled for his team to follow him.
“Victor, why don’t we all do a couple of drills together?” Ozzie said, approaching the other captain.
“And why would we do that?” Victor asked suspiciously.
Ozzie prayed that his team would not start objecting. They remained silent.
“If we tried to work separately, it would be awkward,” Ozzie reasoned.
“Awkward for you, maybe,” Victor said.
“The gym’s small. Our voices are already echoing off the walls. It wouldn’t be long before nobody could hear each other.”
Victor seemed to be thinking.
Ozzie became impatient. “Forget it,” he said bluntly. “I’m not begging you for anything.”
“Wait. You are right. What do you have in mind?”
Ozzie laid out eight disc cones down the length of the gym, roughly thirty centimetres apart.
“We hop between discs one foot at a time. Then we hop on both feet,” he explained.
“Okay,” Victor agreed. “Afterwards we’ll use just one disc at either end. Each guy will run from disc to disc only touching with his toe. Two times each.”
“Fine,” Ozzie agreed. “But we want this as exercise, not competition. Safety first.”
The two teams were still wary of each other, but everything went off without any conflict or secrets traded. Ozzie caught Mr. Greenidge observing them near the door.
The day before the match, the morning was warm. The earth was firm.
“Okay,” said Ozzie to his team. “This activity is the Wall of Six, sometimes called the Wall of Five when it’s only five players. You’ve seen it but I want you to pay attention anyway.”
Ozzie ignored the groans from a few players.
“A player is fouled by an opponent just beyond the goal line. Say he was given a shove to the ground or a hand across the face or a shoe to the groin. The ‘victim’ is awarded a free kick. Six players from the other team form a wall in front of the goalkeeper, at an angle so the goalkeeper can still see the shooter. There’s a defender at either end of the wall in case the ball rebounds. I want you guys prepared for this. A skilled shooter can bend the ball above the wall and curve it into the net behind the goalkeeper. Sometimes the shooter is really bad and hits the wall. This is why the players who make up the wall cover... uh, themselves,” Ozzie explained, gesturing at his crotch.
“I guess you’re telling us this ’cause those guys are bad shooters,” Sunny said with a smile.
“No, I’m telling you so you can have children someday and make me godfather.”
Ozzie directed the wall, shuffling the players around, receiving shots from the various shooters. The trick would be bringing all the elements together in a match, Ozzie knew.
During the cool-down stretch, Ozzie saw Peter and Ezekiel exchanging looks. Ezekiel jutted out his chin.
“Ozzie, you still haven’t told us what we will be wearing with our black shorts,” Ade spoke up.
“We will be shirtless. Our bodies will glisten in the sun. All the girls will take selfies with us, sending them viral. And Manchester United will challenge us to a match,” Sunny boasted.
“Guys, any T-shirt you wear will be fine,” Ozzie said casually.
He hoped that Dad had picked up the package.
8
The Presentation Match
That night, Ozzie thanked Dad for the package and checked the list twice. He went to bed earlier than usual. He closed his eyes, intending to imagine fifty balls from various angles shooting toward him. He caught each one, hugging it to his chest. But he fell asleep before he got to fifty.
Ozzie woke up and looked at his alarm clock at two-fifteen, three-thirty-five, four-forty-four, and when the alarm went off at six a.m. Dad had already laid out breakfast by the time he entered the kitchen. Ozzie ate heartily, knowing that he would need lots of energy.
Dad started singing in a Calypso style:
My boy, the soccer captain
Leader of the Nigerians
Today they playing the Syrians
It is an inner school campaign
When they take to the field, it’s fever
Their opponents better run for cover
’Cause is only goal, goal, goal
Is only goal, goal, goal
Ozzie smiled, hoping Dad’s prediction would prove right.
“My boy, captain and coach, how do you feel?”
“I wish there was more time,” Ozzie said.
“There’s never enough time. Look at it this way, the other team had no more time than you did. Just trust that everything you did with your team will come together.”
“Okay, Dad.” Something still nagged at him.
“And have fun, Ozzie.”
