Hat-Trick Teddy, page 3
You betraaayed us!’
I sit up straight when Mr Wong calls my name. ‘Huh?’ I say, startled.
‘You looked like you were falling asleep,’ he says.
I rub my eyes quickly. ‘Um, no, Mr Wong, I was just thinking about what you said and…’ but Mr Wong continues his lesson, until he’s stopped by a commotion in the back row.
‘Is there a problem?’ he says, frustrated by another interruption.
Everyone turns to the back. It’s Mohamed and Krispen. They’re Camden Rams players. They’re okay, but they rate themselves a bit. Whenever we play them, Ben calls Krispen ‘Krispy Kreme’.
Mohamed and Krispen try to play it cool, but it’s obvious they’re hiding something. Mr Wong eyes them suspiciously. ‘Were you looking at a phone, Mohamed? Krispen?’
Both boys look down, knowing they’ve been busted. At St Gregory’s, phones in class are banned. If you break the rules, it usually equals a Friday afternoon detention.
‘Bring it up here please and show me what you were looking at,’ says Mr Wong.
Mohamed takes the hit and walks slowly up to the front of the room with his iPhone. He shows Mr Wong the screen. Mr Wong inspects it closely and then looks up at me with a look of surprise. ‘Really? James Tedesco? He’s a Ram now?’
Every boy’s head swivels in my direction and at that moment the home bell rings.
‘What’s he talking about?’ says Ben.
My face instantly turns 50 shades of red.
The class runs out of the room, straight to their bags to check their phones.
The words won’t come out of my mouth. But it doesn’t matter. In 30 seconds, Ben will find out for himself.
Slow down time
Breathe! Taking deep breaths will help slow down time. This will help increase your reaction speed!
CHAPTER 9
DAD DOES A DEAL
Ben rifles through his bag and unlocks his iPhone.
His passcode is 2568 – Menangle’s postcode. I’ve told him to change it but he never does. He opens up the Instagram app and it goes straight to a video post of the Rams’ president, Joshua Taber, announcing the new signing for the Camden Under 12s side. ‘We are pleased to announce that James Tedesco, formerly of the Menangle Meerkats, will start this week with the Camden Rams,’ he says, smiling to the camera.
Mr Taber owns the local butcher shop. He’s wearing a red, white and blue Rams polo shirt and standing outside the club. ‘We can’t wait to see James on the wing and we welcome him and the Tedesco family to the club.’ Mr Taber finishes the post by saying, ‘James will be sponsored by Julie’s Hair and Beauty – the best hairdresser in all of Camden.’
Ben shoves his phone in the pocket of his shorts and looks at me.
‘Is this true?’ he says.
I mumble a reply.
‘When were you going to tell us about it?’ he says, a big frown appearing on his face. I know this look. I’ve seen it before, when Erica Dovedale from St Ursula’s asked Gerard to the school disco instead of Ben. ‘Plus you’re a fullback, not a winger. What’s that about?’ he says.
I open my mouth to answer, but I don’t know what to say. I take a deep breath, but just when the words finally come to me a group of seniors walk past and pat me on the back.
‘Go, Teddy, up the Rams!’
they cheer.
Then a group of Year 9s do the same thing.
Lastly, the PE teachers walking up from the oval with the athletics equipment stop to congratulate me.
‘Shame about the Meerkats, but happy for you, James,’ says Mr Coleman, who’s holding on to the end of a high-jump mat.
I thank him and try to pick up the conversation with Ben, but, impatient with all the back-slapping and congratulating, he’s legged it and I’m standing on my own, confused by all of the attention.
At the beginning of the day, no one knew my secret.
At the end of the day, all 753 boys at St Gregory’s are talking about it like it’s front-page news.
I didn’t want my friends to find out like this, but at least the knot in my stomach is unravelling and it feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
With no mates in sight, I walk down to the pick-up spot and immediately see Mum’s white Nissan in the long queue of cars. Matt’s already in the front seat and is motioning me to hurry up, and I can see why.
On the side of Mum’s car is a huge sticker that says JAMES TEDESCO – SPONSORED BY JULIE’S HAIR AND BEAUTY. It even has a big picture of a woman’s face.
