Football High: Young Gun

by Patrick Loughlin

  We find a seat and that’s when I see her, taking a seat opposite us at the other end of the carriage. Grace Valdez. She has her headphones on and she’s looking down at her phone. For some reason, I can’t look away. Maybe it’s her long, wavy black hair, maybe it’s the way she’s silently mouthing the words to the song she’s listening too, or maybe she’s secretly a hypnotist and she’s put me under her control. Whatever it is, I keep on staring until finally Bazzo gives me a nudge on the arm.

  ‘You okay?’ he says. Then he follows my gaze. ‘Ooooh, I get it.’

  ‘Get what? There’s nothing to get,’ I say.

  But Bazzo nods and smiles. ‘You like her,’ he whispers. Then he undoes the whisper by cackling loudly enough to make Grace look up.

  I put my head down and wait for Grace to look away, while Bazzo struggles to contain himself.

  ‘No, I don’t like her,’ I whisper back.

  But Bazzo just grins at me. We both know it’s a lie.

  I’m still thinking about Grace 20 minutes later when I walk in through the door of our villa.

  ‘Hi Nick,’ says Mum. ‘How’d you go today?’

  I give her my standard response. I shrug and grunt ‘All right’.

  ‘Got much homework?’ she asks.

  I shrug again as I open the fridge and search for something cold and sugary. ‘Bit,’ I say, grabbing a juice box.

  The truth is that I have heaps of homework. Today we got bombarded with three assessment tasks in the first three periods – Maths, History and Art – and they’re all due in the same week. It was like some bad horror movie: Attack of the Killer Assessments. The task I’m really dreading, though, is our English speech. It has to be about the ‘classic’ book we’re reading. Surely there’s got to be a movie of at least one of the classic books on Miss Blasco’s list … Not that I’m planning to start anything tonight. That’s Next Week Nick’s problem.

  I’m about to head to the safety of my bunker (aka my bedroom) so that I can avoid any further questions, when Mum manages to fire one more round at me.

  ‘So are you happy there, Nick? Have you made some friends? It’s not too much pressure, is it? You can always switch to Green Hill High if you don’t like it.’

  ‘What? Mum! Of course I like it. Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘I just meant –’ Mum begins, but I take evasive action, retreating before she can finish.

  As I sit in my room, pretending to start my homework, Mum’s question floats around in my head like the crystal ball of Zorn floating through the depths of the Quazar Forest. (Quazar Forest? Wow, I really have to stop listening to Garth talk about his World of Wizardry online gaming nights.)

  Am I happy there?

  To be honest, I’m not sure what the answer is. I love football but sometimes I wonder if I’m chasing my own dream or just trying to become Shane Young.

  I close my door and open the bottom drawer of my tallboy. I pull it all the way out and reach into the cavity below to retrieve my secret scrapbook. I flick through its yellowing pages. I started it when I was five and I’ve never shown it to anyone else in the world, not even to Mum. Especially not to Mum. It’s a scrapbook of my dad’s career and it’s full of news clippings, articles and pictures of him.

  I turn to the last pages, which are from my dad’s latest Wikipedia profile.

  Shane Young

  Shane Young (born 8 November 1984) is an Australian football player currently playing for English Premier League team Arsenal. A talented winger and second striker, Young was a Western Sydney junior who began his professional career with Sydney United before joining English Football League Championship club Queen’s Park Rangers on a free transfer at age 20, where he earned a reputation as a brash, hot-headed player and prodigious goal scorer. He was snapped up by Premier League team Arsenal four years later and signed on a lucrative 3.5 million-pounds-a-season deal. Young has received 39 caps for Australia and scored 28 goals internationally, four in the World Cup and three in the Asian Cup. Predominately a left footer, Young is known for his impressive athleticism and his ability to carve a path to the goal box from anywhere on the pitch …

  I skip down to the next bit.

