Sidelines, page 24
Carmen stares at him without smiling and Ben stares right back. He could have made things much harder for her, and she ought to be grateful that he didn’t. ‘Coffee, please,’ he says, jingling some coins in his pocket. ‘White with one.’ He drops a tenner on the counter and watches her set out a cup. ‘Make that two,’ he says. He’ll buy one for Jonica, even though he’s exasperated with her.
Carmen places a second cup beside the first and shoves a spoonful of Nescafe into each, then adds hot water from the urn and stirs it in.
‘Stuck in the canteen today?’ he asks, arching an eyebrow.
Carmen pushes the cups roughly towards him and coffee sloshes over the rims. ‘Kyle’s manager today,’ she says. ‘Canteen’s always busy, so I offered to help.’
Ben notes the empty canteen. Nobody lined up behind him. He gives her a wry smile, takes the coffees and strolls off looking for Jonica.
Around the side of the building, he sees Ilya bent over the barbecue, a sawn-in-half 44-gallon drum full of glowing coals with chunks of lamb suspended on an iron bar. Smoke rises as he bastes the meat with a brush. He swings the skewer from the coals and threads on more meat. Since last week, he’s shaved his hair off, right to the skin. It makes his shoulders and arm muscles look bigger, but Ben can’t help thinking how tired he looks. The whole thing with Katerina must have been hard for him. He feels a twinge of discomfort. Ilya seems like a decent guy, though he doesn’t mind seeing Carmen suffer.
He spots Jonica on the other side of the field, talking to Claire, so he heads over to join them. He likes Claire. She’s a good woman. You’ve got to admire her for putting up with Darren. ‘Hi, Claire,’ he says. ‘Where’s Freya?’
‘Gone to a movie with your parents.’
‘Lucky Freya!’ Jonica says. ‘I wish I was going to a movie.’
Ben hands a coffee to Jonica then glances at Claire. ‘Sorry, I should’ve bought you one too.’
Claire smiles. ‘Thanks, but I don’t need caffeine today. I’m pumped enough as it is.’ She nods towards Darren who’s further down the line, hands in pockets, watching the Bears warm up in their red jerseys and white shorts. From the firm set of his mouth and the way his shoulders are hiked up near his ears, Ben can see how tense he is.
‘That’s it, fella,’ Darren calls to Tommy. ‘Keep your head up and watch your touch … Ah, no! What was that, mate? You need to lift your game.’
‘Oh dear,’ Jonica murmurs.
‘He does put on a lot of pressure, doesn’t he?’ Ben says.
Jonica’s eyes flicker at him ironically, and he feels a hint of annoyance. He’s nothing like his brother.
‘He never gets off Tommy’s back,’ Claire says. ‘Tommy used to love it, but I’m having trouble getting him to training. He tries so hard for Darren, but it’s never enough. Breaks my heart.’
‘That sounds familiar,’ Jonica says.
‘He looks good on the field, though,’ Ben says. ‘He’s very competent.’
Darren calls to Tommy again. ‘That’s better, fella. Good pass. Keep it up.’
‘I wish he’d shut up,’ Claire says, pressing a hand to her forehead. ‘I can’t stand it.’ Then to Jonica. ‘Take me away. I think I need a cuppa after all.’
They hook arms and walk off.
Ben watches them go, then looks around for the Minotaurs, but they haven’t come out yet, so there’s nothing to do other than watch the Bears. Their coach, Luka, is working them hard, making them do sprints and shuttle runs. While the kids dash back and forth, he punctuates the air with his hands and shrieks at them in his thick accent. ‘Come on, you lot! What you think you do? Why do you waste my time? Get to work or I go home.’
Ben hates the way the old Croat speaks to the kids. Back when Ben was a kid, he played with Luka’s son in the NSW schoolboys at the national comp. Luka was the same then as he is now. Constant run-ins with the refs, swearing and abuse from the sidelines. Ben can’t believe Darren wants Tommy in that team. Their reputation precedes them—they always have difficulties getting refs.
Braedon butts up against the other Bears players, swearing and arguing with everyone. It must be a pain for the rest of the team, but Luka doesn’t even check him—he likes aggressive play and doesn’t want to discourage it. What that kid really needs is a strong father to pull him into line. But Cody’s missing, as usual. Ben looks around and spots him off to one side in a heated discussion with Santos. It looks like he’s set up his chair right in front of Santos. Typical Cody. Always looking for trouble.
