PART III - Chapter 42: IT'S CALLED FOOTBALL, NOT SOCCER

Chapter 42

It’s Called Football, Not Soccer
(Ó 2010)

An hour later Logan, Cosette and Miriam sat together on the white marble bench that was placed in front of Lily’s gravesite, Logan sat stoically, looking at the portrait of his late beloved that was engraved onto the lavender colored granite marker that he had specially designed. They all sat quietly for some moments when Cosette turned to Logan and asked, “Logan, you said a little while ago that you have many bad memories. Don’t you have any good ones from your time in the Legion?”

Logan smiled and answered, “Oh, yes, I do have many of those.”

“Why don’t you tell us one of those then?”

He began to rub the top of his head and his smiled grew larger, “Oh, I have one that stands out the most, I think about all the time. It was how I learned to play football.”

Miriam perked up, “Oh yes, tell us about that!”

“It’s ironic because it too happened while I was in Djibouti; in fact it was the first time I was sent there. I was with the 13^th Half Brigade. I was sent to this little remote base right on the beach of the Gulf of Tadjoura. It was where I was to learn hand to hand combat and hand weapons, you know, bayonets and garrotes and such. It was a simple base with open barracks that were screened in. I shouldn’t have to tell you that the training was constant and rigorous. We were constantly being paired up to fight one another and sometimes we would not hold back. And just to add to it, there was this hill that went up about four hundred feet, if you messed up or was not performing to the Sergeant-Chef standards, you had to pick up a rock that was about twelve to fifteen pounds and run to the top of the hill and back down again.” Logan paused for a moment and then smiled, “Oh yes, the Sergeant-Chef, his name was - - -

 

“- - - Travis, Sergeant-Chef Quentin Travis and as far as I could make out he was from the London area because he had a very thick cockney accent. The Sergeant, along with his Corporal, had an passion for soccer. They would be constantly playing one on one with each other, or would get together with some of the locals and have a friendly game between them and the Legionnaires. I, being the new Legionnaire there, and it was my first station of duty; I was susceptible to some of the rumors that the veteran Legionnaires would spread to me. You know, things like ‘getting ready to drink your eggs and eat your coffee’ type things. But there was one rumor that proved to be true, and that was that you would never want to be placed in ‘The Net’.
 

“The Net was a soccer goal, and the game Sergeant-Chef Travis and his Corporal would play was to place a Legionnaire that messed up somehow into the net as a goalkeeper. Travis and his corporal then would start at the half way line of the pitch, coming forward, passing the ball to each other. They would then take a total of ten shots on the goal. The poor bastard that was placed in the net had to do his best to keep the ball from going into the net. The punishment was that for each goal scored, the Legionnaire had to pick up one of the large racks that were lying in a pile, as I said they weight anywhere from twelve to twenty pounds. They would then have to proceed up and down that four hundred foot hill. There was a pole at the top of the hill. So the punishment was, for every goal scored against him, the Legionnaire had to pick up a stone and strut it to the top of that hill, and circle around the pole to come back down again. Needless to say because of the great skill of the Sergeant-Chef and his Corporal the Legionnaire was lucky to block any goal at all. The punishment was exhausting.

“When I heard guys saying that ‘you don’t want to go into the net’ I did my best to avoid it and tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. But that in itself proved to be impossible. One morning I was busy cleaning the barracks and I was watching as the Sergeant-Chef and the Corporal were in their usual one-on-one game. I paid no attention and tried to make myself not noticed. I was really concentrating on my cleaning work; I was scrubbing the cement floor and began pushing the water out with a large push broom. I was pushing the water to the entry door and gave it one last hard push; I did not see Sergeant-Chef Travis standing in the doorway and the water splashed right onto his football boots.

“I looked up and I felt my stomach go into my throat. I immediately snapped to attention. The Sergeant-Chef, with his thick cockney accent said, ‘Wal, jis wat da fuk do we av ear?’ He then began to circle around me. “Youse bin keepin to yaself a lot Legionnaire, wuts the matter, you aint friendly?’

“I answered, ‘No Sergeant-Chef.’

“‘Oh so yous ain’t friendly’

“‘I mean yes Sergeant-Chef, I am friendly.’

“He turned to his Corporal and said to him, ‘Look at this, I believe we av ourselves a bloody Yank ere.’ I stood silent and the Sergeant-Chef began to circle around me all the time staring at me. ‘Is thet wat you are? A bloody Yank?’

“I answered, ‘I’m from the North American continent yes.’

“He turned to the corporal and said, ‘Do yuz ere that? E’s frum the Nowth Amerikin contnent.’ He continued to circle around me and asked me, ‘Wuts yor name Legionnaire?’

“I answered ‘Morrow Sergeant-Chef, Legionnaire Morrow.’

“He continued to circle and asked me, ‘Anser me sumthin Legionnaire Morrow, just ooo’z the greatest futball team in the world?’