  Personal Life

  Young was born and raised in Green Hill, Western Sydney, to English parents Lester and Connie Young, who immigrated to Australia in 1975. A Green Hill Rangers junior, he attended Green Hill High where he met his first wife Sharon Webber. The couple had one child but divorced shortly after Young moved to England to pursue his football career. He later married long-time girlfriend and model/actress …

  That’s me. The one child. It always makes me excited but sad at the same time when I see that. There I am in a Wikipedia page viewed by millions of people all over the world, but no one knows my name. I’ve thought about editing the page and adding myself in but I figure there must be a reason Dad has never talked about me in public – or even bothered to send me a card or present for my birthday. His parents do that every year and sign it from Dad, Grandma and Grandpa Young, but I know it’s really just from Grandma and Grandpa Young.

  I close the scrapbook and return it to its hiding spot. I don’t know why I bother looking at it. It never makes me feel that good.

  I spot my faithful soccer ball waiting patiently in the corner of my room. Keep calm and play football, I think to myself. It’s good advice. I always feel better when I’m dribbling a ball or practising my shooting or headers.

  I grab the ball and head outside. It’s still stinking hot but maybe I can sweat away my worries. Besides, I need to practise for the futsal comp. The other kids will be expecting a good show from Shane Young’s son.

  NSF Auditorium. In-school Futsal

  Comp Round One

  Week Three: Thursday

  I step onto the school’s brand-new indoor football court for our first futsal game and immediately begin to feel nervous. I’ve never played five-a-side football before and I’ve certainly never played on an indoor surface before. I feel completely unprepared, as if I were a Knight of Elgar going into an Orcan battle in a fluffy bathrobe instead of a suit of armour. (Seriously, I have to stop hanging around Garth.)

  I guess the real reason I’m nervous is that while it may seem like just some fun in-school competition, the stakes are pretty high. Not only will the winning team take home the Futsal Champions Cup, but apparently Mr Antonelli will be at some of the games. According to Jase, Mr Antonelli is the rep team selector, so it’s pretty important we make a good impression when he’s around. I think that may be why everyone looks a little nervous. Well, almost everyone.

  ‘Dude, look at this court! This is gonna be hectic!’ says Bazzo.

  ‘I’m pretty sure no one says “hectic” anymore, Baz,’ I say, in an attempt to advise him on current teen slang trends. But he doesn’t appear to be listening.

  ‘Yep, this is gonna be heaps hectic,’ he repeats.

  ‘Have you played much futsal before?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, I played a season of indoor. It’s cool. Bit different to soccer, though. It’s fast. I mean really fast.’

  ‘I like fast,’ I say, trying to sound confident.

  ‘Me too!’ says Bazzo with a goofy grin.

  You have to love the guy’s enthusiasm. I can’t think of a single time since I met him when he hasn’t had a smile on his face. Well, besides the time the lady at the station takeaway shop forgot to put chicken salt on his hot chips.

  Speaking of enthusiasm …

  ‘All right, year seven, over here in front of me,’ calls Jase, who is enthusiasm on legs. ‘Now, who’s played futsal before?’

  A few hands go up, including Bazzo’s, Kristy’s and Kane’s. At least I’m not the only newbie.

  ‘Good to see a few of you know the game. Don’t worry, I’m going to give everyone a crash course right now and in two minutes you’re all going to be futsal experts, okay?

  ‘First up, remember that even though we’re playing futsal to improve our football
skills, futsal isn’t the same game as football. There’s a different ball for one,’ says Jase, holding up the futsal ball high in one hand. ‘It’s smaller and heavier so it doesn’t bounce away like your regulation football.’ He tosses the ball straight to this tall kid, Anton, who takes it one-handed without even flinching. The ball looks tiny in Anton’s big bear-like paws.

  Bet he’s a goalie, I think to myself.

  ‘Pass it around. Get a feel for it,’ says Jase. Anton passes the ball on and everyone clambers to get a touch of it.

  ‘Okay, second big difference,’ says Jase. ‘Positions. Obviously there are only five-a-side so your normal football positions don’t apply. Instead, you’ve got goalie, pivot, left and right flank and target. I’ll explain each in the drills but the important thing to remember is that you all have to be utility players: if your team’s attacking, you all attack. If you’re defending, you all defend.

