Golden Goal

by David Starr

  “Hey, you guys! Check this out!” Alex, another boy Dylan knew from Regent, suddenly appeared, a soccer jersey in his hands. “It’s only 150 dollars! But I won’t wear it for your birthday party, Manny. I wouldn’t want it wrecked. Paintball and pizza! It’s gonna be so fun! Oh, hey, Dylan,” Alex added, seeing him for the first time. “How’s the new school?”

  Then Dylan knew. His friends were lying to him. Emmanuel was going to have an awesome birthday this year after all. But Dylan hadn’t been invited.

  “Dylan,” Emmanuel stammered, his face bright red. “Yes, I’m having a party. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I wanted to invite you, but you don’t have a phone anymore. I would have left a message on Facebook, but I didn’t think you had a computer. I’d ask you now,” he said quickly, “but there’s a limit on the number of people who can play and…”

  “That’s cool. I get it. No big deal,” Dylan said quickly. “I just remembered I have plans tomorrow anyway.” Dylan wanted to run away as fast as he could. His old friends from Regent seemed to feel the same. Tony couldn’t even look at Dylan. Alex, who had missed the start of the conversation, seemed confused.

  “My mom’s waiting for me,” said Emmanuel, making a show of looking at his phone. “See you when we play your school.”

  “I’ll message you,” said Tony as he, Emmanuel and Alex left the store.

  “Sure. Later.” But Dylan knew there would be no message from Tony, or from anyone. After all, Dylan didn’t have a phone.

  Dylan couldn’t believe it. He had been out of Regent Heights barely a month and Tony and Emmanuel had already forgotten about him. He may as well have moved to Mars.

  In a daze, Dylan walked back to the mall entrance. The happiness he had felt when he arrived had drained right out of him. He barely noticed his mom’s approach.

  “Hey, Dylan, I’m starving! Are you ready to get some…” She looked at Dylan’s face and stopped mid-sentence. “Honey? Are you okay?”

  The last thing Dylan wanted to do was tell his mom what happened. She’d been through enough already. She didn’t need this.

  “I don’t feel good. I think I’m coming down with something,” he said, thoughts of dinner and new clothes completely gone. “I’m not hungry anymore. Can we please just go home?”

  * * *

  Sometime between Friday evening and Monday morning, Dylan’s sadness was replaced by anger. Red hot anger. Betrayed. That was the word. Dylan’s two best friends in the world had turned against him, thrown him away like a piece of trash. What should have been the best weekend he’d had since his dad died had become the worst.

  “Come on, Dylan,” his mother said from behind the bedroom door. “I know you’re still not feeling well but you need to get to school. You have a game today, remember? The first with your new team.”

  And that was another thing. Dylan had somehow fooled himself into thinking things were getting back to normal. That he had soccer and friends and a life. But when he saw how wrong he was, his desire to play soccer had vanished.

  “Can’t I stay home?” he begged. “Please?”

  “No, and that’s the final word.” The tone of his mom’s voice matched her words. End of discussion.

  Dylan walked so slowly to school he was almost late. Arriving in Ms. Jorgensen’s class when the bell rang, he muttered something to Claude, who greeted him with his usual smile. Then he slumped down into his desk.

  Dylan didn’t play soccer with the team at recess or at lunch. He told the guys that he was getting over being sick, and didn’t want to waste his energy before the game at Griffith Park.

  The afternoon passed slowly for Dylan. The other team members in his class could barely control their excitement. But it was all Dylan could do to control his temper. The more he thought about how Emmanuel and Tony had treated him, the angrier he got.

  “Dylan,” Claude said as the bell rang. “You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m fine,” snapped Dylan. They silently walked down to the front door of the school to meet Coach T.

  “Here are your uniforms, boys,” said the coach, a big duffel bag in his hands. “I’ve assigned you each a jersey and pair of shorts. Look after them. They’re all we have.”

  Coach T gave Dylan his uniform. The dark green jersey had a golden eagle on the front and the number eight on the back. When Dylan was a Regent Heights Knight, he wore blue and silver and the number seventeen. He thought of his former friends and his anger started to bubble again.