Ozzie nodded. Dad offered him a ride to school. But Ozzie wanted to walk instead. He left, carrying his backpack, lunch and the package. During the slow, leisurely walk to school Ozzie realized what had been nagging him. He recalled watching Victor United. And he recalled the way Ozzie United played six-a-side. He knew then that he had a secret weapon.
The final practice did not involve any actual play. Ozzie reminded his team of all the activities and why they were important. And he shared a final tactic. “Guys, we have a secret weapon. It’s the element of speed.” At the puzzled looks of his team, Ozzie went on to explain. “We’re used to playing six-a-side like we have all the time in the world. There’s nothing at stake.”
“No urgency,” Ade offered.
“Exactly. That’s how Victor United play also.”
“But we can’t go at full speed for the whole match,” Sam said.
“We’ll choose our moments,” Ozzie replied.
Then he opened the package. Checking the list of names and sizes, he handed out what was inside. Each player received a new red T-shirt with OZZIE UNITED on the back. The look on the boys’ faces made it worth the effort. They were delighted and, for the first time as a team, speechless.
The sun was hot and high in the sky above William Hall PS as Ozzie United walked toward one end of the field. Ozzie brought up the rear in a pale blue T-shirt and shorts. He had removed his beaded chain. It made him feel like he was shedding something old from his past.
Victor United, in yellow T-shirts, was on the opposite end of the field, already warming up. Victor wore moss green.
There were no metal stands for spectators. Instead, a bumpy hill ran along the west side of the field. It was framed by tall evergreens, cedars and a lone maple tree. That was where students sat to watch home games. School custodians were placing folded wooden chairs at the bottom of the hill for staff.
Ozzie ran up the hill. When he turned around his breath was taken away by a beautiful sight. As promised, Mr. Greenidge had had the grass cut and the field marked in white, with a white ring in the middle and boxed lines in front of each goal. Each corner had a small arc for corner kicks. Borrowed nets were attached to the bottom half of the H-shaped football posts. Since arriving at William Hall PS Ozzie had dreamed of playing soccer for this school. Today would be as close as he would get. He felt like crying. No. He had a job to do. He ran down toward his team.
For the next twenty minutes Ozzie United warmed up with stretches in pairs, knee lifts, rabbit hops over disc cones, sidestepping around other cones. Ozzie’s warm-up included receiving shots on goal by Ade and Sam. His forwards were not intending to score on Ozzie in front of the gathering students. But they wanted to give him the feel of seeing and catching the ball. Ozzie spotted Dylan and they waved to each other.
“Guys, you know these three rules already,” said Ozzie. “I’m instructed to remind you as your captain. Number one: Use your feet only, not your hands. Number two: Stop when the referee blows the whistle. Number three: Kick the ball into the opposite goal. Now, let’s have some fun.”
At one o’clock Principal Arsenault said a few words of welcome to the spectators.
“Introducing Victor United, captained by Victor Bayazid.” She read off each name as the Syrian boys jogged onto the field and took their positions. “Introducing Ozzie United, captained by Ozzie Ocala Holder.” Again, she read off the names as Ozzie’s team jogged onto the field in formation, chanting as they took up their positions. Two gym teachers stood in as linespersons, holding flags. “The referee of this match is our own Mr. Greenidge.”
He ran onto the field dressed all in black carrying a new red-orange ball. He joined Ozzie and Victor in the centre ring. He presented each with a CAPTAIN’s armband that they placed on their right arms. He showed a loonie to both of them.
“Tails,” said Victor.
“Heads,” said Ozzie.
Mr. Greenidge tossed the coin high in the air. The freshly minted brass colour glittered in the sunlight like gold. Ozzie was trying to recall the odds in favour of it being “heads” when it landed onto the short grass — as tails. Victor had won the kickoff.
The goalkeepers settled into position. Ozzie said his goalkeeper’s oath, “I shall defend the gate to the castle with my life.”
The referee placed the ball on the dot in the centre of the circle. He blew the opening whistle as loudly as if it was a World Cup final. Ozzie watched the game start:
Forward Muhammad slides the ball over to forward Sayid. Forward Ade and forward Sam move to cover them. Sayid sends the ball back to his midfielder Tarek who passes it over to midfielder Hassan.