  ‘The best bit about futsal is that there’s no offside rule. To play futsal you just need fast feet, excellent control and great decision-making skills. This is going to help, especially with your first-touch options. In football, the first-touch is often about stopping the ball with the side of your foot. But in futsal you really need to trap it with the sole of your foot. This will draw your opponent in and open up your options.

  ‘Finally, don’t be fooled by everything you see on YouTube with Falcão and Robinho: futsal isn’t about solo trick shots. It’s about passing, teamwork and constructing goals.’

  Hmmm, guess I wasted my time checking out Falcão futsal highlights on YouTube last night when I was meant to be looking for clips of a classic novel for English. Doesn’t mean I can’t throw in a few trick shots, though!

  Jase claps his hands and rubs them together with glee. ‘I’m going to call out the teams and then we’ll get started. Each house will be divided into four teams of five, so you’ll have to play some of your house mates as you make your way through the elimination rounds. But don’t worry, today’s just a practice game.’

  After Jase announces the teams and leads us through some warm-up stretches and drills, we take to the court for our first practice match.

  I’m happy with my team. We have Bazzo as pivot; Lexi and another girl, Maddie, as flanks; Kristy as goalie and me as target.

  I look to the other end of the court to scope out our opposition. They will be hard to beat. Not only do they have Kane as target, they also have Anton (or Bull Ant, as some of his teammates call him) as goalie, a Filipino kid called Elvis as one flank and Grace as the other, and a girl named Rosa, who looks every bit as tough as Kristy, as pivot.

  If Lexi is worried like I am, she doesn’t show it. ‘Let’s tear these guys apart!’ she screams, before high-fiving all of us, hard. She and Garth would probably get along great.

  Jase blows the whistle and it’s game on.

  Bazzo takes the kick-off and directs the ball to Maddie on the left flank. Grace is on her quickly and Maddie feigns with a nice step over, then shifts the ball back to me as I slide through the centre. I go to stop the ball with the side of my boot but then remember Jase’s instructions and trap the ball with the sole of my foot instead. When I look up, I’m not surprised to see Kane flying in to cut me off. There’s a glint of venom in his eyes.

  When Kane is nearly on me, I spot Lexi. I drag the ball up the back of my left leg and flick it over my and Kane’s head in a perfect rainbow.

  The ball lands right in front of Lexi. She’s a bit surprised at my risky move and takes a hurried shot at goal. Anton swats it away casually.

  ‘Nice rainbow flick,’ says Lexi jogging back into position. ‘You sure you’re not Neymar’s son? You’re dad doesn’t usually get that fancy.’

  I smile. ‘I have a few tricks up my sleeve.’

  ‘Don’t you mean your socks?’ jokes Lexi.

  I’m starting to like this girl.

  ‘Bad luck,’ calls Jase. ‘Just remember, trick shots look good but ground passes are more accurate. You need to work as a team; no one goes it alone.’ Jase glances in my direction but I’m too busy smiling at Kane to pay attention. The look on his face is priceless.

  But before I have time to fully bask in the warm glow of my trick shot, Kane’s team is on the attack. Ant returns the ball with a fast, low roll to Elvis who bursts past Maddie with a 360-degree spin before firing the ball behind Bazzo and across to Grace on the opposite flank. I run to get back in cover defence but as I jockey in on Grace I stop dead. It’s her eyes that do it. I can’t stop looking at them.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ she says.

  ‘I –’ But before I can answer, she scissors the ball past me and then crosses to Kane, who’s waiting in the penalty box. He feigns left and slots the ball in the right corner of the goal.

  He jogs back to his team with a large smug grin on his face.

  ‘Dude, what happened?’ asks Bazzo.

  Lexi is less subtle. She slaps me on the back of my head. Hard. ‘Tackle, doofus!’

  ‘Sorry, I … got distracted,’ I say.

  ‘Well, don’t!’ she snaps. ‘I want to beat these losers.’

  ‘Yep. No worries,’ I say.

  I signal sorry to Kristy who just stares at me from the box. She looks as mad as a war troll from the Black Mountains of Doom. (Ugh! Curse your stupid World of Wizardry, Garth, curse it!)

  I jog back to the centre for the kick-off, but I can’t help gazing at Grace who is already back in position.