‘What the heck?’ I say out loud. Matthew is waving at me even more energetically now. I run towards them, my bag bouncing up and down on my back.
‘Get in!’ he hisses. ‘This is so embarrassing, thanks to you!’
I buckle up and see the rollers in Mum’s hair. She turns around and smiles. Mum has a face full of makeup. She never wears makeup to school, especially for drop-off and pick-up.
‘What’s all this about?’ I ask as Mum pulls away from the kerb.
‘Dad did a deal,’ says Matthew.
Those four words make my heart sink. Our dad is known for doing deals. He’s always bargaining with the workers at Bunnings or trying to get the man at the fruit shop to sell his tomatoes cheaper.
‘Dad told the Rams that if you are going to play for them, you should be sponsored,’ says Matt.
‘So I’m sponsored by a hair and beauty salon?’ I say, even more embarrassed.
‘Yep,’ says Matt through gritted teeth. ‘Want to know the best part?’ he adds sarcastically.
‘What?’
‘Our family gets free haircuts at Julie’s.’
‘Who’s Julie?’ I say. Matt turns around to face me.
His head looks like a volcano, getting redder by the second and about to erupt.
‘SHE OWNS THE MASSIVE FACE ON THE SIDE OF OUR CAR!’ he yells. ‘It’s so lame.’
The sticker of Julie’s head is one of those see-through stickers they plaster on the side of buses. It can be stuck on the window and you can see out, but no one can see in.
From the top to the bottom of the front door, Julie’s happy face is smiling at everyone on the footpath.
Deep down, I agree with Matthew. This is really
Why couldn’t my sponsor be a brand of cereal or a car company – something cool? Still, even the pro players have to start somewhere.
‘One day it will be Nike,’ I say quietly to myself.
‘What will?’ says Matt.
‘My sponsor.’
‘As if,’ he grunts.
‘You won’t say that when I get you free shoes instead of haircuts,’ I say.
‘Whatever,’ he says.
I look out the window and dream of Nike. Of playing footy again. I wonder what the boys are doing. But soon enough I know, because the messages have already started to come through. Usually our group chat messages consist of who the Meerkats are playing, whose Mum or Dad is doing the taxi run to the game or what’s happening in the NRL. Whenever the Bulldogs win, Ben will send everyone a GIF of a real-life bulldog dressed up in gold chains and a baseball cap. DOGGIES are GANGSTA he writes under the GIF. It’s pretty funny.
But today no one in the group is laughing.
Gerard Quig:
So did anyone else know about Teddy’s deal before the whole school heard?
Alex Banasik:
I didn’t.
Luke Pollard:
I didn’t. Teddy – how come you didn’t tell us?
Ben Sarkis:
Yeah, Teddy. I was next to you when I found out. #awkward
Teddy Tedesco:
Hey, guys, I totally wanted to tell you today. I just didn’t know how.
Gerard Quig:
How could you NOT tell us? We’re supposed to be a team.
Teddy Tedesco:
We are a team. I just couldn’t find the right time to say anything.
Luke Pollard:
We WERE a team. Obviously not anymore.
Teddy Tedesco:
I only found out last night. Rams invited me to play.
Ben Sarkis:
Where’s our invite?
Gerard Quig:
We didn’t get one, Ben.
Teddy Tedesco:
I have my first training session tonight. I can see if there’s room for you guys.
Gerard Quig:
Don’t bother, Teddy. We know when we’re not wanted.
I stop texting here. I’m getting too upset. The more I try to make it better, the deeper I dig myself into a hole. The boys don’t want to listen. They’re angry.
If I leave the group chat, will the group let me go too?
Kick return
After the ball is safe in your hands, look for space in the field and run towards that!
CHAPTER 10
WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE
Dad pulls up inside the Camden Rams Rugby League Club carpark.
The raffles are on inside but we’re not here for the meat trays.
I was in enemy colours last time I was here, but as soon as I walk on the training field they throw me a Rams training shirt.
Before I know it, I’m running warm-up laps with my new team.
