Soccerheads

Soccerheads Frank Bogna

  © Copyright 2014 Frank Bogna

  The right of Frank Bogna to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Australian Copyright Act 1968.

  It remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

  Mention of specific organisations in this book does not denote endorsement by the publisher nor that the organisations endorse this book.

  Series, illustration and design copyright 2014 by Frank Bogna

  Cover design: Tom Marshall

  Illustrations by Frank Bogna

  A special thanks to Caitlin, Phoebe, William, Alexander, Amelia, Rosanna and Alex for reviewing the book. You kids are awesome!

  Other titles in the Soccerheads series:

  Soccerheads

  Soccerheads 2: Double Trouble

  Soccerheads 3: At the Academy

  Soccerheads 4: The climb back up

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – We are the Soccerheads

  Chapter 2 – First game

  Chapter 3 – Don’t just boot it

  Chapter 4 – Too much ammo, Hammo!

  Chapter 5 – Marchflies get bitten

  Chapter 6 – The Rotten Roosters

  Chapter 7 – Kids from outer space

  Chapter 8 – Oh no, not Lefty!

  Endnote – Why ‘Soccer’ and not ‘Football’

  About the Author

  Books in the Soccerhead series

  Connect with the author online

  1.We are the Soccerheads

  The hum deepened as Buck accelerated, the gap between him and the goal closing fast. His whirring hum changed into a droning truck. Buck the truck, shifting gears into overdrive.

  ‘Dghshhh, Gghhsshhh, Chuggah Chuggah’ boomed Buck as he bolted down the field. Two midfielders cringed and cowered away. A brave defender tried a tackle. Ping! Catapulted into oblivion.

  The ball thundered into the back of the net, and so did Buck, its mesh pressed firmly against his cheeks. Too much acceleration, too little brake. Buck is a truck. Buck is a Soccerhead, and so am I. I just wish I was more like Buck, more like the other Soccerheads.

  #

  My name is Sammy. I am just an ordinary kid living in an ordinary place called Urbanville, somewhere in Australia.

  Nothing else has been so ordinary lately. Things have changed. Big time. Ever since I moved house, came to live in Urbanville and I joined the Soccerheads.

  Last year, I was nobody, just another kid playing for Mooshy United Soccer Club, but like I said, things have changed. Now, I’m a Soccerhead, just like Buck and all the other Soccerheads.

  Let me explain. I’ve started playing for a new team The kids have got more zing and zip, more skill and style than you will see just about anywhere. I want to be as good as they are, and maybe one day I will be. But for now, I’m on their team, they’re becoming my new friends and that’s what counts.

  We have a normal team name, the Unicorns. You’ll see that one at our club and in the League Ladder. Our real name, our secret name is the ‘Soccerheads.’

  When I first heard it, I went berserk. Internally berserk. That’s when your brain’s about to go pop!

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ I said to myself. That’s an awesome name.

  The Soccerheads have made a pact to never ever share their name with anyone. No grown-ups, no other kids and not even Mr C, our coach.

  When I first started training with them, they took a whole two weeks to tell me their secret name!

  Two weeks!

  ‘We didn’t know if we could trust ya,’ said Hammo, the first Soccerhead to make friends with me.

  Only our team mascot Ruff knows our real name. He can never tell anyone though, because he is a dog. Ruff comes to training and most games. That is a picture of Ruff and me. That’s me on the right.

  I never had many friends until I joined the Soccerheads. I was a bit jittery about joining a new team, you know, moving from another part of town. Mum and Dad broke up last year and we had to move house.

  Mum took me to the sign on for the Unicorns. You should see the size of the club when we turned into the car park. Three big fields. Change rooms. A big canteen. It was huge. Mooshy had nothing. Just one Mooshy soccer field.

  Those butterflies in my belly were getting extra jittery, so I dreamed up a heap of excuses.

  ‘I really don’t want to play Mum.’