  And that’s when Grace looks at me. For just a second. But I could have sworn that in that brief glance I see something. The tiniest flicker of a smile.

  ‘Come on, head in the game, Nick,’ says Lexi disapprovingly.

  So I try to do just that. When we gain possession, Bazzo feeds me the ball and I take it forward, shuffling it from right to left, drawing Kane in. This time I try getting past him with a 360 Maradona turn, then flick the ball up with my right foot and hook it towards the goal. But instead of hitting the back of the net like I imagined it would, it hits the back wall.

  ‘Great shot,’ says Kane, laughing.

  ‘Why don’t you try passing it sometime?’ says Lexi.

  The rest of the game goes much the same way. We lose 3–1. It’s not a great start, but at least the rep selector, Mr Antonelli, isn’t here to witness it.

  Still, I don’t think my teammates are too happy with me. As we walk off the court, I hear a low, disturbing sound coming from the goal area. Kristy is growling at me.

  NSF Fields

  Week Five: Tuesday, Period One

  ‘Aghhh! I’m dying! Please, Jase, I have to stop,’ I beg as the dreaded beep sounds again.

  ‘Come on, Nick, you’re doing great! Just keep running.’

  Jase has the boys in Warren house doing a beep test, while the girls are playing practice football games with the other houses. The beep test is a fitness test where you have to run back and forth between two lines 20 metres apart. You need to make it to the line before you hear a beep. The trick is that the beeps start coming quicker and quicker. It’s basically a form of child torture.

  I run as fast as I can but finally I miss the beep and it’s over. The good news is that I’m the last one standing.

  ‘Well done, champion, you smashed it,’ says Jase.

  ‘I feel more like … it smashed me,’ I say, sucking in big gulps of air. Still, I feel happy that I’ve managed to nail at least one test this week. Maths was tough and History was terrible, but hopefully I did well enough to manage Cs. English is a different story, though. Miss Blasco is checking our reading logs later this morning. Last night I was lucky enough to find a movie version of one of the books on her list. It’s called To Kill a Mockingbird. The thing is that the movie’s so old it’s in black and white and I only managed to watch a few minutes before falling asleep. I think I got the gist of it but I’m not sure it will be enough to fool Miss Blasco.

  ‘Okay, guys, we’re going to mix it up now with some one-on-one work,�
� says Jase. ‘To make it interesting, we’ll be taking on Cahill house.’

  Jase blows his whistle and a moment later Mr Cruz and the boys from Cahill house come jogging over, having just completed their own beep tests.

  Oh great, I think, still sucking in air desperately. I just bet I know who I’ll be going one on one with.

  Sure enough, a moment later I’m lining up opposite Kane Kruger. On the halfway line of the field are about 20 soccer balls and behind each of us is a pair of orange cones. I think I know what’s going on here.

  ‘Okay, year seven, the object of the game is to beat your opponent to the ball and then get past him to put the ball between the cones,’ explains Mr Cruz. ‘Best of three for each pair. Remember, first you have to get to the ball, then you have to beat the man. Use a feint or a move to clear the space and get the ball past your partner. This is all about speed and quick thinking.’

  ‘This will be easy,’ says Kane with a smirk, still cocky after his team’s big win over us in futsal. But I’m determined to wipe the smirk off Kane’s face. I may be tired after the beep test, but there’s no Grace to distract me this time.

  ‘On your mark, get set …’ says Jase.

  I bend my knees and get ready to bounce off my toes.

  THWOOEEEEEP! Jase blows the whistle.

  I sprint towards the ball but Kane’s long legs beat me to it by half a metre. He kicks the ball past me and I’m travelling too fast to turn and tackle him. By the time I start to chase after him, he’s kicking the ball through the cones. He doesn’t bother fetching the ball, he just turns and jogs back.

  ‘See? Too easy,’ he says as he jogs past me. I’m not sure if he’s talking to me, himself or just announcing it to everyone. I look across and see Bazzo celebrating his goal. Some other kids from Warren are celebrating but it looks like Cahill may have won the first round. I notice Jase and Mr Cruz are busy tallying up the goals. I run and retrieve the ball and place it back on the halfway line.