Changing Lanes
Rahul Sirsikar tells you the story of a boy who broke the family tradition and pursued his dream.
“Will Manchester united score!?…They always score….” these words were repeating in his head time and time again. This was the first football match that he had ever watched, and how glad he was that he did. He had never been so excited in his life. The two goals scored in the injury time by two players wearing red jerseys had made his adrenaline pump rapidly. Football really was an amazing sport. Miracles happen in life, but this was the first time he had ever witnessed it.
The celebration of the players after the second goal is what gave birth to the joy within him. Something, which he thought, never existed. People jumping, crying, tears of joy…he was so dipped in their joy himself, that he had removed his school jacket and circled it over his head like a windmill.
Now lying on his back, he visualized those images of jubilation and the commentator’s words “Is this their moment”. And he wondered when he will get a moment like that in his life, the time when he will feel the same jubilation and love…
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Sir Vincent, the dinner is been served,” said Malcot, the house butler.
“I will be there in ten minutes Malcot,” replied Vincent. He quickly got up, undressed himself, and ran towards the bathroom for his evening shower.
The Millhouse manor was a house which had tradition engraved in its every stone. The Manor was a hundred and fifty year old cobblestone building; passed over by the elders to their youngest. It contained twenty seven rooms, a horse stable- which housed thirty horses- , and also there were the woods behind the manor which was used as hunting ground by the elders. The Millhouse family had little to worry about money. They owned ten vineyards in the country, two garment factories and also vast amounts of land; which were rented to farmers.
Now in the dining room, the family of thirteen sat around the square rosewood table; but the game still playing itself inside Vincent’s head.
“Yes .Now I know what I have to do…I want to become a footballer. A Good and a respected one, like the ones I saw today,” he thought
“Vincent dear, where is your mind at?” asked his mother, who saw Vincent eating garlic pickle instead of strawberries.
‘HUH!” he said looking annoyed. “Nothing” and kept down his fork.
“Are you planning to join the school Polo team like Andrew and David?” asked Uncle Thomas with his mouthful of chicken
Polo was the family sport of the millhouse. Atleast one member from a generation had played for the country. In this one, they were still searching for a suitable candidate. The youngsters were trained since a small age and were expected to do well in it.
“Not yet, not until I turn twelve,” replied Vincent.
“That’s the age bar to be able to play for the team; the school just put that restriction,” answered David, his cousin who was two years elder to him. “But he will shine once he joins the team, he is a master jockey”
“We have high hopes from you Vincent,” said Vincent’s father from the opposite chair.
“Yes father. I Promise to do as you wish” replied Vincent, with not much enthusiasm
And so the evening conversation of the family continued on lectures about responsibilities and the duties that were expected by the younger generations.
On entering his room after dinner, Vincent downloaded the videos of top 10 footballers in the world. The goals that he witnessed, excited and amazed him. It was not until he reached the videos of the No#1 footballer that his heart started to beat with love for the game; for the way it was played by the player, was mind-blowing. The moves of the player were filled with finesse and perfection. His way of controlling the ball on his feet was nothing less than magic. That night, Vincent slept the most peaceful sleep of his life, for now he had found a path, something he had at last fallen in love with.
On the other end of the world, little did Zenedine Zidane knew, that he had inspired one more youngster…….
The next day was the beginning of a new life for Vincent. He planned of enrolling himself in the under 12 school football team .When he visited the physical education teacher, he was kindly answered “The selections are already done son, its too late now”
This saddened Vincent, but didn’t break him.
The following weekend he collected all the saved canteen money which his father gave him and walked himself into the city sports store. He bought himself a new pair of football boots, shorts, a football, pump and a team jersey that he saw winning that night; the jersey had a number 18with Scholes written on the backside. Whereas Vincent was concerned, he was just too happy to get a football jersey, so he didn’t ask who the player was. With his new shopped items, he went home and hid them in his cupboard, so as not to raise any suspicion. Malcot –the butler-who had accompanied Vincent on his shopping spree, knew very well that this might raise the temper of Vincent’s family. They were of the thinking that football was not a gentleman’s game; it just had too much of rowdiness, dirt and sliding on the ground attached to it. But Malcot carried a fatherly love for Vincent. He had watched Vincent’s loathing expression every time the family had asked him about polo or any of their wishes they wanted him to fulfill. He was happy to see the small master so happy and joyful -a rare moment he would have said.