‘You can’t sit there,’ Santos is saying. He gestures along the line. ‘My mother can’t see. She’s been here an hour already.’ His arm is looped around the shoulders of a crinkly old woman in a long black skirt with a grey scarf tied over her shoulders.
‘Not moving, mate,’ Cody says. ‘You don’t like it, you move. I’m staying.’ His churlish contempt digs under Ben’s skin. He looks like he’s just climbed out of bed: scruffy hair, torn-off denim shorts, stained T-shirt.
‘Don’t think so, mate,’ Santos says. ‘These are our grounds and we were here first.’
Ben shifts closer. ‘Can I help?’ he asks. ‘What’s going on?’
Cody lifts his chin. ‘Nothing, mate.’
‘Don’t worry, Ben,’ says Santos. ‘Don’t want to be anywhere near this rude bastard, anyway.’ He reaches for his mother’s chair but she bats him away and reprimands him in a strong accent. ‘No, Santos. I want to stay here.’ Santos hisses something at her in Greek but she stands firm. He rolls up his sleeves and glares at Cody. ‘Okay, buddy. My mother doesn’t want to move, so I’m asking you to cut her some slack and shift yourself along. Are you seriously going to spoil a seventy-year-old woman’s morning?’
Cody folds his arms and Ben inches forward, a jet of adrenaline shooting through him. He can feel the tension in the air. He’s pissed off with Cody for being an arsehole, but nervous about intervening—he’s dealt with thugs like him in court and knows how quickly they can detonate. ‘Hold on, there,’ he says, raising a placatory hand. ‘I’m sure we can sort this out. There’s plenty of room for everyone.’
‘Fuck off, mate!’ Cody flings him a stare.
Darren looms behind Cody and lays a hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘Hey,’ he says to Cody, grinning. ‘All us Bears parents are over there.’ He points to a group of noisy adults in red T-shirts. ‘You coming to join us?’
Cody glances at Santos and Ben, then back at Darren. ‘Dunno, mate. The view’s pretty good here.’
‘Why would you want to hang out with this lot?’ Darren says, nodding at Santos but ignoring Ben.
Cody’s upper lip curls. ‘You’re right, mate. Smells pretty bad around here.’
Darren claps Cody on the back. ‘Come with me then. It’s all roses over at the Bears camp.’
They laugh and walk off, Cody loudly asserting that the Bears are going to wipe the Minotaurs off the field.
‘Fucken dickhead,’ Santos murmurs to Ben, making sure his mother doesn’t hear as he pulls her chair closer to the line.
When the whistle blows, Ben runs along the sideline, following the ball as the play moves back and forth. He’s running the line because they were down a linesman today, and when they asked for a volunteer, no one else put up their hand. It’s so bloody typical. Always the same parents doing the same jobs while the others pretend not to hear when the call goes out. He resents having to do it. He’s already done his fair share this season, training the goalies. He wants to watch Audrey and make suggestions when she needs it. But he won’t be able to do that now—you’re not supposed to give advice when you’re a linesman.
The centre ref is a weedy blond kid who seems a bit weak. There’s a lines ref too, also a teenager. Ben doesn’t know either of them, but hopes they’re good. It won’t be an easy game; he’s the only parent out here, and whenever he makes a call, it’s going to piss someone off.
He’s also annoyed because Darren and Cody are standing too close to the line, and every time he tries to run past them, they get in his way, leaning in to yell at the players. When he asks them to stand back, they retreat a little, but when he returns, there they are again. ‘Come on, fellas,’ he says, turning to them. ‘I can’t do my job if you don’t give me space.’
‘Space for your ego, you mean?’ Darren smirks.
Cody’s laugh sends a dart of heat flashing down Ben’s spine. Next time, he deliberately knocks Darren with his shoulder as he charges through.
‘Steady on!’ Darren calls after him.
‘I warned you,’ Ben calls back.
When he runs towards them again, Darren takes an exaggerated step back, saying loudly to Cody, ‘Don’t you love the way he makes everything a competition?’
‘It’s not me who’s making this an issue,’ Ben mutters, suppressing an urge to whack his brother with the flag.