“I was kind of taken aback, I didn’t know what to say so I gave him the only answer that I had, and I said, ‘Uhh, the Oakland Raiders?’

“Travis looked a bit confused and asked, ‘Ooo the fuk are the Oakland Raiders?’

“My favorite football team back in the States.’

“He began to look angry at me at said, ‘Do yous mean dat pansy version of rugby that yous Americans play with the ed gear and paddin?’

“I said ‘Yes Sergeant-Chef.’

“He looked at me sternly and said, ‘I aint talkin about dat American gridiron shyt,’ he the looked to his corporal and held out his hands where then the corporal tossed him a soccer ball, ‘I’m talking about this, real futball. Ooo’z the greatest fuking futball team in the world?’

“I made the mistake of answering, ‘Oh, you mean soccer.’

“His face snapped at me and he stepped up right in front of me. He cupped his hand, brought it to his mouth and shouted into it, ‘It’s called FUTBALL! NOT FUKIN SOCCER!’ He then took his cupped hand and slapped me on the side of my head, like he wanted to drive the words he just said right into my skull. It worked. He then cupped his hand again and spoke sternly into it, ‘The greatest futball team in the wuld is ARSENAL … the ROYAL ARSENAL of I-bury Englund.’ and then slapped those words into the side of my head. He then looked me up and down and asked, ‘you involved with eny atletics where you cum frum Legionnaire Morrow?’

I answered yes, that I played our version of football back in America, and that I played baseball. He asked what positions and I answered that I was an outfielder and shortstop in baseball, and a wide receiver and linebacker in our football.

“‘Were youse any good?’ He asked. I answered that yes, I thought I was pretty good. He then said, ‘Well then, let us jus see ow you are with a real sport, I believe that you have never paid a visit to the net, av you?’

“‘No Sergeant-Chef.’

“‘Meet me and me Corporal on the pitch in ten minutes time.’

“‘You mean on the field?’ That was another mistake.

“He cupped his hand again and screamed into it saying, ‘It is a PITCH … not a FIELD!’ And slapped those words into my head. He and the corporal then left abruptly and made their way to the pitch where they were going to warm up and make their strategy on me. I knew that they would not be happy until they had me doing those ten trips up and down that hill with that rock in my arms. So, I just began to accept that I was going to spend the rest of the day going up and down that hill.

“Some other Legionnaires then came into the barracks and they looked at me with a humorous pity. Everybody has been a victim of the Sergeant-Chef and the Corporal, my turn just happened to come along. I decided to just go out to the pitch and get it all over with. I reported to the pitch early and saw Travis and his Corporal practicing foot volleys. Travis saw me and called me over to him. ‘So, decided to cum a bit early did ye? Okay Morrow, ere’s ow this little challenge is dun. Me and me Corporal ere, we start at the circle at mid pitch, we go through our usual magnificent moves towards you in the goal. We do this ten times, and for each goal that we are going to score on youse, you have to march up the hill with a stone of our choice. You will march completely to the top and circle the pole there, once you come down you will stand at attention in front on me, place the stone down at me feet, return to attention where you will ask for my order to do yur next round. Do ye understand Legionnaire?’

“Yes Sergeant-Chef.’ I answered. ‘May I have a few moments to stretch and loosen up sir?’

“‘Well by all means do Legionnaire, I’ll tell you when we will commence.’

“I walked over to the net and began to stretch my arms and legs. Kicking them over my head. I also began to turn my mindset to that of the Lakota Sioux. To concentrate, to watch, to open my senses, I believed this would help me through this somewhat, and for the ten times that I was about to travel up that hill. In a few moments, Travis yelled out to me that they were about to start. I put myself at the ready; I was as ready as I was ever going to be. One thing that I kept running through my head was that I was thinking about tomorrow, and how I would be trying to make this event as humorous as possible.

“The Corporal tapped the ball to Travis and they spread apart, passing the ball beautifully from one man to another. They then drew inward to the pitch passing the ball much faster between each other. I kept watching the men, and as the came into the penalty box, the corporal popped the ball into the air where Travis then did a vicious in air side kick. I heard the wind making a whirring sound as it went past me and into the net. I turned and just looked at the ball in the net; it was spinning slow as it came to a complete stop. Travis then stood beside me looking at the ball also. So I tried to make it funny, I said, ‘Okay, one to nothing.’ Another mistake.

“Travis the brought his cupped hand to his mouth and sternly said, ‘The proper term is NIL…not NOTHING’ … not ZERO!’, and then he slapped those words this time on the back of my head. He and the Corporal then made their way back to the mid pitch circle for round two. However, I did teach myself something on that first goal, to watch the ball, not the player.

