‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  It all began when my eight-year-old grandson begged me to come to encourage his team in a very important game of soccer that his side just had to win.’  I was persuaded – and promised.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  I turned up duly on time only to be confronted by a smiling games mistress whose opening remark was: ‘œIt would seem that your grandson wasn’™t taking any chances and brought you early.’  You’™ve got a quarter of an hour to wait.’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Unperturbed, I turned to sit upon a concrete step that ran the length of the ground. In spite of the dampness and the fact that it was freezing to the touch, I sat to wait.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  In the meantime I was being introduced to what I was to expect of the game I had come to see. There was a game in progress between two eight-a-side girl teams playing hand-ball. The pandemonium was complete in a game where the vocal chords were distinctly one of the weapons used to achieve a hoped-for victory.’  At some time during the fight the sports mistress had made a hurried retreat probably, I thought, to the cloakroom and stayed there.’ ‘  She returned after some ten, very amusing minutes for me, sternly blowing her whistle announcing the end of time.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The jubilation of the winners was hysterical; theirs and that of some thirty young screaming spectators of the same age. It was so much a scene out of Alice in Wonderland that I found myself laughing outright.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  It was then that, quite by surprise, a forty-kilo bundle of energy and joy threw himself at me from the rear nearly toppling me.’  As I arose, he flung his arms around my neck quite oblivious of the fact that he may have put me in a wheel-chair for life. I felt that the greeting would have much in common with that of a great dane welcoming a master he had not seen for a month.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  With my grandson’™s arrival so, too, appeared on the scene some eighty other forth graders, behaving in such a way that I may well have thought they were at least twice that number.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  After much suspense and haggling, the teams of the two classes were on the field apparently already enjoined in battle even though no ball was visible.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The games mistress, a grimace on her face intended as a smile, made another appearance – rather nervously, I thought.’ ‘ ‘  Throwing the ball into the field she promptly took refuge behind the concrete bastion from which had made her appearance.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  When the game finally began, I quickly realised that any coincidence between it and English football, or soccer was the presence of the ball and a couple of goal posts some thirty meters apart. It became a free-for-all between two eleven-a-side fourth-graders whose one purpose was to get that ball between the opponent’™s posts at all or any cost.’  This didn’™t rule out the destruction of the opposing team if called for.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘  Not only feet and legs were hard at work, but any part of the anatomy that could be made use of ‘“ voices being one of them.’  It fact I thought that should an absence of goals create a dilemma, the rowdiest team would be declared the winner.’  I say an absence of goals since I couldn’™t imagine the ball penetrating such a forest of legs kicking and arms shoving. Any ball approaching the posts would bring the whole’  opposing team to the goal mouth fighting like Trojans protecting the pass.’  All would be in the scramble to keep the enemy at bay, screaming advice,’  threats and encouragements.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Of course there was no consideration if the ball left the field or was in play.’  In one instance, raising my legs, the ball passed under followed by six or seven small screaming human bundles of energy, each determined to get to it first.’  From time to time I would see a skirmish after which one or more howling, prone bodies on the’  field would mark where this had taken place.’  The pack then moved on – each murderously intent on getting to a ball imprisoned inside a mass of kicking legs, flailing arms and riotous voices.’  The howls of the wounded left on the field could hardly be heard over the shouts of the meleeing mob.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  It was out of one such cluster at a goal mouth that a ball flew out and over the group towards the second goal.’  There was a wild scramble and shout as both teams made a dash for the other end.’  Too late!’  The biggest of the boys, with a tremendous blow, let fly and the ball was in the goal!
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The team and spectators of the same class went into a frenzy of joy and excitement while the opposing side,’  my grandson included, screamed that there was a foul. ‘œNo goal!,’ they screamed as one.’  It beats me to think what could ever be counted as a foul in such a free-for all-battle.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The armies then regrouped when, in fiendish will and’  determination, my grandson’™s side burst through the enemy’™s ranks and defences and in a swirl of legs and thrashing arms scored!’  The excitement was now at fever pitch.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  At this point the games mistress re-appeared blowing her whistle stridently.’ ‘  I would not have been surprised had she come wearing a suit of armour.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œWe shall have two goal kicks each,’ she announced, ‘œto determine the winner.’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Both teams crowded around one goal.’  The on-lookers, I between them, shouting encouragements.’  The ball was put in place.’  For the first time since the bedlam began there was complete silence followed by a strong booing to discourage the chosen kicker. All was tense as the champion rushed to the ball – let fly and… missed!’  He had apparently aimed for the top junction of the posts.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The shouts of joy from the throats of my grandson’™s team was deafening.’  My voice joined in with great enthusiasm.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The next kick was for my grandson’™s team. The ball was put in place.’  I saw him as tense as a cat watching a mouse – hoping, praying.’  I joined in and wished also’  – fervently.’  The second champion took a long run and let fly.’  Once again the feverish scream.’  This time it was a goal!’  My cheers were as enthusiastic as the team’™s.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The second shots of both teams went wide even though it was like missing a barn door at ten yards.’  But no matter, The all important thing was that my grandson’™s side had won. He rushed up to me, as flushed as a beetroot with a smile as large a goal mouth for a quick embrace.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œDid you see me get that ball from the big bully?’ he asked panting like a steam engine.’ ‘  ‘œDid you see?’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œOf course I saw’, I said, lying, ‘œI think you played like a real champ!’ He was almost bursting with pride.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The memory of that game will probably remain with him forever.’  As for me, how could I ever forget such a moment of elation or, for that matter, such a great game of soccer.