Some faces I know from school, like Krispen and Mohamed, and other boys I recognise from playing against them.
‘Two laps to go! Move!’ yells Coach Sharpe. Instantly, the team falls into line and steadies their pace. They’ve done this plenty of times before. Their breathing syncs and so do their footsteps. I feel like I’m caught in the middle of an army, marching to war. With this kind of discipline, no wonder these guys are the best in the competition. I’m jostled from side to side and nearly trampled over by one of their forwards.
‘Get with the program, Tedesco,’ says Shawn Sharpe, Rams captain, halfback and son of Coach Sharpe.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble, and take my place at the back of the pack.
Grass that’s damp from the evening dew flicks up into my face from the studs of the players in front of me. I wipe my eyes and concentrate on the next two laps. I pass Dad leaning against the car near the sideline.
He gives me a reassuring nod – a ‘don’t worry, you’re doing great’ kind of nod. It’s not the kind of encouragement I need during warm-up laps, but I’ll take every bit of friendliness I can tonight.
‘One lap to go!’ shouts Coach Sharpe. This time the pace quickens. It’s been like this since Under 6s – no one wants to be the last person to finish. The backs speed in front of the forwards, except for Mohamed. He’s a second rower and still pretty quick. I’ve only been a Ram for five minutes, but I figure this is a good chance to show them what I can do.
My legs tingle and my muscle fibres begin to twitch. From the back of the group, I step on the gas and move quickly through the pack. I brush past the forwards, past Mohamed, and reach the rest of the backs, moving quickly with only the length of the field to go.
Coach Sharpe is watching at the end with the other helpers, who have tackling bags under their arms, ready for the next drill.
The wind slices through my hair and new training shirt as I dart in and out of the pack, moving closer to the front. Even though the boys aren’t with me, I can’t help but feel a bit excited when I smell the aroma of freshly mown grass. It’s the smell of footy. It’s great to be out on the field again.
I speed past Krispen and finally reach Shawn and the fullback, Jayden, who’s leading the way. There’s an opening between them. If I put on a burst, they won’t even know I’ve passed them.
I change speeds and surge towards them. But as soon as I’m in between them, I realise it’s a trap! Shawn and Jayden jam together, sandwiching me.
‘Oough!’ I say as the air is knocked out of me. Shawn flicks his ankle in front of my foot and Jayden follows his lead. My legs are swept from under me and I go crashing to the ground, landing directly on my stomach. There’s no more air to lose, but I’m winded anyway. My stomach starts cramping with uncontrollable pain and I gasp for breath. The rest of the team thunder past like a herd of wildebeest on the African plains trying to escape a hungry lion pack. I can’t start at the Rams like this.
Face down in the grass, feeling ashamed, embarrassed and most of all angry, the image of Nonna with the Go Teddy! sign comes rushing into my head. I can imagine her saying, ‘Alsarzi! Alsarzi!’ while she motions for me to get up off the ground. I lift my head and shake away the image. The next vision I have is of Dad, standing nervously next to the car, but this time I’m seeing him for real. He’s pointing the same way as Nonna.
His lips are saying,
‘Move!’
I put a fist into the ground and get onto one foot. I move the next foot forward and stand up, now taking in small breaths of air. As oxygen gradually returns to my lungs, I move into a slow jog back to the rest of the team, who are waiting at the end of the field.
‘Welcome to the jungle,’ sneers Jayden, already halfway into his stretches by the time I return.
‘Welcome to the Rams,’ says Shawn, in the same sarcastic tone.
I ignore them and begin some hamstring stretches.
‘Hope you’re ready to step it up,’ says Shawn. ‘Don’t make us squish you again.You’re not playing for the Mosquitoes anymore.’
‘Meerkats,’ I correct him.
‘Whatever,’ he replies. ‘Mosquitoes. Meerkats. Still small and annoying.’
He and Jayden laugh and then they give each other a high five. I decide to go and stretch near Mohamed and Krispen. I know I need to make some friends here – especially if I want to make the run-on team.
I may have been the most promising Meerkat, but it’s important that I earn the Rams’ respect.
And the only way to do that is to win us some games.