The ball passed between them as they dribbled and looked for a way to get past Ozzie United. Four minutes had passed on Ozzie’s stopwatch. This was turning into a boring match when...
Ade rushes and challenges Sayid, taking the ball away. Yes. Ozzie United gains possession for the first time. Ade signals to Sam. Sam is immediately covered by two midfielders. But instead of passing to Sam, Ade dribbles with lightning speed past the other two midfielders. Ezekiel, Sunny and Atah charge toward the Victor United defence. Ade draws two of their defenders to him. Before they reach him he quickly sends the ball high to Sam at the right side. Sam traps the ball on his chest. As it bounces to the ground he bends, looks for an opening, and kicks it hard with his left foot. With no defence to stop it, the ball zooms past Victor into the back of the net.
Goal! 1–0.
Sam extended his arms and glided like a bird. He was mobbed by his teammates, except for Ozzie and his defenders who held their positions, high-fiving each other. Ade was credited with the assist. Spectators cheered.
It worked, Ozzie thought. Tremendous speed and the element of surprise were their advantage.
For the next twelve minutes, Victor United kept possession of the ball most of the time. The goalkeepers saw little action. Forwards and midfielders from both teams did most of the battling. Ozzie continued calling the action in his head. He made mental notes for what he would say to his team during the break. He was so busy thinking that he did not hear Peter and Josiah calling to him. He snapped out of his ‘state’ as the ball hit the goal post to his right and dropped beyond the line behind him.
Goal! Equalizer. 1–1.
Muhammad, who had scored, performed two back flips. He started to take off his shirt until Sayid, nearby, waved his hands to stop him. Only in men’s pro soccer was the removal of a shirt by a scorer in celebration permitted. If Sayid broke that rule, the referee could take the goal away.
Victor United celebrated. The spectators cheered the effort.
Ozzie wanted to kick himself.
“It’s only one goal,” Ade reassured him.
Ozzie regrouped quickly, putting it past him. Every goalkeeper gets scored on some time, he told himself.
Ozzie United kicked off the ball. But they were not able to do much with the last forty-five seconds in the half.
9
Keep Your Eyes on the Ball
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Both teams grabbed bottles of water. Ozzie saw Mr. Greenidge talking to Principal Arsenault. So far, as ref, Mr. Greenidge had been fair, not favouring either team. No yellow cards. No red cards. Everyone was behaving.
Ozzie United sat at one end of the field. Ozzie made upbeat remarks. He praised his team’s efforts and gave tips to players. They planned how to play the second half.
“Twenty minutes left, guys. A draw is not as exciting as someone winning. So let us knights be victorious for the kingdom. Also, when the ball crosses the side line and you win a throw-in, do it quickly. What else?” he asked.
“They always hog the ball,” Sam complained.
“When they do that chase them, mark them, keep on them. They’ll make mistakes. Use twice the speed when you need to. You can rest afterwards. You can sleep in tomorrow until noon. Tell your parents I, Ozzie Ocala Holder, give permission.” He was fired up and his players caught his humour.
In the second half, Kenneth replaced Atah as a forward. Each time Ozzie United had the ball they got past the forwards and midfielders. But Victor United’s defence held them off. Ade and Sunny’s separate shots on goal were waist high and caught easily by Victor. The spectators were vocal and loud, urging on both teams. Each time Victor United had possession of the ball Ozzie United was on them relentlessly.
Five minutes left in the match. Still 1–1. Sam marks midfielder Hassan. They are in our half. Our defenders are on the alert, shifting from side to side. Hassan slips into my penalty area, with Sam on his heels. He’s really on his heels... Hassan stumbles forward to the ground as the ref blows his whistle and signals... No, it can’t be. The ref signals a penalty kick. At the goal. At me.
Although Ozzie knew that Mr. Greenidge would be fair, he still turned to Peter.
“Did Sam push him?”
“Sure did,” Peter replied. “What was he thinking?”
“Damn. I never said push. Never mind.” Ozzie watched the ref place the ball on the penalty spot.
