Chapter 3 - In the summer of 2001

It was Saturday morning during the summer of 2001, John Grimshaw escorted his family to the junior league football game. The front windows to John’s 1990 BMW were down in response to the blazing sun outside. A cool wind kissed at John’s sunburnt face, a sunburn he procured after sleeping out in the garden the day earlier. Lucy, who sat in the passenger side displaying her long tanned legs; legs eleven as John would have put it, had found his sunburn mishap as pretty amusing. Names such as ‘Oompa Loompa’ and ‘Cherry face’ were favorites among the carpool this morning.

John glanced up at his naked rear-view mirror to steal a glance at Jamie. His nine-year-old son was still gazing out of the window, his thick brunette fringe pressed heavily against the laminated glass window as the car drifted along. He was in his football kit, and on his lap rested a pair of worn goalie gloves. John didn’t have to be a shrink or one of those fancy psychiatrists to know his son was nervous.

Adjacent to Jamie was Angelina, who sang youthfully to the song on the radio. Single strands of black hair caught in the wind flowed behind her like thin ribbons. Lucy turned to beam at her daughter’s vocals, gently adding her own voice to form a honeyed duo. All the while John listened on, his eyes drifting to nervous Jamie in the backseat.

When they arrived at the football field of Woodside, John felt something tug at his shirt. Turning he saw it was Lucy who wore her most bashful ‘I want something but I’m too embarrassed to ask’ face. It was just one of the many ways in which she could get what she wanted from John, and John often found himself submitting himself to such looks. Following her gaze, he noticed a brightly coloured ice-cream truck parked on a patch of dry grass. Chuckling, he began fetching for his wallet while Angelina pumped her arm at the anticipation of ice cream.

The field stretched out before them like a green carpet. The air was filled with boisterous shouts and cheers, penetrated only by the shrill squeal of a referee’s whistle. Every now and again a heavy thud boomed out and John’s head would turn to trace a football sailing through the air. John looked at Jamie again, his wallet now in hand. Jamie looked out at the display in motion on the field as if staring into a Roman arena; where lightly armoured men fought off hungry lions to avoid being eaten.

“What do you want champ?” John asking fetching a tenner from his wallet. Jamie shrugged, then looked up at his father. Shielding his eyes, he said: “Maybe a Twister?”

“Alright,” replied John, “Two Twister’s and whatever my girls want.”

Lucy smiled fetching the note from his hand. She cast a spirited look at Jamie who was already looking back out over at the bigger kids in play.

“Tackle him!” A strong shout erupted from the game in play. A tall fifteen-year-old boy slid twenty feet from Jamie, taking his opponent to the ground in a spray of dirt and grass.

John assured Lucy with a nod and a wink that said: ‘He’ll be fine' Lucy agreed, revealing a set of white teeth.

“Thank you, Sugar daddy.” She whispered and turned to walk Angelina to the truck. On the way, John heard Angelina asked her what a ‘sugar daddy’ was.

“You okay Jamie?” John asked. He crouched to look out over the scene in view. Football teams were in practice, both in the older and younger age groups, but Jamie seemed to be following the older kids at play as if it were them, he’d be facing against and not the other boys his own age. Jamie turned to face him, his mother’s blue eyes matching the sky above. He managed a grin but that was all. He was just nervous John knew, as all kids have a right to be before a big game.

“You’re gonna be fine J,” John reassured. “It’s normal to be nervous but remember the purpose of all this is to have fun. Now I’ve seen you save goals all week against your mates so if any get past you, we’ll just blame it on the team’s pitiful defense, alright?”

Jamie nodded in agreement giving way to some relief. John clasp his son’s arms and stood. The scent of grass was heavy on the field, bringing John back to the days when he was the one playing football as a youth. By the time Lucy and Angie had returned, John began to feel his sunburn become irritated under the scrupulous intensity of the sunlight. He tried to resolve this by pressing the freshly frozen wrapped Twister to his face. He looked stupid but the temporary relief was worth it.

“Cherry face.” Lucy mimed, spilling a retained laughter from Angie. John stared at his wife, ice lolly still pressed against an inflamed cheek and held out his hand for change.

“Even ten” Lucy shrugged, sucking absently on her own ice lolly, and averting her gaze mockingly.

An hour and a half later, the game was in full swing. Each half would consist of twenty-five-minute play, with the exception of added time, and broken up by a short interval in-between. John, Lucy, and Angie watched eagerly from the sidelines, every now and again cheering or calling out: “JAMIE!” when the ball was saved or knocked away from goal.

John watched his son in reverence and despite the early few minutes where Jamie looked prone to make a mistake on the account of his nerves, he played as good as he’d always played. Even Angie seemed to admire her younger brother at this moment as he dove acrobatically to save an oncoming shot on goal.

When the first whistle signalled the end of the first half, Jamie’s team were leading two goals to one. John watched as his son jogged across the field to reunite with his family. Lucy, her arms outstretched, held a face displaying both satisfaction and relief at her son’s performance.

“That was amazing Jamie!” Lucy screamed giving the surrounding parents a taste of her pride. Jamie squirmed under her embrace; his head lowered in a giddy sort of way but didn’t struggle nearly enough to free himself. Angie clapped energetically next to him, as if proud to simply be his sister.

