1
The last thing Grandad said as I left to play soccer was, “Don’t let them drag you down to their level. Remember the rules of the game.”
So when Hawler the Mauler crushed Flyin’ Brian’s hand, and I started the brawl, I knew I’d have to keep it a secret from Grandad.
Brunswick Valley School’s games against St. Croix Middle School are always tough, but this one had been ferocious. Brian, our goalkeeper, had been pushed several times before the Mauler stepped on his hand. Tiny Jones had tripped Julie and pulled her long, blond hair when she tackled him. The St. Croix players and spectators had teased us throughout the game. Whenever our fullback Toby — who’s a bit overweight — got the ball, they’d yell, “Yay, Fats!” and “Go, Lard boy!” They taunted Julie by chanting “Blondie” every time she touched the ball.
I hate getting dragged into a fight, because there’s never any glory in it, only bruises and bad feelings. And I hate going against the rules of the game. Rules are rules, as Grandad always says. But as captain of a soccer team I can’t stand by and watch the other side trample on my goalie. So when the Mauler stamped on Brian’s fingers, then grinned at his teammates, I head-butted him in the stomach. I didn’t even think about it — which was probably good, because I might have changed my mind, seeing as Hawler’s bigger than me. While he was doubled up, I grabbed his hair and was about to mash his face with my knee when his sidekick, Doozie Dougan, grabbed me from behind.
Hawler snarled, “You asked for this, Shay Sutton.”
The referee blew his whistle, but it was too late.
I saw Hawler aim his fist toward my stomach, but Magic, one of our forwards, appeared and took the blow in his open hand without flinching. At the same time Dougan gasped, released me, and collapsed.
“Are you okay, Shay?” Toby asked. He leaned over Dougan and said, “Sorry, Doozie. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”
Doozie growled and lunged at Toby, while Hawler swung at Magic. The referee’s whistle sounded louder this time. Toby tumbled backwards, grabbing Doozie and taking him down with him, while Magic, weaving smoothly, easily avoided Hawler.
The referee ordered, “Time out, Brunswick Valley! Go to your bench. You, too, St. Croix. Coaches, get your teams under control.”
Miss Little, our coach, pushed her big round glasses back — they were always slipping down her nose — and shook her finger at us, scolding, “Now, children. You know that is not the way to behave.”
That’s how she talks to us — as if we were little kids. She talked to us like that in kindergarten and she still talks to us that way. It’s as if we’re still five years old. If we didn’t like Miss Little so much for other things it’d probably drive us crazy. But as it is, we don’t mind. In fact, we kind of like it.
Miss Little flapped her hands, shooing us towards our bench as if we were a herd of sheep.
As all the players headed off, the referee threatened, “I’ll be reporting this disgraceful exhibition to both your principals.”
The St. Croix coach lectured his players, “I’ve warned you before about fighting …”
Hawler interrupted. “They started it. Shay Sutton butted me for no reason.”
The St. Croix coach called, “You heard that, referee. They started it.”
The referee turned to Miss Little. “Your players started the brawl.”
Miss Little retorted, “They were provoked.”
“I don’t care if they were provoked. They started the brawl, and I hold Brunswick Valley School responsible for it,” the referee said.
Hauler and Doozie smirked.
The referee decided to end the game, since there were only two minutes left and the score was level.
We sat on our bench, heads hanging. Everyone knew we’d let down Miss Little. She’s always taught us to play with dignity and grace, no matter what happens in the game. I sneaked a look at her. She was standing in front of us with her hands clasped.
I guessed it was my job as captain to say something. “Sorry, Miss Little.”
Toby, beside me, mumbled, “Sorry, Miss L.”
Julie, on the other side, said, “We forgot about dignity and grace, didn’t we?”
A chorus of apologies followed from the rest of the team.
Miss Little sighed. “That’s all right, dears. You were seriously provoked. Let’s just hope the principal sees it that way.”