Living History

The Impossible Dream: Part 3

In less than a year Spud and his friend were thirty thousand feet above sea level jetting their way to France.

Turning to Glen, Spud couldn’t contain his excitement, “how lucky are we, getting these soccer tickets?”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. You are so single-minded, Spud. Nothing is beyond you.” Glen’s gratitude oozed with every word. “I’m not sure how you managed it, but I’m glad you did.”

The friends hired a car at the airport and made their way to the south of France where they spent little on accommodation and food compared to their spend on soccer tickets. “Ah well, everything in perspective,” they laughed when they realised how difficult it was, sleeping in the car.

Nothing spoilt their exhilaration in the stand as they swayed and chanted, ‘oolay, oolay’, to Ricky Martin’s music at the first game they saw. It was the same at all the matches, the Mexican wave was universal in its bonding of the sport spectators and neither Spud nor Glen was going to miss a thing. They were having fun just being there.

#

The trip was over far too quickly for the boys as they winged back to Australia with their souvenirs.

“That was the highlight of my life,” Spud hugged his mother waiting at Sydney airport.

“I’m so pleased you were able to go,” she was proud of her son’s self-discipline in reaching many of his life’s goals. “But now you must get a real job, a job that will sustain you into adulthood, possible marriage and family responsibilities.”

“If I had been patient back then in my rep days, my life could have been different. I might be playing for a soccer team in Europe.”

“Well you made your choice, soccer was not so popular here in the eighties, so don’t look back. Be grateful for the wonderful time soccer has given you anyway.”

#

A few weeks later Spud’s mother answered the phone to her son who was on the other end. “Mum, I’ve got a job.”

“That’s wonderful dear, but it’s not that exciting to have to go to work every day.”

“Oh, yes it is. I have been appointed to a High School to co-ordinate a School of Soccer Excellence for the students.”

“Spud I’m sure that’s wonderful, but what does that mean? What will you have to do?”

“Mum, I get to play soccer every day. It will be my job to teach girls between fourteen and eighteen to play soccer. To coach them.”

“Do you mean, employed by the Government’s Education department? Get paid?” Spud’s mother seemed puzzled.

“I sure do Mum. There are classes on the field, theory in the classroom, competitions with other schools and other districts.”

#

For many years Spud could be overheard speaking to his soccer students, “Girls, have a good game but most of all enjoy yourselves. Remember you can do whatever you want to do if you work for it.”

“That coach has one hundred percent of those girls’ attention,” one of the parents turned to another as they sat in the stand waiting for their daughters’ game to begin.

“I agree. The girls respect him so much, that is why their team spirit is so high and they are so successful. My daughter hopes to attend a College in the United States and become a professional soccer player.”

“I’ve heard that is the dream of a few of them.”

“Well if anyone can help them grab onto their dreams, Spud can.”

“I wonder if the school could fundraise for them to go to Germany to see a couple of the 2006 World Cup games? The Socceroos qualifying effort in achieving their impossible dream would surely inspire them.”

Colleen, Lakewood, New South Wales

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