Vincent got his opportunity to try out his loot the next day. The family had decided to watch a high profile polo match. Vincent made an excuse of having a lot of homework to finish and stayed back. The moment all the Rolls Royce drove out of the wroth-iron gates, Vincent got into his attire and ran behind the manor and onto the open grounds.. Malcot was more than happy to accompany him. He saw the small kid play with the ball, trying to dribble and fall after every few steps. He noticed the ten year old kick the ball and run behind it later to kick it again. Malcot was truly annoyed by the show.
He called Vincent and said “You are not supposed to kick the ball with your toe. Use the inside of your foot to kick it, like this” and he kicked the ball which flew in the air with a curve.
Vincent eyes widened with amazement. ‘How did you do that? Will you teach me?”
“Yes I will Sir, but promise you won’t tell anyone. It is a secret between us.”
Vincent smiled and gave a quick nod.
Malcot started coaching Vincent on the rules of the game and the different positions of the players.
“Where does he play?” asked Vincent pointing a finger on the name on his back
“He is a midfielder. A very good player,” he answered.
“Can I be like him?’ asked Vincent, all excited with a hopeful face
“Off course, but for that you have to practice very hard,” malcot replied
“Yes I will. I want to win the UEFA Champion league”
Malcot laughed, but he knew by the look on his small master’s face that he was dead serious.
He taught Vincent on the history of the game, and told him about the top players.
He explained that all the great players had one thing in common; it was hard work and commitment on the field.
When the theory was finished, he started him with the practicals .Vincent turned out to be a quick learner. In that one day he had successfully learnt how to juggle the football on his feet and thighs; his highest count being six, for which malcot gave him a nice cherry pie. He now was successfully able to kick the ball with the inside of his foot, but what caught Malcot’s eye was that Vincent had a great volley strike and a screamer which he would hit with the upper face of his foot. He was indeed living up to the name on his back.
The next few days malcot would accompany Vincent in his room, watching some new soccer videos, teaching him along the way .He taught Vincent that a footballer should be able to use both of his legs successfully. Most of the days, Vincent would play alone as malcot was busy with the family, but on lucky day’s malcot would get a chance and would teach Vincent some new tricks .He tutored him on step-overs, roulette, panna and rabona. Explained him the importance of stamina and fitness in the game .Told him about passing, short passes, long passes, 1-2 passes and all the things he had up his sleeve.
“Never be selfish in the game. Remember it’s a team game. It’s not about you being the scorer but rather the team winning the game”
Three months later, the 10 year old played like a professional. But what he lacked was companionship, someone to play alongside him. One morning he had an idea. He started playing with the hunting dog’s .Dribbling alongside them, tricking them, flying balls over their head. Once he balanced the ball on his head for such a long time that a dog got frustrated and almost bit his nose off. He used the trees in the woods as an obstacle course and dribbled the ball around them, sometimes falling flat on the face after being caught by the roots of the large trees .With every successful trick his confidence increased, and with it, the desire to play for a team. He secretly started applying for trials to big soccer clubs. Malcot, though scared of the consequences, agreed to be the partner. Vincent started writing letters with the address of Malcot’s house, so that if any letter arrived, it would land in the correct hands.
Meanwhile the family was unaware of Vincent’s dreams, except that once his uncle commented that he was taking too much of interest in football these days.
‘Well I cannot play Polo, so why not make myself healthy and fit by playing football.” Vincent had replied, the answer which he had practiced so many times before the mirror.
Every member had admired him for the answer that time.