He shouldn’t let Darren ruin the game for him. It should be a good day. Audrey is on the left wing, and Katerina’s on the bench where she deserves to be. His main disappointment is that Alex is on the bench too, with a brace on his knee.
He tries to ignore Darren and keep his mind on the game, but the shouting gets to him—all the bullshit pouring forth from people’s mouths: Darren, Cody, Santos, the constant commentary from both of the coaches. Why can’t they shut up and let the kids get on with it?
It’s just as bad on the field: players from both teams arriving late to tackles, jabbing with their elbows, grabbing shirts, kicking shins. He itches to lift his flag and stop the rough play, because he knows how it goes—if the ref doesn’t take control, things will deteriorate.
The Bears are worst, egged on by Braedon. And yet if Ben goes heavy-handed on them, he might look biased, so he holds back. He wishes the young ref wasn’t so timid.
Murmurs of support flow between the Minotaurs as they pass each other on the field. Small hand-taps and high-fives. We’ve got this. Don’t let them get at you. Do it for Alex.
Ben flinches when Braedon slams into Griffin. He doesn’t want Griffin to get hurt. They need him today—he’s their best chance to win. The ref should intervene—it’s his job to protect players, especially good ones like Griffin who get targeted. But the play moves on.
Then Braedon slides into Noah in a clumsy tackle with his boot studs facing up. Noah doesn’t get up, so the ref stops play and Ben goes to assist him. The kid’s face is pinched with pain as Ben offers a hand and pulls him up.
‘Corked thigh,’ Noah grunts. ‘I need to go off.’
Ben slings an arm around the boy’s waist and helps him back to the bench. Carmen is waiting with a bag of ice. You’ve got to admit that she’s organised.
In a stunning lack of judgement, Dominik sends Katerina on. Ben’s even more surprised when she teams up with Audrey and the two girls start passing to each other.
Braedon boots the ball long and it lands between Audrey and Tommy. Ben wills Audrey to win the ball. Tommy shoves her, and, for once, she pushes back, but this is what the ref sees, and she gets penalised when it ought to be Tommy. Fuming, Ben slashes the flag against his leg.
Tommy lines up for the free kick.
‘Good work, Tommy,’ Darren yells. ‘Go, go. Big kick. Braedon’s there.’
Tommy smashes the ball to Braedon who traps it with his chest in a nice show of skills. But Griffin tackles the ball away and passes to Viktor. The field opens up. Audrey is in position on the left wing.
Ben can’t help himself. ‘Run!’ he calls to her, dashing alongside and pointing.
Her eyes flash into his and she takes off. But Viktor keeps dribbling with his head down. He’s too far out to score—anyone can see it—and there’s a wall of Bears in front of him, but he keeps trying, even though it’s impossible.
‘Come on. Pass!’ Ben hisses.
Griffin races through the centre, yelling, ‘Over here.’
Viktor zigzags with the ball, trying to get the goal for himself.
‘Go, Viktor!’ Santos shouts. ‘Shoot! Shoot!’
Tommy barges in and deliberately boots the ball out of play over the sideline. A lost opportunity for the Minotaurs because of bloody Viktor. Ben peers down the field and sees Santos slam a fist into his hand and turn away.
‘Why didn’t you pass?’ Griffin growls at Viktor. ‘I was there!’
‘Couldn’t see you.’
‘Yes, you could. Pass next time.’
Ben stands on the line, so close he can see the sweat on the boy’s brow, smell the sour tang of it. Griffin takes the throw-in and tosses the ball to Audrey. She takes off with it down the line, but Tommy intervenes and races straight for her. Usually she’s good at one-on-one, but he steals the ball off her and keeps going. ‘Come on, Audrey,’ Ben says beneath his breath.
She scrambles after Tommy, but he breaks clear. Minotaurs swarm everywhere. ‘Don’t let him shoot!’ bellows Dominik from the technical area.
Tommy takes two touches and boots the ball over the goalie’s head and into the net.
Ben has to watch the Bears erupt and hug each other. Cody tips his head back and roars ‘You little beauty!’ to the heavens, pumping a fist like Lleyton Hewitt on a tennis court. But Darren’s triumphant cheer is worst of all. It echoes across the grounds and gouges Ben’s stomach like a blade.