Tackling
Always step in with the same leg and shoulder. Wrap with your arms. An effective tackle is more important than a big tackle.
CHAPTER 11
WET KISSES
On Saturday morning, Dad, Matt and I are about to watch a recording of last night’s game, Broncos vs Rabbitohs. Dad wants us to analyse what good NRL wingers do.
‘But, Dad, I want to play fullback,’ I say. Dad’s multitasking as usual. He’s looking through the list of titles he’s recorded on the TV and speaking to me at the same time.
‘Well, the Rams have a fullback, so you’re playing on the wing,’ he replies matter-offactly. ‘Plus, I’m not your coach so I can’t make that call.’ He clicks the remote and scrolls past Australia’s Ugliest Pets and Married at First Fright. I can’t believe he actually watches this stuff. Dad or Nonno would say at least three times in one episode, ‘That dog looks just like its owner.’
Dad’s right, though; there’s not much I can do. If I really want to be playing rugby league, I have no choice but to play wing. I guess it’s better than nothing. Finally, Dad waves the remote like a light sabre at the TV, clicking on Broncos vs Rabbitohs Round 7. Like a true Jedi Master, he uses the fast-forward button to skip to the parts where the wingers are defending or attacking.
‘Now look at the Broncos winger right here, boys,’ says Dad. ‘He’s drifted in too far off his line and the Rabbitohs will target him.’ He hits pause on the remote. The winger is about five metres in from the sideline – that’s a long way in when there are two attackers running towards him. The Rabbitohs winger has the ball and is running the inside angle. He’s tricked the Broncos player into coming in too fast. Dad hits play again and straight away, the Rabbitohs centre runs around the back of his winger and has the whole sideline to himself. The winger flicks an easy little pass to his teammate, who runs 30 metres down the sideline to score.
‘That Broncos player should have marked his line and left it to his teammates to take the inside attacker,’ I say.
‘Correct!’
says Dad, leaning over and giving me a high five. ‘Don’t be like him, James. No one likes a twitchy winger.’
‘But what about the Rabbitohs winger?’ says Matt. ‘I’ve always been told to stay in position. How come he ran in off his line into the centre’s territory?’
Mum comes in and hands Dad a cup of coffee. Dad throws in a quick, ‘Thanks, darl,’ before answering Matt. ‘Now, this winger didn’t end up playing NRL by chance,’ Dad says. ‘He’s there because he backs himself. He knows what he’s good at and he takes risks.’
I think about my own gameplay. I can run, spot gaps and, most importantly, I take chances.
‘If either of you wants to hit the big time,’ says Dad, ‘you have to take risks.’
I repeat Dad’s words in my head. He’s right. I can’t mope around and take a backward step at the Rams just because I’ve been named as winger instead of fullback. I need to make my own luck! Most importantly, I need to practise my running on the sideline.
Dad’s sipping his coffee and about to queue up another clip of a winger doing something great or not-so-great, when I say, ‘Dad, I get it – take risks and don’t be twitchy. Can I go and practise now?’
‘But mate, we haven’t finished our lesson,’ he replies. Mum coughs from the other side of the room. Dad looks over and she sips her coffee too, giving him the evil eye. This usually means he’s taking it a bit too far.
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll leave the game on the recorded list, just in case you want to come back to it.’
‘Sure, thanks, Dad,’ I say, and nearly knock over the coffee table as I get up to run outside.
I scoop up a spare footy next to the front door and run across to the cow paddock footy field.
It’s lonely out here with no one to practise with. Matt’s talking to a girl on the phone and I don’t have the boys to pass or kick to. I stand on the sideline. To my right, I visualise the attack coming towards me. To the left of the field, the crowd are screaming. I pretend that the Rams’ arch rivals, the Picton Magpies, are swinging the ball out to my sideline. My legs tense, tingle, and I explode forward, darting right to tackle the imaginary player with the ball. As soon as I rush forward, I realise my mistake. Too quick, too soon, I tell myself. I’ve made a similar error to the one the Broncos player made. Relax, watch the play and read it. This is something I’m usually good at. I need some proper gameplay – fast.
