Then I saw Mohi blowing kisses at us and I saw red. I walked up to him and socked him in the mouth. ‘You leave them alone, Mohi.’
‘Whu —’ the crowd rumbled.
Before Mohi could hit me back, the ref had blown his whistle to start the second half. Dad, Pani and Andrew were silent as I trotted back. I started to rearrange the team.
‘Why don’t we just throw in the towel?’ Pani asked.
‘No,’ I answered. ‘If we keep possession of the ball we can keep the score down. I’ll play centre forward; Dad, you play left inner; Andrew, you play right inner, and Pani, you play at centre half.’
‘What about —’ Andrew jerked his head at Donna, Cindy and Chantelle.
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘Play ball!’ the ref cried.
Tears of rage were stinging my eyes. I barged back and pushed Chantelle away from the centre forward position.
‘You bitches,’ I yelled at my cousins. ‘If you don’t want to fight for yourselves, get off the field. Go crawl back into your holes and die.’
I settled down to bully against Alexander Poata. All I could think of was winning the bully, shooting the ball out to Andrew, streaking into Hukareka territory and –
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
‘You better step aside, honey.’ Chantelle’s voice was kind, but there was steel in it. ‘You’re standing in my position and I don’t like it.’
I looked at Chantelle, uncomprehending.
‘Off you go now, there’s a good boy. Me and my girls are going to work.’
I moved back to centre.
‘Are we ready, girls?’ Chantelle asked.
‘Any time, any place, any way you want it,’ Donna and Cindy responded.
‘So why are we waiting?’ Chantelle said. ‘Let’s kick ass.’
The game took off. Chantelle bullied so fast that Alexander Poata was left literally standing in the middle of the field wondering what had happened. He looked like one of those cartoon characters who lose their pants and cross their legs: Eek. She pushed the ball past Tight Arse Senior and yelled to Cindy, ‘Go, girl!’
The ball cracked from Chantelle down the middle of the field. Cindy took off after it, picked the ball up and swerved and dipped past the remaining Hukareka Two players. Like an avenging angel she sprinted down the field and slam –
Hukareka 15, Waituhi Rebels 1.
‘One down,’ Chantelle yawned, tossing her hair, ‘fourteen to go. Ready, girls?’
The onlookers were stunned into silence. Then they let out a surprised roar. Nani Mini was laughing so loud she almost lost her teeth.
Hockey one, hockey two, hockey three and –
Again the ball cracked from Chantelle, but this time to Donna who hit it into the far corner and sped after it. Did I tell you that Donna had been a champion sprinter? None of those Hukareka players had a chance. Donna was there to pick up the ball and leisurely dribble it into the Hukareka goal.
‘What took you guys so long?’ Donna said as the panting Hukareka players caught up.
Alexander Poata was so pissed off about being beaten by a takatapui that he took a swing at Donna who ducked, kneed him in the balls and asked the other men, ‘Next?’ It was the kind of strength that people on the sidelines understood — even Grandfather Tamihana. They cheered and stamped their approval. Donna went to take a bow.
‘Never mind about that,’ Chantelle yelled. ‘We’ve only got another twelve minutes.’
Hukareka 15, Waituhi Rebels 2. We would never make it.
The game got harder, but we had the crowd with us all the way. People like to see born losers clawing back. Against all odds we managed to draw 15–15 in the last second.
‘Extra time!’ the ref allowed. Now the game would continue until the first goal was scored.
Nani Mini was beside herself. She upbraided Chantelle. ‘Why didn’t you fellas play like this in the first half?’
Chantelle looked at me with tenderness. ‘We can fight our own battles, Auntie,’ she said. ‘But sometimes it takes us a while to remember what they are.’
Today people still remember that semifinal game and the one that followed. They remember it not with laughter but with admiration for the team that came from the back and ended in the front. Mind you, people thought Waituhi Rebels had decided on our tactics from the very start.
‘That was clever,’ Granduncle Pera said, ‘to get Hukareka Two all tuckered out first!’
For two minutes the fight of the champions see-sawed from one end of the field to the other. There always seemed to be somebody from either side able to stop the ball from going into the goal. Then the ref blew his whistle and announced that the first team to hit the ball from the circle anywhere over their opponent’s back line would be the winner.
Hockey one, hockey two, hockey three.
I was so exhausted I could hardly stand.
Alexander Poata won the ball. Hukareka were on the attack. Then from out of nowhere Pani stopped the ball. He saw Donna waving from afar and hit it to her. But Donna was tired and the Hukareka players were catching up –
Suddenly Chantelle yelled, ‘Cops, Donna! Cops!’
You should have seen Donna take off — like a rocket. Over the circle and slam.
Oh yes, we won the finals too.
Chapter 45
In the early evening both Nani Mini Tupara and Grandfather, on behalf of Waituhi Rebels, went up to receive the coveted silver-studded shield at the prizegiving ceremony. I had mentioned to Nani Mini earlier why it was imperative that Grandfather join her.
‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘But your grandfather can fight his own battles, you know. Just remember our bargain — I get to take the shield to my place. That’ll fix the old paka.’
So Grandfather did win against Rupeni Poata, sort of, in the end. Not that Rupeni Poata seemed to care. When the official photograph was taken and everybody applauded he caught my eye and raised his arms to indicate his personal applause.
Dad was standing beside me. I turned to him and –
‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said.
‘You were the captain,’ he answered. ‘Not me. Father was wrong in thinking he could change the name of the team and the players. Sometimes there is no choice.’
‘There’s always a choice, Dad.’
‘Not when there’s only one right answer. You were right, son, and Father was —’
Dad still could not make the admission.
The community hall was packed that night for the celebration concert and dance. We young ones were looking forward to letting off steam — the Black Shadows were playing, which meant we’d be able to rock and roll.
Andrew and I had a long shower and doused ourselves with two bottles of cologne; Andrew also drank some. He hoped he would get lucky in Nuhaka. My thoughts, as usual, were on Poppy. I was combing my hair into a duck tail — in those days I had enough hair — when the toilet flushed and Chantelle came out hitching up her skirt. We looked at each other in the mirror. Nothing needed to be said. Chantelle winked and was gone.
I had brought my new pair of grey pointed shoes — they were so long in the toes the only way I could walk was with my feet splayed out at right angles. Andrew lent me his bright red shirt and lime green pants. When I walked into the hall I looked like traffic lights trying to make up their mind whether to show Stop or Go.
By eleven the dance was in full swing — and no sign of the Hukareka crowd. Then Poppy walked in on the arm of Rupeni Poata, and they started to waltz. Everybody went, ‘Aah.’