The Game

BY Tadala Nkhoma 

My father fell in love with footy after he had moved to Melbourne. If he wasn’t out watching the game with men from around the area, he would be in front of the screen, his eyes so small you could hardly see them and his body rocking from side to side anticipating the rollercoaster of the game. My sister would flinch every time there was an abrupt roar or a ‘he should have done it when he had the chance’ from him.

I had just gotten home from school one hot and steamy Friday afternoon. I opened the gate and pushed the door forward to find my siblings playing a game of Uno on the floor near the television and my mother wiping the sweat from her brow as she diced onions. My mother looked up at me answering the question I never asked. Eyes shifty, voice drained. ‘Your father is upstairs waiting for you. He was keen to talk to you about something. Just do what he says and you’ll be alright.’

I didn’t bother to change my clothes as I went past my room upstairs or cancel my plans

with my friends hoping they would understand what situation I was in. I knocked on the wooden door and waited for an ‘Enter.’ from the inside. I opened it and walked in to find an array of black and white scarves, hats and t-shirts covering the king-sized bed. Next to it, my father was wearing a selection of the items from the bed and a smile extending to both sides of his face. ‘Took you long enough. Kick-off starts soon and we aren’t even there yet.’ He gave me a handful of clothes. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!’ 

I shuffled out of the room, tensing every step. I followed my dad down the steps to and across the lounge walked past my mother who gave an uneasy smile and my siblings with smirks on their faces and closed the door. My father pushed the pedal pinning himself to the seat of his new Land Cruiser 300 as we went down the houses and parked a couple streets away from Marvel Stadium. 

‘Everyone here for the game ain’t it? We should ‘ave come earlier!’ He slammed the door shut as I rushed to keep up with him. ‘You know this is like those times my dad took me to watch the footy. We rarely went to the stadium, tickets being very expensive and all, but every trip was a time of wonder and love. Just me and Pa.’ He looked into the sky and then cleared his throat moments later as he drew the tickets out of his pockets.

The section of black and white stood up and cheered. Spinning scarves and blowing horns, reflecting the state of the jumping-huddled men. My father grabbed me and lifted me up into the air giving me a full view of the large, green pitch with two adjacent yellow poles and rows of chairs surrounding the scene filled with red, yellow, black and white. He dropped me down after being both overwhelmed and thrilled by the sight.

‘I was saving this for later but now’s the time.’

He handed me a cone-shaped horn. I carefully examined the object before placing it to my lips and blowing in air. He grinned at me, filling me with a new warmth as the crowd continued to cheer. ‘Come on, come on…’ My father kept muttering at the edge of his seat. We had seen multiple successes and many downfalls but this was it, the final quarter. ‘Just keep it there and pass at the right moment.’ The crowds continued to chant opposing each other and horns continued to blast. I wrapped my arms around my knees and my horn rocking back and forth watching. Waiting.

‘They missed a lotta goals when they had a chance. I guess they’re too old now… They

shoulda kept Elliot on. He woulda smashed them.’ He slammed his large hands on the wheel and took deep, concentrated breaths. In and out. My father adjusted the rear-view mirror so we caught a glimpse of each other as he smoothly glided back home. ‘But Pa was right, you know. Footy really is a game of love.’ I gave a weak smile. ‘Tired, eh? I guessed so… Sorry mate but help your old man out and take care of your siblings when we get home. Your mum is mad as, and we have to sort other things out. It’s been rough for us recently. But I trust we can all get through it, eh?’

I hid in my room, book in hand listening to the slight rumble and shouts from downstairs. ‘Everything is going to be alright, Mum and Dad need to sort some things out.’ My brother grasped my sister tightly as streams stained his sweater. My sister looked towards me for confirmation.

‘Charles, will everything be alright?’

I smiled tightly and slid towards my siblings pulling a deck of cards out of the drawer,

hoping for a game of love.