‘Reserves will be Charlie, Alton, Rick and James.’

  He glances at me as he reads my name last. I lower my head at the thought of sitting on the bench, watching Krispen play fullback and knowing that the regional selector will be sitting somewhere in the stands.

  ‘Any questions?’ asks Coach. Dad is about to raise his hand, but I grab it and hold it in place.

  ‘No, Dad,’ I say. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Everyone packs up and leaves the dressing shed – the chosen ones chatting excitedly to each other about the big game.

  Dad and I walk back to the car and Dad helps me scrub the dried blood from my face.

  ‘Don’t let your mum see this, she’ll freak,’ he says, spitting on a rag and it back and forth across my face until I’m clean.

  ‘It’s not that I’m on the bench,’ I say to Dad as he pulls out of the Rams carpark and onto the main road. ‘It’s just that this team, well –’ I stop short.

  ‘This team doesn’t treat each other like a team,’ says Dad.

  ‘Yes, that,’ I say. This team seems to be in it for themselves, from the coach down. There’s a few decent guys, like Dakota, but they’re all easily influenced by the dominant team members like Shawn. I look out the window at the glowing fast food signs that blur into the distance as we pass.

  ‘I know a team that treats each other like a team,’ says Dad, looking over at me and giving me a little wink.

  ‘Sydney Roosters?’ I ask.

  ‘Nup. Better than them,’ he says, smiling and turning his attention back to the road.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Just you wait and see,’ he says.

  ‘I have another deal to do.’

  Thank you

  After ‘please’, my Nonna always said that the two most important words were ‘thank you’.

  CHAPTER 20

  ANOTHER DEAL

  ‘Camden Rams and Picton Magpies Under 12s kicking off in five minutes!’ says the ground announcer. She plays the start of Guns N’ Roses’ ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ before saying, ‘We have a record crowd in tonight for an Under 12s game! The official attendance is 1312!’ A huge cheer goes up. ‘Make sure you get down to the canteen to get your chips and drinks before the game begins.’

  We’re behind the sheds, stretching and warming up. Frustratingly, once my body is loose, I’ll put on a huge puffer jacket and sit on the bench with a blanket over my legs. I unlock the grip I have on Rick’s arms and we finish our calf stretches.

  ‘Let’s go!’ says Coach Sharpe. The pungent smell of Vicks VapoRub fills our nostrils as the trainers give us fingerfuls to wipe under our nostrils. It helps to keep the airways open.

  Walking out onto the field, I spot Mum, Dad, Matt, Nonna and Nonno in the crowd. Dad winks and gives me a two-thumbs-up. He’s hatched an impossible plan, but if I get a chance, I’ll do everything I can to achieve my mission.

  Also in the stands are Alex, Ben, Luke and Gerard. Ever since I tipped Alex off, the boys and I have been on speaking terms. They’re all waving at me and I wave back. Then they stand up, holding big pieces of cardboard with big black letters painted on them.

  Gerard is holding a T

  Luke is holding an E

  Ben is holding a D

  Alex has another D

  Tedd? No one has ever called me Tedd! Then I see Alex telling the person next to him to stand up, but they have their hands full with a meat pie and a drink. They ask the person on the other side to hold their food and then they get to their feet. It’s Lewis! He towers over the other boys when he holds up the final piece of cardboard with a Y painted on it and smiles. TEDDY – that’s better! If Dad’s plan pays off, it won’t just be the Teddy show – the old team will be back together again.

  Mum is scanning the crowd with her binoculars for any sign of the regional selector. Nonna is holding her cardboard sign, which won’t be getting a lot of use if I’m sitting on the bench.

  The team is on the field, shaking hands with Picton Magpies and getting their boots checked by the referees so that there aren’t any sharp studs. Suddenly, there’s a tap on my shoulder. It’s the Camden Rams club president, Mr Taber. ‘You good?’ he says. The trainers and other players on the bench eye me suspiciously. Why would the club president be checking in on a reserve player?

  ‘Yeah, good thanks, Mr Taber,’ I say. Dad’s told me to say nothing to anyone. Even if my life depends on it. When Dad makes a deal, there are usually conditions that go with it.