  ‘They’ve got enough players.’

  ‘Their coach will be hopeless.’

  Mum wouldn’t listen, so I piled on the pain with some pretty good reasons.

  ‘I don’t want to go Mum. I’ll muck it all up and then the kids won’t like me. The team won’t want me.’

  ‘They’ll all be too good for me.’

  ‘They won’t like me because I’m new.’

  Mum wouldn’t listen.

  ‘You’re going Sammy. It’s the closest club and I can’t be running you all over town.’

  Mum was right, although I wouldn’t tell her that. You don’t go around telling Mum and Dad they’re right. Then they’ll start thinking they’re smarter than you!

  I came into the team during pre-season this year, just after we moved to Urbanville. I thought I would be ignored when I turned up for my first training session. You know, a new kid and all that. Man oh man was I surprised.

  ‘Hey Sammy, come and play with us,’ said Hammo shortly after I arrived.

  Then Hammo and the others cornered me in the goal box. Time for fifty questions.

  ‘Where ya from Sammy?’

  ‘Ah, Mooshy Meadows way over the other side of town.’

  ‘Where have yer played?’

  ‘Oh, just for Mooshy United. They weren’t much of a club.’

  ‘Who’s ya favourite team?’

  ‘The Socceroos, and Campo Alto in the Seria A in Italy.’

  ‘Campo who???…oarrrr neva mind’ butted in Buck. Buck’s pretty basic in the speaking department.

  ‘Who’s ya favourite player?’

  ‘Tim Cahill. Best Socceroo ever.’

  ‘What’s ya favourite position?’

  ‘Oh, just in the backs. I can’t dribble that much,’ the last answer giving away my weakness. Ah well, they would have found out anyway.

  At least I wasn’t ignored like at my old club.

  Girls started talking to me.

  Girls!

  I’ll tell you about that one later on.

  Hammo and Buck looked after me straight away, telling me a bit about each player and our coach, buddying up with me in the drills and giving me tips.

  ‘How long have you been with the club?’ I asked.

  Hammo had been with the Unicorns since starting in the under sixers, along with Buck, Izzy and Lefty. They used to play four a side back then. He says he’s been bashing a wall at home with soccer balls for years and that’s how he got his ‘ammo,’ which is short for ammunition. He can really smash a ball and everyone calls him Hammo Ammo.

  Buck was less descriptive.

  ‘Aahhh, forever, basically.’

  Buck’s pretty basic in the speaking department.

  Not long after that, Ruff joined the team, when I asked Mr C if I could bring him along.

  #

  Being a Soccerhead is awesome.

  The only problem is, Mr C told me I’m an extra player.

  ‘We don’
t really need another player Sammy. We have a few subs. You can trial with us but I can’t guarantee we’ll keep you on the team.’

  Mr C let out a few ummmms and ahhhhhs as I started getting a sinking feeling. That’s when you feel low and not very good about things, lower than a lizard’s gizzards.

  ‘There has been talk of some players leaving, maybe moving or not wanting to play for us. Mmmmmm. We’ll see.’

  He dropped the shock news to Mum and me after our first training session, just as I was starting to get noticed.

  Two new friends.

  Fifty questions.

  Girls talking to me.

  Oh great. I’d just start to make some friends and then I’d lose them just as quickly too; maybe never even see them again. They might leave or I might be tossed off the team.

  Good grief!

  Moving house is hard enough.

  Making new friends is even harder.

  Losing new friends? I don’t want to even think about it.

  I’ve made it my job, my secret.

  Two secrets.

  I’ve got to start playing better.

  Even if I can’t play that well.

  Please keep me on the team Mr C. Even though I’m the weakest link in the team.

  Then the other secret, to keep us Soccerheads together. My best friends are the Soccerheads; maybe my only friends. That’s my job; keep us together. Keep my new friends together.

