Kids' Night In 2: A Feast of Stories

Felice Arena

Soccer Freak

I've gotta keep it going. It's all in the mind. I have to focus and try not to get distracted. Knee. Head. Head again. Left knee to right knee. On my right foot. Keep it going. I can't believe I haven't messed it up so far. I bet I've been juggling this soccer ball for about five minutes now.

'Stay away! I've been going for ages!' I shout, spot­ting my little brother, Phillip, approaching me.

'I think I've beaten my record!' I tell him, without taking my eyes off the ball.

'How do you know you've beaten your record without a stopwatch?' he asks.

'I dunno, it just feels like I have,' I mumble back.

Head. Right knee. Left knee. Right knee.

'I'll go get one,' my brother shouts, running back inside. He returns with his watch - it has a stopwatch in it.

'I'll start it now,' he says.

'But that's not fair! It won't have the time I've done so far!'

'Who cares? Just do it from now,' my brother snaps back, as he starts his stopwatch and sits on the back door step.

Head. Head. Head. Foot. Foot.

'Awwwhhh,' he moans as I nearly stuff it up. I quickly regain my rhythm and tap the ball onto my right knee. Left knee. Right knee.

'That was close!' I take in a deep breath. I feel great. I bounce the ball onto my head.

Head. Head. Head.

'What's my time?' I ask my brother.

'Two minutes and seventeen seconds,' he shouts back.

'Why are you shouting?' I ask.

'Just making it sound more important!'

'Whatever,' I answer back.

'And, ladies and gentlemen, here we are to see my brother - Felix Spinelli, or, as he's known to the world, Soccer Freak - go for the world record in juggling a soccer ball, without touching it with his hands or letting it hit the ground. What an amazing thing for this twelve year old -'

'What are you doing?' I yell, annoyed and almost losing control.

Just focus. Head. Right knee. Right foot to left foot. Keep going.

'I'm pretending to be a sports reporter,' Phillip says, standing up.

'Well, it's really putting me off. Don't say a word!'

My brother mumbles something. I think he swore at me. But I don't care, 'cause I really can't believe I'm still doing this.

'What's my time?' I ask.

My brother ignores me.

'Come on, tell me!'

Still nothing.

'Come on. This could be history in the making. But it can't be without your help.'

'But you said not to say a word!'

'Yeah, that's 'cause you were bugging me and you nearly made me totally mess it up. Come on, what's my time? I bet it's a world record.'

'Six minutes and thirty-eight seconds.'

I can tell by the way my brother's voice squeaked that even he's impressed.

Head. Knee. Foot. Knee. Head.

'What is the world record?' Phillip asks.

'Dunno. Go and ask Dad.'

My brother disappears inside.

Head. Head. Head. Right knee to left knee. Left knee to right knee.

This is so cool. I've never gone this long before. Imagine if I beat the world record. I'll be famous. Maybe I should get Dad or Mum to call the TV news people. They can get me on camera. Yeah, that would be cool.

Then the whole world would hear about me. We could charge people to come through the house and into the backyard to watch me. And if I did this for weeks and weeks, non-stop, I bet even famous soccer players like David Beckham and Harry Kewell would wanna come and see me. Yep, that would be totally unreal. Head. Head. Right foot. Left foot. Left knee. Right knee.

'Whoa! What was that?' Something whooshes past my head and I nearly lose control.

Head. Head. Right knee. Left knee. I'm okay.

What was that? There it is again! Shoot! It's a mag­pie and it's swooping me. There's no way I'm gonna let some bird stuff up my go at a world record. Stupid magpie. Whoa! Again! This magpie is out to kill me! What's taking Phillip so long?

Foot. Foot. Foot. Head. Knee. Knee.

'PHIL!' I shout, as loud as I can, trying to keep one eye on the ball and the other on the psycho magpie.

'What? '

My brother appears at the back door.

'I'm being attacked! This magpie is gonna wreck my world record. Try to scare it away.'

Phillip turns back inside. He returns a few moments later wearing his bike helmet and swinging a cricket bat.

'I said to scare it, not knock it for six!'

My brother marches out into the backyard looking up into the sky. It's hard for me to see what he's doing. I don't wanna lose control of the ball. Right knee. Left knee. Right knee. Left knee.

'It's gone. It flew away,' my brother says, disap­pointed. He's now standing in front of me.

'What's my time?' I ask.

'Eight minutes and forty-three seconds.'

Is that all? It feels more like fifteen minutes.

'So, what did Dad say? What's the world record for juggling a soccer ball?' I ask.

'He doesn't know. But you must be close,' says Phillip, still looking up into the sky for the magpie.

'Boys!'

It's my mum, sticking her head out from the kitchen window.

'I've just been to the supermarket. Would you like some chocolate fudge ice-cream with hundreds-and-­thousands sprinkled on top?'

Before I can even say a word, my brother drops his bike helmet and cricket bat and sprints inside.

'Felix? What about you?' my mum asks. 'It's your favourite!'

I can't get distracted. Keep the focus. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.

'No, thanks, Mum!' I yell.

'You sure?'

Can't she see that I'm in the middle of breaking a world record here?

'Felix? Your brother is going to eat it all, if you don't. You sure you don't want any?'

This is killing me. My mum is right. Chocolate fudge ice-cream with hundreds-and-thousands sprin­kled on top is my all-time favourite.

'No, Mum. Not now. Can you save me a bowl? I'll have it after I've broken the world record!' I shout back.

'Okay, dear.'

Good, no more distractions. Head. Head. Head. Right knee.

'Mmmmmm...'

It's my brother again - with a bowl of chocolate fudge ice-cream and hundreds-and-thousands sprinkled on top.

'Mmmmm! It's soooo... mmmmm!' he mumbles, stuffing a spoonful into his big gob.

'Get lost!' I tell him. 'Nothing is gonna stop me getting this world record. Not even you stuffing your face with the best ice-cream on the planet.'

Head. Foot. Foot. Right knee. Left knee. Right knee.

'Mmmmmm!'

'GET LOST, WILL YA!'

Now he's really bugging me.

'That was so good.'

What a pig. My brother has just polished off the whole bowl - right in front of me.

'I'm gonna go eat yours now,' he says, with a smart­-alec grin on his face.

Head. Foot. Knee. Foot. Foot.

'Hey!' I shout out after him. 'What's my time?'

'Ten minutes and five seconds,' he yells back, before stepping inside again.

Well, I'm glad he's gone. I almost totally lost it.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I don't believe it! It's my brother again. Tapping at the kitchen window. And he's eating my bowl of chocolate fudge ice-cream.

Foot. Foot. Knee. Knee.

That's it! I can't take it anymore. I stop juggling the ball and...

 

... let it hit the ground.

 

My brother's eyes pop out of his head.

'That's mine!' I yell.

I can break a world record tomorrow, but getting a chance to eat chocolate fudge ice-cream with hundreds-­and-thousands on top, well... that's unbeatable.

***

Dear soccer freaks,

Here's what you're up against if you think you want to break the actual world record:

Football (soccer ball) control: Nikolai Kutsenko (UKR) juggled a regulation soccer ball for twenty-Jour hours and thirty minutes non-stop with feet, legs and head, without the ball ever touching the ground, on the sixth of Dec 1995 at Kiev.

Good luck!