  “Are you okay, Dylan?” Coach T asked, eyeing him sharply. “Is it the shorts? Are they too small?”

  Why is everyone asking me if I’m okay? Why can’t they just leave me alone? Dylan thought. “They’ll fit just fine,” he managed to say.

  “Great,” said Coach T. “Get changed and wear them under your clothes for the walk to Griffith Park. It’s a little chilly outside and it might rain.”

  The boys got changed and followed Coach T out of the school. Griffith Park Elementary School was by Grandview SkyTrain Station, twenty minutes away. The boys chatted and joked with each other as they walked — all but Dylan.

  “Coach T, is it true you used to be one of those SWAT guys?” asked William. “With the machine guns and the black masks? That sounds so cool!”

  “In the RCMP it’s called an Emergency Response Team, not SWAT.” Coach T grinned. “And it does sound cool. But I wasn’t on the ERT.”

  “You were in the gang squad though, weren’t you?” asked Michael.

  “Yes, but it’s not called the gang squad either,” said Coach T. “Before I became a liaison officer I was a member of what’s called the Special Enforcement Unit,” he explained. “Our job was to stop organized criminals. Some are gang members.”

  “That’s awesome!” said Jun. “Being undercover, driving fast, arresting bad guys? I would love that job!”

  “There were some interesting moments,” Coach T said. “But it wasn’t like what you see on TV. We spent a lot of time on paperwork and on our computers. Often we would sit in our cars and watch a house or a business for hours. And still not see anything.”

  “Yeah, but it had to be more exciting than being a liaison officer,” said Michael. “Why would anybody want to work with kids when you could go after gangs? Isn’t that kinda… boring?”

  Coach T laughed. “Actually, I think being a liaison officer is one of the most important things we do in the RCMP. I work with high school and elementary kids, and I help them make good choices. It’s a lot more rewarding keeping kids out of gangs than arresting them once they are in them.”

  “And you get to coach the best soccer team in the world!” said Junior.

  “That is true as well,” said Coach T. “The very best team!”

  10

  The First Game

  “Warm up, Eagles,” said Coach T when they arrived at Griffith Park Elementary. “The game starts in ten minutes.”

  “In a circle, guys,” said Claude. “Do what I do.” To everyone’s approval, Coach T had named Claude the captain. Claude never got too excited, and was always encouraging. That he was one of the best players on the team didn’t hurt.

  Dylan tried to sort out his feelings about the game. Part of him wanted to play, to blow off steam. But another part of him wanted to quit, to run home and lock himself in his room.

  As he stretched, Dylan looked at the Griffith Park team. They were called the Dragons and their uniforms were yellow. Their players were a mixture of kids from all over the world, just like at Grandview. The school looked like Grandview, too, and their field was identical — a slightly uneven, ugly dirt field.

  “Let’s have a good game,” said Coach T as the players huddled up. “Play hard, play safe, play fair. Jun and Abdul, you start on the sidelines and I’ll sub you in later. We’ll play 4, 4 and 2. Griffith Park won th
e coin toss so they start with the ball.”

  In their 4-4-2 formation, they had four defenders, four midfielders and two strikers. Abbas and Dylan were up front, Claude, Mo, Junior and Jake played midfield. William, Steven, Alvin and Carlos were defence. Michael was the goalie.

  “Bring it in for a cheer, boys!” said Coach T.

  “One! Two! Three! Go Eagles!”

  The Grandview team took their positions on the field and waited for the whistle to start the game. Dylan was nervous. He was rusty. He had no idea how things would go.

  The referee tweeted the whistle and the first thirty-minute half started. The Griffith Park forward passed the ball back to a midfielder. The rest of their team moved up the field, getting ready to attack. The midfielder made a nifty move and got past Junior. But Claude read the play, ran over to support, and quickly stripped the Griffith Park player of the ball. Now Grandview was on the offensive.