After that, it’s a Minotaurs kick-off, and the players go out hard, trying to build momentum. But where’s Audrey? Why is she hanging back? Didn’t she listen to his pep talk this morning?
His pulse accelerates as Griffin dashes towards the goal with the ball. But behind him, there’s a sickening thud.
He spins to see Audrey in a face plant with Braedon sprawled on top of her. How did she let that happen? She wasn’t even on the ball so she shouldn’t have been anywhere near Braedon.
The ref blows his whistle to stop play then shows Braedon the yellow card—so maybe it wasn’t Audrey’s fault after all.
She lies there so long Ben’s hands start to sweat. He glances at Jonica who’s over with Claire. She’s holding a hand over her mouth, Claire’s arm around her shoulders.
He’s relieved when Audrey rolls over and Griffin helps her up. But there’s something wrong. Has she done an ankle?
She limps over to the technical area.
‘Stop time-wasting,’ Cody shouts. ‘Come on, ref. Get the game going.’
He glares at Cody. ‘She only needs a moment.’
‘She’s already had it.’
Furious, Ben moves away. He can understand how someone might deck Cody—the man sure knows how to press your buttons.
He notices players gathering in restless groups, muttering among themselves while the coaches inspect Audrey’s ankle. At last, they decide to let her stay on. But everyone is edgy after so much waiting, especially Braedon and Viktor who tug at each other’s shirts and hiss insults.
The ref pips his whistle.
Audrey takes the free kick and knocks a cross to Griffin who pivots and takes aim. Ben hears the sound of boot connecting with ball and knows it’s good. The ball arcs into the net. Top right corner. And it’s one-all. Exactly what was needed.
He curls a fist and bounces it in front of his chest while the Minotaurs dash in to rejoice, piling on top of Griffin who grins bashfully. But among the cheering, Ben hears a rough voice shouting: ‘Offside, ref! That was offside.’ He spins to see Cody gesticulating.
‘Hey, ref!’ Cody bellows. ‘That was offside. I could see it with my own eyes. Where’d you get your qualifications? Out of a Weet-Bix packet?’
Darren starts shouting too. Then Luka struts, pigeon-chested, across the field to confront the ref, even though he’s not supposed to. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Luka barks, waving his hands in the air. ‘We need a proper ref. You’re not old enough for this job.’
Ben casts around for the ref’s coordinator, but can’t see him anywhere. He catches the flash of panic in the ref’s eyes and hurries over to support him. ‘Come on, Luka,’ he says. ‘Let it go.’
‘It was a bad decision. He shouldn’t be reffing at this level. I’ll put in a report.’
‘You do that, Luka, but it’s time to get on with the game. The players are waiting.’
Luka storms back to the technical area and Ben returns to the sideline. But as he waits for the ref to start play, he’s churning inside. No matter what happens now, someone is going to dispute it.
The whistle blasts and the Bears charge forward. Braedon lobs the ball to Tommy who sprints into space, all alone, and slams the ball into the net. But it’s clear he ran out way too early and was miles offside. Ben thrusts his flag in the air. The ref calls, ‘Offside!’
‘What?’ Luka screams. ‘That was a goal.’
Parents jeer and boo. Cody raises a threatening fist. Darren is yelling too.
Ben feels the heat of their anger rising from the sideline. Tommy and Braedon rush up to him, yelling, ‘That wasn’t offside!’
Bears players surround him, feeding off the parents, shouting, Come on, take it back, it wasn’t offside. He sees the dark hollows of their mouths as they lean into their conviction, rage so potent he can almost taste it. He’s like a policeman under siege. The boys are behaving like animals. He holds firm. A cockatoo screeches over.
‘Minotaurs to take the kick,’ the ref calls.
Ben points his flag to the spot where the kick is to be taken on the other side of the field. There’s a moment of silence in which the back of his neck prickles. He can smell dirt and damp grass, a hint of lamb on the breeze.
Viktor sets the ball on the ground, backs up and prepares for his run-up.
There’s a flash of movement. Ben turns to see Braedon stampeding towards Viktor. ‘Watch out, Viktor!’ someone yells.
Viktor whirls around as Braedon slams into him. He staggers, then shoves back, screaming ‘Fuck off!’, murder in his eyes.