Vincent’s romance with soccer increased with each passing day. One weekend, he along with malcot, went to watch Liverpool play Chelsea at Anfield. Sitting on the seats near the sidelines, Vincent was awestruck by the pace at which the game was played. The tackles that flew, the range of passing made by the great players and the goals that were scored were nothing less than inspiring. By the time they returned home, Vincent was hypnotized.
“I want to play with them,” he had said to Vincent on their way back.
“You will one day,” Malcot assured.
“No!! This is the first time I felt like being at home. Malcot, I want to be there every week.”
“You know that’s not possible sir,” Malcot replied with concern.
“ It will be if I get selected, and selected I will be. Malcot you don’t know what this means to me.” And he looked straight into malcot eyes “I have found happiness Malcot”
Malcot couldn’t help but notice the desire in Vincent’s eyes. Tears were rolling down his red cheeks. Tears that begged for the freedom of will. Malcot felt the boy’s pain. He wanted to break the chains of tradition .Many Millhouse youngsters had sacrificed their heart’s desire for the family but not Vincent. Malcot couldn’t allow that, not this time.
When hard work meets with luck, magic has to happen. Vincent got his first trial call from a team called Aston villa. Before the day of the trials, Vincent felt so excited that he polished his boots three times and ironed his socks a couple of times. He kept on watching the videos that he had downloaded. Vincent had sent the team some of his videos, and probably that’s what made them call him. On the day of the trials, Vincent skipped school and traveled by a bus with malcot by his side.
On entering the ground, Vincent felt the same magic again.
“ I Feel it Malcot, I feel it,” he murmured ..
“I know sir, best of luck,” replied malcot. He guided the boy towards the ground.
There were around seventy people present in the stands watching the trails; many of them were parents of the youngsters. Vincent caught malcot on the top row waving him his hand. Vincent retuned a smile and raised his hand. Standing in the line, Vincent counted his rivals. There were forty of them. He smiled at some of them; some returned his smile, while some simply gave him an arrogant look.
There were three rounds to be completed. Players were to be short listed in every round.
The first one was the dribbling round .Vincent completed it too easily and quickly. Thirty- eight got short listed.
The second round was the passing and accuracy round. It checked players for the percentage of a player’s accuracy in passing. Twenty-three got short-listed, with Vincent amongst them.
The Third round was a match of twenty minutes played on a medium sized pitch with ten members in each side and three substitutes to be introduced later. Each player was asked of their position of expertise and was given the positions. Vincent- who was still in his no 18 shirt, which many had found inappropriate -took his place behind the strikers. When the starting whistle blew, everybody on the field started to show their tricks to impress the judges. When Vincent had had the ball, he had successful managed to confuse two opponents with his step-over and roulette. He also managed to complete some good passes and also had a good strike at goal from out of the box, which missed the goal by a few inches. By the end of the game the parents rushed towards their kids, clutching bottles and towels .Malcot joined Vincent quickly and handed him a bottle.
“You were good, Sir,” he praised. “I think you will be selected”
“Thank you Malcot. I appreciate it,” Vincent replied, catching his breathe.
The nervous youngsters had to wait an hour before the decision was announced.
A man in a blue jacket and white tracks gave out the results…
“We had Twenty-three players playing in the last round and we have selected seven from them. The selection was not easy, but we had to choose only the best amongst the lot. I will be reading the names
1) Mathew Armstrong
-A red haired boy started jumping up and down.-
2) Peter Austin
-Another boy started jumping.-.
Similarly more four names were called out, with Vincent’s name spoken in none of them.
‘and the last person to make it into the team is …” he waited a while and then said
Victor Lesley”
A dark colored boy started shouting out of happiness…..
Vincent’s head lowered itself. Malcot knew the kid was heart-broken .He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and rubbed his back .They both started walking silently towards the gate; they had to catch the evening train. They were of the thinking that they would be going back with good news and that it would help them reason with his parents, but now it was not possible. With hopes shattered, Vincent was afraid of the near future .As they neared the gate a guy in black suit approached them and called out.
“Excuse me, Sir?”
“Yes?’ asked Malcot, turning to face the man
“Hello sir. I am Ryan Grint,” he introduced himself, raising his hand for the hand shake.