They started out again, this time the passes were combined with some hesitation moves. They would stop, slow down, hold the ball to themselves, do some juke moves and the pass the ball, the other would then do the same thing. I just fixated my eyes on the ball and concentrated there. Finally Travis passed the ball to the Corporal, he was to my right, he would hesitate, come forward, and then he went more to the outside. There he set up a strike and kicked the ball perfectly. Things were in like slow motion to me, the ball was traveling well to my left, but it had an inward spin to it. I first thought the ball would travel wide of the net, but the spin was causing it to curve. I then reacted, the ball was headed to the upper corner of the net to my left, I leapt in the direction and at the right moment I jumped sideways in the air, just like when I played wide receiver, and I caught the ball with both my hands, fell to the ground and rolled up onto my feet. I looked at the ball in my hands and I felt so relieved. I then looked at Travis, and he seemed a bit perplexed. I then rolled the ball back to him. That catch also caught the attention of the other Legionnaires and they started to make their way towards the pitch to watch what would happen next.

“The next attempt was Travis doing a dead ahead strike that would go just over my head. I leapt upward and hit the ball with my open palm, sending it well over to top bar and behind the net. I jogged behind the net to retrieve the ball and I came back and again rolled it to Travis. He looked at me with a bit of anger; I just let it go by. I was just happy that I was only going to go up the hill eight times rather than ten. However, that proved to be wrong. As the challenge went on, Travis and the Corporal only managed to score on me just two more times for a total of three. The Legionnaires who now were on the sidelines cheered loudly after it was over. Travis gave them a stare of daggers and told them to be quiet. He ordered them to go back to their daily routines. He then looked at me and said ‘You, you stand at fukin attention.’ He came up to me and his face was just three inches from mine and he asked in a whispering tone, ‘Av youse been yankin me chain Morrow? Av youse been lying to me?’

“‘Lying Sergeant, what would I be lying about?’

“‘Youse as played the game avent you? You were a fukin goalkeeper some where’s avent you?’

“‘No, no Sergeant-Chef, on my honor as a Legionnaire, I have never played a game of soc, - - - uh, I mean football in my life. I swear to you.’

“Travis then looked me over up and down and then turned to the Corporal and said, ‘Well then Corporal. It luks as tho we av a fukin natural ere.’ Travis then stepped back away from me.

“I then asked, ‘May I be dismissed then Sergeant-Chef?’

“Travis then had a big smile come across his face, ‘Dismissed, you want to be fukin dismissed? Aren’t youse fergettin sumthin? We scored three goals on you mate, you owe me three trips up that fukin ill.’ So, as it was I spent the next two hours doing my penance on the hill. Travis just happened to find a rock that weighed about twenty pounds, but I went up three times and came down three times. Each time stopping in front of Travis to asked for permission to go up again. However, I did notice on the three trips down from the hill, the other Legionnaires giving silent hand signs of encouragement, they were quietly cheering me on. They told me later on why.

“It turned out that I was the only guy in the history of ‘The Net’ to even stop a goal, let alone seven. Later on after that evenings duties I found myself sitting outside of my barracks. I was sitting on a bench and wouldn’t you know it, there was a soccer ball up against the stone wall of the barracks. I got up and picked it up and then set it on the ground. I began to play around with it by kicking it against the wall and trying to stop it with my feet. I was doing this for about fifteen minutes when I kicked the ball and it took an awkward bounce off the wall and went way outside on my left. I turned around to run after it when I found Sergeant-Chef Travis standing behind me. ‘Just wut the ell do youse think yer doin Morrow?’

“I answered him with a question, ‘Just how do you play this game sir?’

“He stepped up to me and stood just a few inches from my face, he placed his fists on his hips and said, ‘Youse serious Morrow? Becuz I av to tell yas, I wuz quite impressed by what I saw wit yaz did out on the pitch today. You sure yaz never played the game?’

“‘Never Sergeant-Chef, I just saw it a couple of times back where I came from.’

“Travis then said, ‘Alright, meet me and the corporal out on the pitch tomorrow after the morning corvee, I think youse as wut it takes to be a decent goalkeeper at least. And I could always use one of those.’

“‘Yes Sergeant-Chef.’

“He then turned away, took a few steps, stopped and then turned back to me and asked, ‘Furst lesson, answer me this, oooz is the greatest football club in the wuld?

“I answered him, ‘Why the Royal Arsenal of course’ - - -
 

- - - “So the following day Sergeant-Chef Quentin Travis took me out on the pitch and began coaching me in the fine art of football. He was quite a different man when he was out on the pitch, especially when he was coaching and teaching me the game, he was very passionate about the game, and it was like religion to him. I did become his goalkeeper, ‘the best I ever ad’, as he would say. I told you of him before, it was when I was on that mission in Zaire. He was my Sergeant-Chef there. He killed that little boy that shot me in my leg. ‘Little Bastard, almost killed me best goalkeeper’, that was him.”

The morning was growing late, Logan looked at Lily’s headstone for a few more minutes and then spoke to it, “Well Lil Girl, I think I’ll take our friends here to breakfast, I’ll see you later sweets.”