The 11th Player

• Bonaventura Hsu, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2010

The 11th player
The blazing hot sun was surrounded by threatening clouds over the grassy field. A shrilly whistle pierced the silence and eleven players shuffled to their places. The stench of human sweat waffled up the player’s noses and they started to point at me. They were laughing and pinching their noses till an European referee strode into the middle of the pitch.
The second half started and I still didn’t get the ball. During the first half, my team did a good job in ignoring my existence on the field. Only then did I realize I had to tackle the opponent to have it in my possession. With a quick tackle, I finally dribbled the ball forward. Not surprisingly, my team fell back to our own half while I was up front. With a sigh, I weaved in and out of the players until I was face to face with their goalkeeper.
His eyes were full of malice and I faltered. The goalkeeper was so determined to block my shot that he sprinted towards me. I curved the ball around him and it found the back of the net. Nobody cheered. My triumph was short lived when the oversized keeper bowled into me and I fell face down into the moist dirt. I looked expectantly at the referee who looked away. My coach didn’t even come to my defense and pretended to concentrate on encouraging the other boys. He was acting in the same way when I first met him.
Towards the end, an European boy broke through the tight opponent’s defence and continued on to score a goal. Everyone cheered loudly for him. I watched as the players crowded around him and lifted him into the air as the final whistle blew. The coach also went to congratulated him, patting him on the back like he was his favourite son. No one came to congratulate me. Not that I expected any.
As my team marched off to receive their trophy, I stood alone on the middle of the field with two teams on opposite ends. Someone kindly threw a crumbled certificate for participating in the game. I unraveled it and quickly tore it up. With my hands in my pockets, I strode out of the fields. The wind picked up as I shuffled away, picking up the papers.
Suddenly, the billowing papers started nudging me back towards the soccer field. It was as if it wanted me to keep playing. In a flash, I suddenly felt a powerful urge to snap the coach out of his perfect world and expose him to mine. Most importantly, he must acknowledge my talents and abilities. After all, I scored a goal for his team. With a satisfied smile, I puffed out my chest and marched proudly back towards the presentation. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees me again. With one final effort, the dazzling sun burst through the thunderous clouds, flooding the field with its radiance.