Malcot replied to the gesture with a firm handshake.
“I am one of the scouts for a club. I saw your kid play today, and I think I saw a prodigy .I never saw him play earlier in any of the trails or for schools games, how’s that?” he asked.
“We discovered his talent a few days ago and we thought of giving it a try,” replied Vincent
“And am glad you did Sir, with proper training, I see a great player in him. I would like him to play in our club’s youth team. I already have his video- which I would be showing to the manager soon. All we need you to do is to give us a call at the school, so that we can arrange and sign the formalities.” with this he removed a card from the inside of his coat and handed it to malcot.
Malcot looked at the card. It had a red symbol in the middle, with a devil clutching a triton in his hand. Around it was written Manchester United FC.
“You are from Manchester United?” asked malcot, so excited that he couldn’t hide it.
Vincent who was looking down till now was confused. The sadness of the previous situation had lowered his senses. He tugged at Malcot’s coat and looked at him with a straight face.
Vincent sat down on his knees and hugged Vincent tightly.
“You are being selected to play for Man united youth team Sir.”
“I do not understand …” he asked innocently. Ryan chuckled…
“It’s the red team Sir……The same team who you saw the first time on television, It is this team sir.” malcot explained catching hold of Vincent’s jersey.
Vincent didn’t know how to respond. Pleasure started running through his veins and tears of joy took the place of sadness. He looked upwards into Ryan’s eyes..
“Thank you for all the happiness, Sir.” He smiled and hugged malcot again.
Standing up again, Malcot looked at Ryan and said “We will call you soon Mr Grint.”
“He looks really happy. Is it because of the club he is going to play for?” asked Ryan
“No Sir. He would have been happy the same way even if he had been selected for the school team. It’s just the joy of playing the game that makes him happy.”
Ryan gave a satisfied smile with a small nod and said…
“We will be waiting for your call Sir. And Vincent…” Vincent who had started playing with an imaginary ball turned to look at Ryan “Paul Scholes would have been proud of that strike of yours…..” Ryan winked.
When Vincent and malcot returned home, it was already seven in the evening. It was too late for Vincent, who would usually come at home around five. They sensed trouble the moment they opened the door. The entire family was present in the hall, looking tensed and furious.
“Where were you Vincent!?” shouted his mom, and came running to hug her son.
“I was…” started Vincent, but before he could continue..
“Malcot, Where did you take him? We were going to report to the police,” asked Aunt Muriel.
Everybody stared at Malcot for the answer.
Malcot felt their gaze piercing him, but before he could say….
“I got selected dad. I got selected to play for red devils,” announced Vincent, running towards his dad with a joyful face..
“What?” asked David –his cousin-anxiously “You must be kidding?”
“What are you guys talking about?” interrupted Vincent’s mother, “and what’s this red devil?”
“It is the Manchester United Football club. One of the top clubs in the country aunt..” explained Andrew. “He is saying he is being selected to play for the club.”
“Is this right Vincent?” asked his mother, looking at him.
Vincent nodded happily.
“I got selected today in the trials.” he said gladly
“What rubbish is this? How can he play football? Millhouse family is famous for Polo. We cannot allow this,” argued Uncle Thomas grimly, giving Vincent a stern look.
“Why not? That’s the only thing which gives me happiness and pleasure.” Vincent tried to reason. He looked towards his dad who was still sitting at his chair with head resting on his standing arms, looking down at the floor in a pensive manner.
“Dad… This is what I want,” he pleaded in a soft whisper.
Silence occupied the hall as everybody looked at Norman Millhouse. The decision now rested on him. They saw him take a deep breathe, which meant that he had come to a decision. He looked down at his ten year old son standing in a jersey that he loathed. “How can this be possible?” he asked himself. He looked at Vincent’s face. The boy was happy indeed. He smiled at Vincent and said.. “I will allow you to play football Vincent, but I would have been happier, if only you had decided to play for Liverpool…..”With this he opened his arms with a smile, into which Vincent came running and gave his father a soulful hug.