“Alright, leave the man alone Lucy,” John said. “He’s still gotta get all them cheerleaders after the game, and if they saw him now, what would they think.”

Lucy ignored him and planted a big kiss on Jamie’s right cheek. Seemingly gaining some resolve now, Jamie struggled more defiantly to free himself. Whether by his father’s words, or the aspect of what his teammates would think—being swallowed in his mother’s arms like this, he broke off. He gazed at his father through sun-bleached slitted eyes, hungry for his father’s approval.

“Good job J.,” John said, squeezing his son on the shoulder. “Just one more half to go.”

“Did you see me save the first one?” Jamie asked.

“Oh, we all did mate. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were showing off a little.” John pinched at his son’s chest causing him to retreat a little in a fit of giggles. Shortly after, a whistle blew, and the game resumed.

The game ended four goals to one, with Jamie not conceding any additional goals. The spectators roared their approval at their respected teams’, Jamie’s team we hailed for their victory while the defeated team cheered at simply a good game. Jamie ran, seemingly losing himself in his own pleasure. His friends and fellow teammates surrounded each other, all celebrating as clumsily as nine-year-olds could.

John watched on, admiring his sons resolve in the face of adversity. When the celebrations were over John fully intended to treat his family to a meal at the ‘Hungry Horse’ downtown. He would even promise Jamie a fresh pair of goalie gloves after his amazing performance.

“Dad! Can we stay a little longer? Eric’s dad bought him the new world cup football to play with.” Jamie asked, his face wrapped in excitement.

“Alright champ. Go play for a little bit, and afterwards, we can get some food at the Hungry Horse” John said.

Jamie sped off like a racing horse let out the gate as if every minute with the new football counted. Angie wandered off to conform with a group of kids coagulating under a tree. This spurred John to admire one of the most magical aspects about children, how they often banded together into groups if left alone. While Angie assimilated with the children under the tree, John and Lucy found a patch of dry grass to sit on. The sun was fierce, making John wish he brought his baseball cap.

“How’s that face feeling?” Lucy asked.

“Stop teasing me about it.” Answered John wishing he had another ice cream to soothe the itch.

“My poor baby.” Lucy mocked, pouting her lower lip. She raised a hand to touch the sunburn gently. Her hands were cool and comforting to his raw skin.

“We’ll pop home and get some moisturiser for it. Maybe a hat too.”

“You know,” John said. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

He looked down at Lucy’s legs which stretched out nakedly over the grass, her white skirt pulled low to the knees, and with it he felt something stir inside him. Lucy looked at him bashfully again, only this one not feigned.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” She teased.

“Maybe I wanna do more than just look.” He answered.

“John Grimshaw!” She protested, and John ran a hand up her arm. Her skin was golden from the summer rays and smooth to the touch. He looked out at Jamie playing some distance away, between a field of moving bodies. He glanced at Angie who was now looking up a boy who had climbed said tree, and then he looked at Lucy, her blue eyes gleaming like some forgotten gemstone, and all was right in the world he thought.

An hour later, John and lucy stood to leave. After brushing the back of her skirt, lucy called out to Angie while John waved over Jamie. They united and began leaving the field. Jamie ran ahead, kicking the all too important football between his friends. John grabbed his wife’s hand and reached deeply for the car keys in his pocket.

They were close to the car park now when the sound of tires screeching across gravel cut the air like a knife.

Following this, was what John thought sounded like the cracking of a whip, then a thud. He looked up in time to see people ahead in the carpark freeze and all turn their heads towards the direction of the disturbance. Then a scream yelled out and those close to the noise all ran forward. John saw one man who had been busy packing the boot of his car freeze at the noise, then drop what he was doing to help whatever had happened.

John felt his heart stop for a moment and looked around, anxiously scanning his surroundings. Angie had stopped walking behind him at the sudden sound. Lucy was squeezing John’s hand and Jamie…where was Jamie?

“Jamie!” John cried out, waiting hopefully for him to jump out from behind a parked car, or for one of the many children in front of him to turn their head and reveal themselves to be his son.

“Jamie!” Lucy yelled, taking up the cry more defiantly before darting forward. The disturbance was hidden behind a multitude of cars and as Lucy ran, she stopped, her hands snapping up to her face when she saw. John dashed, moving his legs like pistons to get there, to see what Lucy saw.

Around the bumper of a Ford lay a boy on the ground. The car that had hit him had come to a stop half over him, revealing only the top half of the boy underneath. Its driver side door was open, the driver recently departed. But most noticeable of all was the pink circle drawn on the windscreen. A circle with the shape and circumference of a football, or a child’s skull.

“Oh God no, Oh God no…OH GOD NO! JOHN!” Lucy bellowed, her hands pulling frantically at her golden hair. John paused, letting his brain process the features of the boy caught beneath the car, the body still and lifeless.

The boy wore a football kit and on each hand was a set of goalie gloves, their palms speckled with crimson. Under the boy’s head, a red puddle was emerging and somewhere distant, a world cup football rolled mournfully down the road.