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Playground Football

Ash Medhurst

    Arthur never really cared for football. The beautiful game offered him nothing but misery and embarrassment. Mr Kenny Rodgers, the P.E. tutor, barked his orders from the playground. “Line up,” he yelled. “Miller, you’re captain.”
    Charlie Miller was always captain. He was Rodgers’ favourite, his number one student. He was the head of the football team, the school’s sports ambassador, and most importantly, he was a class-act bully.
    Clara Boorman was chosen to be the other team’s captain. She gracefully accepted the role. Clara was the best athlete in the school and this drove Charlie crazy. The two of them constantly battled for supremacy and Clara enjoyed his attempts to overthrow her. He had never managed to do so.
    Arthur hated what came next. During the game, if he played poorly, he could hide behind the fact that he wasn’t really trying. When he was chosen last, as he always was, there was nothing to hide behind. There was only embarrassment.
    Arthur knew that neither captain would want him.
    Clara chose first and her friend, Chloe Smith, joined her on the playground-pitch. Now it was Charlie’s turn. Charlie Miller had himself a gang of prepubescent kids who joined him when terrorising Arthur and the other weaker children. It would only be a matter of time, Charlie would pick his friends and Clara would choose everyone else. Arthur would be left to last.
    “C’mon Arthur,” Charlie called.
    “Huh.”
    Charlie called him again. Arthur struggled to gather himself, managed to do so, and went to stand behind his captain. Charlie patted him on the shoulder as he passed. Arthur stood beaming while everyone else muttered in discontent. Charlie’s friends were not impressed.
    The rest of the team-picking was uniform.
    “Why’d you pick him?” cried Arthur’s new team-mates. “He’s shite.”
    Rodger’s admonished the child’s curses.
    “We need a goaly,” Charlie said. “And I kinda feel bad for him.”
    Arthur had heard this.
    The smile that he once held now faltered. He couldn’t bare for people to feel sorry for him. He’d never strived for popularity but he certainly didn’t want to earn it like this.
    Kenny Rodgers blew his whistle.
    The game was on.
    Rodgers had already judged the school field too waterlogged for use, so the playground would hold the game. Arthur hated playground football. He was always put in goal and whenever he had to dive for the ball, he’d cut his elbows or knees. The playground was so small that kick-off had to occur at the goal. When Arthur’s team kicked-off, Arthur expected to be serving the ball, but no, Ryan McGhee took the kick instead. As the ball flew to a fellow team-mate, McGhee pushed Arthur back between the jumpers.
    Charlie’s team, with Will Morris and the captain up-front, possessed a great strike force. Charlie’s first touch was a volley that slipped between Clara’s legs. It was 1-0 already. Miller’s team were in the lead.
    Clara’s team struck back as Chloe and Lewis Boon both sent balls past Arthur. “Thanks a lot, dipshit,” was the shared toast among his team-mates. Ryan McGhee thumped him in the chest. “Play better,” he ordered as he stomped away.
    Arthur was sick of the game and sick of his team. He had to drop to the left in a bid to stop the keeper’s floating shot. He grazed his elbow as he fell. The ball bounced off Arthur’s chest and fell to the feet of a defender.
    “Get up ya pussy,” she yelled as she dribbled away.
    Play continued and it wasn’t long before Charlie equalised. He celebrated like a professional, enjoying every moment of admiration. “Next goal wins,” Rodgers yelled.
    The players groaned but strived for that all-important goal. For quite a while, nothing really happened. People tackled one another. Sometimes a player went to the ground, other times there was a small fight when a player felt he was tackled unfairly.
    The ball rolled to Arthur.
    He kicked it, quite well, or so he thought, to Brian Collis, who punted the ball high into the air and over the school gate. “You stupid shit,” cried Clara.
    “Watch the language,” said Rodgers.
    “It wasn’t my fault,” Brian said. “Arthur’s pass was terrible.”
    Arthur didn’t try to defend himself. He let them throw the blame at him. He was used to the abuse.
    “Collins, go and get a new ball,” said the teacher.
    Brian Collins promptly returned with a rugby ball.
    “Are you kidding me?” Clara said. “I’ll get a new bloody ball.”
    Clara charged away from the playground, and when she returned, Rodgers said: “One penalty each. Miller, you’re up first.”
    Charlie took the penalty and he took it well. Clara claimed that the ball was high, but, unsurprisingly, Rodgers allowed it. Now it was time for Chloe to kick. Ryan McGhee donned the gloves and stood between the jumpers. “Siiir!” Clara cried. “They’re not using their keeper!”
    “Shut it will ya?” Charlie said. “We don’t wanna lose the game because of Arthur.”
    “Come on Miller. Play fair,” Rodgers said.
    Charlie cursed under his breath and told McGhee to move. “Get in goal, Arthur,” he snapped.
    Arthur thought that his day of football was behind him. This isn’t going to go well, he thought.
    Chloe looked happy to be taking the shot; she loved embarrassing Arthur and she had gotten good at it. This time though, when she kicked the ball, Arthur dropped to his knees, cutting them both, and clutched the ball to his chest.
    “You did it!” Charlie cheered as he stormed towards him.
    The whistle blew.
    The game was over.
    The game was won.
    Arthur was soon surrounded by his team-mates and his smile had returned, if only for a brief moment. He enjoyed the attention, but not enough to forget how and why he was getting it – because the boy, who kicked the crap out of him on a daily basis, suffered a pang of humanity and felt sorry for him.
    Arthur managed to break away from the crowd but Charlie caught up and threw his monstrous arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “You wanna come to the park after school?” he asked. “We’re gonna play another game later.”
    “No thanks,” Arthur said. “I don’t really like football.”

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