  I love my soccer, but more than anything in the world, I want to be with my Soccerhead friends; Hammo, Buck, Giorgio and maybe even some of the girls like Izzy.

  #

  OK, time for introductions.

  Our colours are red, blue and white and we are a team of eleven.

  I wear the number two jersey, can kick with both feet and play as a defender. Mum and Dad got me started years ago playing with Mooshy United under six. I’m an OK player, but I wish I had more skill to play in midfield or even attack. Maybe one day, although that would be scary.

  Being skinny and scrawny, I’m a bit slow in the speed department and we have too many awesome players, so I’m in the back four; part of the impenetrable fortress that is our defence. Well, ummm we do let the odd goal through!

  Someone you must know about is Buck. You would have seen kids dribble a ball smoothly, ducking and weaving with speed and precision. That is not Buck. Buck is a truck. He wears the number five jersey, which means he’s a defender, but Buck goes a bit crazy, transforming himself into a midfielder who likes to take it forward.

  ‘Pass the ball, will yer,’ is about all you will hear from Buck. Yep, Buck is pretty basic in the talking department. If Buck is a bit excited, he’ll get a lisp thing going, that sound like ‘Pattthhh the ball, will yer.’ I’m just warning you now.

  Buck cannot turn, spin, slide or do any fancy stuff with the ball. Buck dribbles in a straight line and that means when Buck has the ball, only the very brave will tackle him. If there is a player in front of Buck, that’s too bad. Most times they tackle and crash, or just run away. Buck is Buck. Buck is a truck.

  Then there is Hammo, my best friend. Lucky for me Hammo goes to my new school. What makes Hammo my best friend? He says funny things, always includes me in everything he does and he sticks up for me.

  Just like the time we were in the line at tuckshop in my first week at my new school. A big kid built like a box on legs pushed in front of me. Hunger will do that to you.

  I was about to feel some pain. Major pain, from getting bashed and pushed to the end of the line. I’m no good at fighting, and wouldn’t start a fight anyway.

  Hammo walked his usual walk, all sway and confidence as he elbowed his way up to him, looked up into his nostrils and let him have it.

  ‘Don’t push in mate, and hey …you’ve got big booger up ya nostril. Move to the back where ya belong.’

  The box on legs started to shake as a worried frown grew over his face, his eyes darting left and right as he shuffled to the end of the line, getting stuck into the booger.

  ‘I just wanted to bash him,’ Hammo told me later.

  ‘You can’t bash kids just because they’ve got big boogers Hammo,’ I replied.

  ‘No Sammy, don’t you get it. He pushed you in line. Stand up for ya self mate, or I will.’

  That’s friendship.

  Hammo got ammo. All the Soccerheads say that Hammo has scored more goals from the halfway line wearing the number four jersey than anyone else in the league.

  Ever.

  Izzy and Maggie told me about Hammo in my first training session. Two girls talking to me at once! Yikes! That never happened at Mooshy.

  ‘If we’re a goal down, Hammo comes out of defence where Mr C likes to keep him under control. He just goes ballistic with his ammo,’ explained Izzy.

  Maggie jumped in.

  ‘Yeah, he says “that’s it” and charges at the ball, turning it into a missile. For real Sammy. It’s a fact. You can feel the “whoosh” of the wind past your head. Hammo’s got ammo.’

  They both paused a little, and then Izzy gave me a warning.

  ‘Just be careful Sammy. Hammo can go nutso sometimes, and you wonder if he’s on the same planet.’

  Gee thanks girls, I said to myself. What does nutso look like?

  Next, there’s Maggie, one of four girls on the team. Yes, we play with girls and we wouldn’t want to be without them. You could easily mistake Maggie for a magpie; you know, just like the bird.

  She’ll sneak up behind you and with a whoosh, take the ball from you… just like a swooping magpie. So she’s called Maggie Magpie. She’s an awesome number six, maybe our best midfielder.

