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The Heart of Champions

The fury in my gut. The spinning in my head. Even on the bench, I was still sweating as much as the players on the field. The shrill whistle finally blew. Restless groans sounded from The Forbes Tornadoes, their frowning expressions were enough to tell you the story. The changeroom was a blur of grumbling, unsatisfied players.

“3-0 isn’t good enough! We need to try harder. We’re missing something.” Coach Galver’s voice sliced through my mind like a dagger. “We’re missing dedication, and chemistry. We can’t be afraid to shoot!” I sighed. I knew that I, Samira Elbaz, would never be put on the field to play a proper competitive game. The idea just sounded too unrealistic. I was a professional benchwarmer. That was until the 3rd of May 1972, round 3 of the Australian Proctor Cup.

The anticipation of the crowd on the sidelines of the Forbes Tornadoes at the Proctor Cup was enough to flip my stomach upside down. Our star striker Riley Bulomaro went down, letting out a shriek of pain as they carried him off onto the sidelines. Coach Galver looked down at me and raised one eyebrow, looking skeptical as he nodded at the field. Stunned, I staggered to my feet, my heart racing a million miles per hour. My stumbling feet jogged onto the field. I held our previous striker’s position. Mum screamed excitedly from the sidelines shouting praises and encouragement. Thoughts raced through my head, but before I had time to doubt myself, the ball was at my feet. I blocked everything out and brought my focus on the here and the now. I dribbled the ball further and further up the pitch. Riley had recovered quickly and looked just about ready to go on the field again when I did something I’d never even dreamed of doing. The goalkeeper's fierce face looked down at me. It was entirely unexpected, the ball rocketed between the goalkeeper's legs. The disbelief on my face was clearly visible to the crowd, a crowd of a dozen that is, but who cares. It was the biggest crowd I’d ever played in front of (which is noone at all). At half time I was approached by Riley Bulomaro. His frowning
expression unwelcoming.
“There’s no place for you on this team. It was a lucky goal. This is my team, and I’m asking you now to leave.” He left me standing there, startled, eyes wide. It was only a matter of time before I proved him.

The next two goals, I was proudly responsible for. I walked off the pitch with the other ten players, my smile broader than the pacific ocean. As soon as I reached my mum she was already on the phone to dad telling him the whole story, and maybe exaggerating a few details.

That week at training I was surprised to find out that I would be starting the next game on the field. It would be my full game after sitting on the bench for two years!

My connections with the players grew stronger and in no time Riley Bulomaro knew that he had serious competition. Drill by drill, Coach Galver worked us harder. “You’ve got to want to win the game.” Week after week we would chant ‘1, 2, 3, All 4 One!’ This was our motto. And week after week we would work our way up the table, hungry for more, our scores rocketing every game. One evening after the final drills, an excited buzz spread throughout the team. Mumbling in groups, I could make out them saying, “Only the Perth Furies ahead of us, we have a chance of winning.”

The finals came around the corner in a flash and soon enough we were on a plane to Perth. I dreamt about the glory we would have in just a few more sleeps.The two days passed quickly and before I knew it we were walking onto the pitch, the hunger clear in our eyes as we stood in position ready to play the Australian 1973 Proctor Cup finals. I was called over by the referee.

My eyes watered as I heard the news. The choice was mine. I could leave my team to play in the Australian Proctor Cup Finals or go back to Forbes immediately to see my mum in hospital. Mum’s cancer had taken a sudden turn and she was now sicker than ever before. She’d always been here to cheer me on but this time, I knew it was my turn. There was no turning back now. I had made my decision and I knew it was the right one. I walked out of the stadium trying not to tear up in front of the crowd of a lifetime. I remembered the first time I had played there had been only a few locals watching, and now I had a whole stadium waiting to see what move I would make next. I thought that soccer was my life's dream but maybe this wasn’t really what I wanted. All I had here was the ball, a goal and opportunity, but what I realized now was back in Forbes I had more. In Forbes I had a home, I had friends and most importantly, I had family. I knew that by not playing I would let my team down, but that would finally give my arch enemy Riley Bulomaro another time to “shine”. It all fitted together nicely. I had to leave.

I reflected on all of this on the plane back and I soon arrived at the hospital. My mum was still weak but I could tell she needed me there. Spending that time with her was all I needed to feel complete. Soccer is an amazing game once you get to know it, but the best part about the game by far is telling the story afterwards. All 4 One isn't just a war cry before the beginning of a game. It's a way of bringing us together in the game we love. Soccer is a game of spirit, a game of passion and teamwork. So what do you say? All 4 One on the count of three?