  ‘Do you know what you have to do?’ asks the president.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I reply.

  ‘Good, because tonight is the night for beating records,’ he says.

  Mr Taber walks off and starts shaking hands with spectators and sponsors, leaving me alone with my thoughts. If I think that Dad’s deal with Mr Taber will be impossible, then it will be. But if I change my mindset and tell myself that it will happen, I’ll be in a much better position to achieve it.

  From the top of my sock, I pull out a folded piece of paper. It’s an old Chinese takeaway menu, not from Lewis’s favourite Chinese restaurant, but from Dad’s. On the back is Dad’s scribbled handwriting.

  Dad has done a deal with Mr Taber that will see the old team getting back together! Only a handful of people know about it and they are all here tonight.

  -My family

  -Mr Taber

  -Alex

  Even though Alex plays soccer, he’s excited to know that Ben, Luke and Gerard might have a club to join soon. I’ve made him promise not to tell them until halftime.

  Coach Sharpe has seen the conversation between Mr Taber and me and beckons me over. ‘What was that about?’ he asks.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Just wishing us luck.’

  Coach Sharpe gives me a suspicious look as he takes his seat at the end of the bench, but then he’s distracted by the opening whistle. The Picton Magpies in their green, yellow and blue jerseys all take position in a row across the field as their five-eighth kicks off. The ball, wet with the usual dew of early evening, moves down the far side of the field and is taken on the full by our winger. As he takes a few tentative steps towards the defence moving quickly downfield, I do the maths in my head to find a way to make Dad’s deal come to life and create a new Camden Rams team.

  -There are 40 minutes in a game, 20 minutes per half.

  -I have to score over 16 points – averages out at one point nearly every two minutes.

  -Scoring points is very hard if I’m not on the field.

  -Plus, we need to win.

  Up on the halfway mark now, our forwards have the ball and barrel through the green jerseys, making easy metres.

  My feet itch, wanting to get out there.

  ‘Shawn, get it out wide!’ yells Coach Sharpe. Without looking back at his dad, Shawn nods, knowing exactly what to do. He’s spotted the Magpies centre moving up too quickly in defence. Dakota moves the ball to Shawn and he runs directly at the Magpies centre. Shawn passes quickly to our centre, Mikail, who sees the gap that their centre has left in defence. Mikail runs at the hole, drawing their winger in, and Shawn wraps Mikail, receiving the ball and, taking advantage of a missing winger, scores in the corner!

  Everyone on the bench rises to their feet and cheers, along with the rest of the crowd.The referee blows his whistle and awards the try.

  ‘Camden Rams lead Picton Magpies four-nil,’ says the ground announcer. This time she plays Eminem’s ‘Lose Yourself’ as the team runs back to the halfway mark. Shawn lines up the kick from the sideline and is ice cool with concentration. His boot makes a sweet sound as it connects with the ball. He doesn’t even need to watch the rest.

  The ball

  through the posts to take us to a six-nil lead.

  Couch potato

  While technology is a good tool, it’s important not to be reliant on it. Go outdoors instead of watching TV.You don’t want to become a couch potato.

  CHAPTER 21

  HEAD HIGH

  It’s 15 minutes into the first half.

  Picton Magpies just scored an amazing try after an intercept from a Krispen pass. We were close to the tryline and Krispen threw a careless pass to Cooper, our winger. Like a lightning bolt, the opposite winger from the Magpies plucked the ball out of the air and ran down the field to score under the posts. Right now, we have the ball after a Picton Magpies forward pass on the halfway mark and it’s six points all.

  ‘Mine, mine, mine!’

  yells Mohamed, running off Dakota and ploughing into the green jerseys, defenders hanging on desperately. They finally bring him down and this time it’s our front rower Bryce’s turn to steamroll Picton Magpies.

  Twenty metres out from the tryline.

  Can we score again before halftime?