  “Go!” Claude shouted. Abbas and Dylan raced toward the Griffith Park goal, Abbas on the right, Dylan on the left. Claude faked a move and booted the ball, a beautiful kick that rose in the air and landed half a metre away from Abbas. A Griffith Park defender raced toward Abbas, but Abbas saw him coming. When the defender was just a few steps away, Abbas chipped the ball to Dylan.

  It was a perfect pass. Dylan took the ball nervously. It was the first time in ages he was actually playing a real game. He took a deep breath and ran toward the Griffith Park net.

  Maybe he wasn’t that rusty after all, thought Dylan. It felt good to play.

  Dylan looked down the field, toward the Griffith Park net. There was only one defender standing in his way. Dylan raced toward him, then quickly darted to the right, easily beating the defender. Five metres from the goal Dylan booted the ball at the upper right corner of the net. The goalie stood helpless as the ball rocketed past him. The game was barely three minutes old and it was 1–0 Grandview. It was the fastest goal Dylan had ever scored.

  “Awesome!” cheered Claude as Dylan ran back to centre field.

  “Thanks. Good pass, Abbas,” Dylan added. The ref restarted the game. This time Griffith Park pushed forward, a striker running toward the Grandview goal. The Griffith Park player was fast, but Jake was faster. He stripped the ball and quickly passed it down the field. The ball bounced awkwardly over the uneven dirt field.

  Dylan took the bouncing ball, ran a few metres, then passed it quickly across the field to Abbas. Not to be outdone by Dylan, Abbas sprinted toward the Griffith Park goalie and faked a shot to the left. When the goalie jumped, Abbas tapped the ball smartly to the right hand corner of the net. Ten minutes into the game it was Grandview: 2, Griffith Park: 0.

  By halftime the score was Grandview: 4, Griffith Park: 1. Dylan had scored one of the other goals, a terrific shot that went through the goalie’s legs. Jake scored as well, with Claude getting two assists.

  Griffith Park’s only goal in the half had come from a penalty shot after Carlos had accidently touched the ball with his hand. The Griffith Park player drilled the ball hard on the ground to the left. Michael guessed correctly and made a flying leap, but he missed the ball by a fingernail.

  “Excellent job, boys!” Coach T said happily as the halftime break ended. “Let’s have a great second half.”

  Jun and Abdul subbed in for Alvin and Junior. The boys took their positions, the ref blew the whistle and the second half began.

  Just like in the first half, Grandview controlled the play. Within five minutes Dylan scored again, this time with a header from another great pass from Claude. It was only the second time in his life Dylan had scored a hat trick and he felt good — very good. Dylan hadn’t played a competitive soccer game in months, but he still had it. More than that, the Grandview team was very good. Maybe as good as his old team at Regent Heights.

  When the final whistle blew, Grandview won their first game of the season 7–2. The boys hugged each other, shook hands with the Griffith Park players and huddled up on the sidelines.

  “Good game, boys,” said Coach T.

  “Good? Don’t you mean great, Coach?” laughed Mo. “With Abbas, Claude and Dylan who can beat us?”

  “Regent Heights will certainly try,” said Coach T. “They’re district champions, remember? We’ll see how good you really are next Monday.”

  * * *

  “You played well,” Abbas said to Dylan.

  Abbas was happy. All the boys were happy. The team was in a great mood as they walked back to their school. Even the cold January rain couldn’t dampen their spirits.

  “You both did,” said Coach T. “You two could very well be the best forwards in the school district. I’m glad you’ve been able to fix things. Ms. Bhullar told me what happened in the gym.”

  “Thanks, Coach T,” Dylan said. But he was hardly paying attention. The fight seemed ages ago to Dylan. He didn’t have bad feelings toward Abbas, not anymore. It was Emmanuel and Tony he was angry with.

  See you when we play your school in a couple weeks, Emmanuel had said that day in the mall. Dylan’s heart raced when he thought about it. He would have the best game of his life and beat Regent badly. That would show Emmanuel and Tony! He realized he wanted to get back at them and that was how he’d do it. Revenge. That was the word. His friends had lied to him, abandoned him. Dylan would get his revenge.

  All week Dylan played harder than he’d ever done before. At practice, at lunch and recess and after school, Dylan lived with his soccer ball.