  Giorgio is the team’s goalie, and says he likes to play there because he gets too puffed on the field. He comes from Romania and one of the first things he worked out how to say was ‘toooo much rrrrunning.’

  He wears the number one jersey with pride and loves to dive low. Oh man, he can dive, especially in the mud.

  Another girl on the team is Izzy. Mr C calls her our utility player. That means she can play in any position. She likes to wear the number eight jersey. You need real brains to be a utility player and Izzy has plenty of that. She’s a bit fancy.

  Hammo says that she is a mind reader because she knows where to be for a good pass when you have the ball.

  ‘She’s psychic, Sammy. She knows what I’m going to do even before I know I’m going to do it. I get all dizzy thinking about Izzy. It’s freaky.’

  Hammo is easily spooked.

  I hope she can only read soccer thoughts because otherwise I might get embarrassed. I’ll tell you about that one later.

  As for me I am not a truck, I don’t have much ammo and am a bit slow in the swooping department. I wish I had a bit more of those things, but no one has complained about me, not yet so I must be doing OK, even though I’m the weakest link. I just hope I can keep up, or else I’ll get thrown off the team!

  I can’t wait to start telling you about our games, so you will find out about the rest of the team later on.

  We are the Soccerheads.

  2.First game

  ‘Well that’s your problem Giorgio,’ quipped Hammo.

  ‘Oh, and you defenderrrs and otherrrs…you stop the ball too hey,’ returned Giorgio, stating that the whole team had to defend as his voice echoed and bounced around in the change room.

  Hammo’s hair bristled as he prepared for a comeback.

  All I did was ask about the premiership as we were getting our boots on, and it was like I nearly started a fight!

  ‘That’s all we’ve gotta do, score lots a goals and we can win the premiership,’ Hammo added confidently, his eyes fixed on the soccer ball he was tapping between his hands.

  Then the argument started.

  ‘Oh, we have to stop the ball going into ourrrr goal too,’ said Giorgio, knowing all too well we needed to patch up our leaky defence.

  Hammo and Giorgio are friends but I have noticed real quic
k that they stick it to one another. No holding back there.

  Hammo doesn’t like to have his negative points exposed and never backs down from an argument. I’m going to have to be careful with what I say. The nutso in him was coming out.

  Maybe the girls were right.

  I butted in quickly before Hammo made the situation worse.

  ‘We all have to defend, even the forwards. If we don’t win the premiership, maybe we can win a carnival.’

  Hammo’s all about winning. His eyes lit up as my suggestion distracted him.

  I was doing my job.

  ‘Yeah, it’s all over in a day and we come out winners. That would be awesome,’ he ended as he tied his bootlaces, forgetting all about Giorgio.

  We started the season with a home game at Unicorn Park. That’s the name of the Unicorns Soccer Club home, where we were playing against the Woolly Wanderers.

  A home game.

  Our own field. We know the lumps and bumps. It helps when you’re making a pass.

  Our own change room. Benches, seats, lots of hooks above the benches for your gear and mirrors for your looks. I’ve claimed the best locker, the one with a poster of Tim Cahill stuck on the inside.

  Nothing I was used to with Mooshy United. Mooshy had nothing. Nothing.

  That’s where Giorgio and Hammo started going for each other, in the change room. It sounds all hollow when you’re inside, and their voices were bouncing from wall to wall, echoing louder and louder.

  With the situation under control, we went onto the pitch and started with one-touch passes in the warm up.

  One touch passes! That was a challenge.

  I had the jitters.

  New team.

  New kids.

  What if I miss a pass?

  What if the ball goes boink into no man’s land?

  What if I muck up a tackle or I can’t dribble past a player and lose the ball every time?

  Sammy the weakest link.

  Don’t throw me off the team Mr C!

  Hang in there Sammy. That’s what my Dad says to me when things get tough.

  Hang in there.

  Hhmmmm. Easy for you Dad. You’re not trying to make an impression with a new bunch of kids.