  Dakota spots the tiniest hole in the Magpies’ defence and scoots out of dummy half. He squeezes through two defenders and runs an angle to the corner. Three defenders run to catch him. He brushes one off and shrugs off a second. The third defender wraps him up around the legs, but Dakota has his hands free. Before he hits the ground, he flicks the ball to Krispen running an outside line. Krispen catches the ball and has ten metres to score. Eight metres… five metres… three metres…

  The Picton Magpies centre takes Krispen down in a high tackle. Krispen is hurt and lies on the ground, squirming in pain.

  ‘Penalty, high tackle,’ screams the referee after blowing his whistle. ‘Keep them down, number three,’ he says to the Magpies player. ‘This is your last warning.’

  Our trainer runs in and checks on Krispen. He’s pointing to his shoulder – it looks bad and he can’t move his arm. The trainer helps him to his feet and signals to Coach Sharpe that Krispen needs to come off.

  ‘James, you’re on,’ says Coach.

  He doesn’t need to tell me twice.

  I run out to where Krispen was tackled. I look around and soak it in. My family is standing up and cheering me. The boys over the other side of the field are also cheering. Alex points at me, as if to say, ‘you got this’.

  Shawn opts for the tap and go, rather than the penalty conversion. I’m replacing Krispen, and they let me take the tap for my first touch of the ball. We move back to the 20-metre mark to tap quickly and run, showing the ball to indicate a pass to one of our forwards steaming through from behind. The defence slides right, in the same direction as the side I’m holding the ball, ready to tackle the next receiver. Instead I quick-step left and capitalise on a gap between two Picton Magpies players. With only ten metres between the tryline and me, I run between the two green jerseys and ground the ball over the tryline.

  The crowd goes nuts. Rams players run in and crowd around me. Four points for me. I hold four fingers up to Mum and Dad and they do the same.

  Only thirteen more points to go, but I’d prefer not to have to kick a field goal.

  Fourteen points would be better!

  ‘Hurry up and get back to halfway,’ says Shawn. Everyone obeys the captain and our celebrations are short-lived. As Shawn gets ready for the conversion, I can hear Mum over the top of the crowd.

  ‘We love you, James!’ she shouts. So embarrassing. Nonna is jumping up and down with the Go Teddy! sign. Not as embarrassing, but kind of cute. By the time we’ve taken our positions down the other end of the field, Shawn’s kick is successful and we’re leading 12–6.Two minutes to go until halftime.

  Picton Magpies take a short kick-off. Their five-eighth kicks high instead of long, across field instead of deep. Their winger flies through the air and catches it cleanly. He crashes to the ground and the Magpies are in possession of the ball, only 30 metres out. Once the hooker shoots the ball out, their backline is ready. There’s no need to move up quickly or panic.

  ‘Hold,’ I yell, watching from behind our defensive line. The football torpedoes from player to player, left to right. Picton Magpies finally make the decision to test the line and run it straight.

  ‘Tackle one there,’ yells the ref.

  The next two runs are taken by their forwards, busting it up the middle. Picton Magpies are 15 metres out now. Next play and the ball goes out to the five-eighth, then from the five-eighth to the halfback, who chip-kicks right, the ball floating over our centres and rolling towards the tryline.Three green jerseys are chasing it down, but so am I from the left goalpost. The ball finally rolls over and it’s a race to apply downward pressure.

  If I dive now, I can ground the ball and it will be a goal-line dropout. But if one of the Picton Magpies chasers dives, they will score.

  Without hesitation, I explode through the air like Superman, hands outstretched. My fingertips sense the rubber dimples of the footy and I finally place a hand on it before colliding with the Picton Magpies winger who has also made the decision to dive.

  ‘Grounded!’ I yell, getting to my feet and gesturing an outstretched hand to the ref.

  ‘Ball safely grounded!’ announces the referee.

  Try saved.

  ‘Goal-line dropout!’ he yells.

  Shawn is smart and lets our team take some much-needed breaths as the clock winds down to end the first half. With 20 seconds left, he drop-kicks deep downfield, and by the time we tackle their first receiver, the hooter sounds.

  Camden Rams lead Picton Magpies 12 points to six.