  “It’s terrible outside,” said Ms. Jorgensen on Wednesday. “I can’t remember when I’ve seen so much rain. You can stay inside today at lunch if you want.”

  It had been awful all week, wet and windy and cold, but that didn’t stop Dylan or the other boys.

  “This is Vancouver!” said Dylan. “It always rains here in winter.”

  “You really want to beat your old school don’t you?” Claude asked Dylan as they put on their coats. They stepped out onto the field, which looked more like a swimming pool than a soccer field in places.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Dylan hadn’t said anything to his team about meeting his old friends in Supersports. He hadn’t even told his mom. He didn’t want to give her more to worry about.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll play well,” Claude promised Dylan. “We’re teammates — and friends. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”

  “Thanks,” Dylan said. To his surprise, he felt like crying at Claude’s kind words.

  After the mall, Dylan had begun to feel something else as well as anger. There must be something wrong with him, he’d thought. Why else would Tony and Emmanuel have excluded him? Dylan felt worthless, like he didn’t deserve friends. Yet here was Claude, a boy he’d only known for a very short time, being nicer to him than people he’d known his entire life. Dylan was confused, and didn’t quite know what to think.

  11

  Regent Heights Comes to Play

  “How are you feeling about the game today?” Dylan’s mom asked early Monday morning. “I wish I could come but I won’t get home in time and I haven’t been there long enough to ask for time off yet.”

  “It’s no big deal, Mom, “Dylan said. “It’s only our second game of the season. It’s not like it’s a playoff or anything.”

  “If you say so, Dylan.” Her tone made Dylan think she didn’t quite believe him. “Anyway, have some breakfast. You’ll need your energy today.”

  Dylan had hardly eaten all week. “I’m not really that hungry,” he said, picking at a piece of toast.

  Dylan’s nerves were alive and his whole body seemed to vibrate. All he could think about was the game.

  “I don’t care if you’re hungry or not,” his mom said firmly. “Besides, I made scrambled eggs and they’re not going to waste.”

  Dylan ate a few hurried forkfuls before rushing to the front door, soccer ball in his ha
nd.

  The school day was the slowest one of his life. Social Studies and Math dragged by, and Dylan nearly cheered when the recess bell rang. The boys sprinted out to the field to play a quick game. They reluctantly came in when the bell rang. At lunch, Ms. Pucci served them hamburgers. The boys wolfed them down, eager to get outside.

  “Play hard, play safe, play fair,” said Claude, playing the role of Coach T. “We have a big game today. Let’s get ready.”

  For the next forty-five minutes the boys peppered Michael with shots. They practised corner kicks, set plays and passes. They were on. Dylan felt it, they all did. When lunch ended, the boys left the field sweaty, tired and confident they were going to beat Regent.

  Dylan settled into his desk and got out his science book. Two hours from now he would meet Tony and Emmanuel on Grandview’s field. Two hours from now he would get his revenge.

  The entire school was excited about the game. All the kids, from Kindergarten to Grade 7 were on the sidelines. As he waited for the Regent team to arrive, Dylan could hardly breathe, he was so nervous. When the first carload of Regent players showed up, he felt he would explode.

  “Huddle up, boys,” said Coach T as the rest of the Regent players arrived. “I know you’re excited, but remember that this is only the second game of the season. We have a lot of soccer left to play.”

  “Let’s get these guys!” said Jake. “We can beat them!”

  The entire team cheered loudly in response.

  “Yes, you can,” said Coach T, “but Regent’s the best in the district for a reason. This is going to be a tough test and you’ll have to play as a team. With Alvin and William sick, we don’t have subs today. We can’t afford to make mistakes or have anyone get hurt. Play hard, play safe, play fair. And show them what the Eagles can do.”

  “One! Two! Three! Eagles!” cheered the boys as they took the field.

  Dylan lined up against Tony. “Hey,” Tony said. Dylan ignored him.

  “What kind of field is this?” sneered a Regent player named Ethan. “I feel like I’m playing on a farm! You guys should be the ducks or chickens, not the Eagles.”