  A race for one

  Run your own race. Never judge others and definitely try not to compare yourself to others. We are all on our own journeys in life, and they are all equally important.

  CHAPTER 22

  HE’S MINE

  We’re winning.

  That’s good.

  I’ve scored four points.

  That’s good too.

  But I have 20 minutes to score 13 points or more and we still need to beat Picton Magpies. It seems totally impossible. But then I think of what Dad always says: ‘It’s only impossible if you tell yourself it is.’

  As we walk back onto the field after halftime, I glance up at Alex.

  I can tell he’s told the boys about Dad’s deal, just like I asked him to. Luke looks nervous, Gerard is biting his nails and Ben is on his feet like he has ants in his pants.

  ‘Hey, Teddy!’ he yells. ‘You can do it!’ He says You can dooo it like that character off one of our favourite Adam Sandler movies, The Waterboy. I give him a nod and a grin and focus on my mission.

  ‘Stay onside during kick-off!’ says the referee as Shawn prepares to start the second half by kicking deep. In a straight line of defence, we stand behind our kicker as the ball recoils off the force of Shawn’s boot and the kicking tee rolls along the ground, trying to keep up with us as we run downfield.

  I can’t help but look at the clock on the digital scoreboard.

  19.45

  Nineteen minutes and 45 seconds. Still enough time to create another Rams team that will include some of the people I care about most.

  I can do it, I can do it, I say to myself, again and again.

  Their fullback takes Shawn’s kick on the full, ignores his support players and decides to take it up himself. Shawn, frustrated with his kick and aware that there is a selector somewhere in the stands, decides to chase down his own kick and make the tackle on the Picton Magpies fullback. As he runs downfield, he pushes some of our teammates out of the way.

  ‘This guy’s mine!’

  he growls, determination and anger in his eyes. Shawn focuses on the fullback’s step and predicts that he will move left. Good call.

  Just as the fullback transfers his body weight to the left-hand side, Shawn has already moved in the same direction and grabbed him around the legs, taking him down in a great one-on-one tackle. Our winger Beau moves in at the marker position, waiting for Shawn to let their fullback go.

  ‘Held,’ yells the referee.

  But Shawn ignores him and attempts to

  the player onto his back to slow down the play.

  ‘Let him go,’ yells the referee again. Shawn’s excellent tackle is soon wasted when the referee blows a penalty for not letting the player get to his feet. Shawn explodes with fury.

  ‘I didn’t even hear you,’ he yells at the ref. The Picton Magpies fullback, sensing that Shawn can be easily frustrated, laughs at him.

  ‘Thanks for the penalty,’ he teases. Shawn grabs the fullback by the collar of his jersey, but Beau intervenes just in time.

  ‘Move away,’ says the ref. Beau pulls Shawn back to the rest of the team. The referee jogs over straight away. ‘Last chance, number seven,’ he says, looking Shawn directly in the eye. ‘Answer me back or argue again and I’ll send you off. Plus, keep your hands to yourself.’ Shawn says nothing and turns his back on the ref as we prepare for Picton Magpies to take the penalty tap from just behind halfway.

  The first three runs are made by their forwards, making easy metres up the middle of the field. Our players ricochet off their huge legs and arms. We feel like speed bumps in the road as we try our best to slow them down. Finally, they get the ball out to the danger players and the halfback controls the ball in the middle of the play.

  My senses tell me that he’s going to attempt the same play he did before, which was the chip-kick before halftime. Like clockwork, he kicks the balls diagonally right again, except this time I’m further away than last time. Big mistake. The Picton Magpies winger is already hovering above the ball as it lands on our tryline.

  He takes it on the bounce, grasps it in his arms and dives over the line. No! It was my job to regain possession of the ball but I was out of position.

  ‘Nice work, Teddy,’ says Shawn in a sarcastic tone. He blames me for the Magpies’ try. I ignore him and concentrate on what to do next time. I can’t undo what is done, but I can make sure it doesn’t happen again. Picton Magpies kick the conversion and scores are level at 12-all.

  Fifteen minutes to go.

 

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