Marik walked off leaving Tariq sitting on the swing. ‘ Football ‘ey?’ Tariq thought to himself. Who would’ve thought it?
“ You made it!” Marik said when Tariq arrived at the Cage.
“ ‘Corse bruv, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
They made their way to the football, each sounding as excited as each other about the prospects of playing for the same football team. Okay, it was a Sunday League Team in the bottom division of their league but it was better than nothing. The Rovers trained on the astro-turf of Tariq’s school, Tom Hood. The team seemed alright, everyone was really friendly and Tariq made friends instantly. Tariq hadn’t played much football before apart from kicking a can about on the estate but he soon realized he was alright. He could take the ball past pretty much everyone and he even scored a goal at the training match at the end of the session. He was signed immediately and Sanjeev, the Indian manager was delighted with his progress.
“ Tariq son, what position do you normally play?” The manager asked him.
” Well to tell the truth I haven’t played in a position before, Sanjeev.”
” Well our striker has just left to join out rivals, Leyton Town West. So how about you play upfront for our game on Sunday? We’ve got a cup game against a team from Hertfordshire. You interested, son?”
” Definitely!” Tariq replied.
Tariq made his way home. He couldn’t wait to tell his mum the good news.
Today was Tariq’s first ever game in the purple and yellow striped shirt of Oakwood Estate Rovers. It was a Charity Cup game against Stortford Jets, a mid-table team from the Royston Crow League.
He walked to the mosque where the team was meeting. The team was going in a minibus that was lent to them by the mosque.
It was an hour-long journey but after a journey full of the goalie getting wedgied and Marik getting Coke spilt all down him the Rovers finally reached the ground of Stortford Jets. The manager was playing four at the back; apparently the defence has always had problems heading the ball clear because they all wear turbans. The goalie, Shamila, was the same age as Tariq, sixteen years old but he weighed eighteen stone. He wasn’t very agile but he didn’t half fill up the goal. The midfield was alright, the left midfielder only had one arm but that didn’t affect his play at all. The two centre midfielders were twins, Hesham and Zeeshan. They never shut up and very often got in fights with the other players. Marik and Tariq were playing up front.
The game kicked off with Stortford Jets putting the pressure on early on and Shamila making a very good save indeed. After ten minutes Stortford Jets played a long ball forward, the defence tried to head it away and their turbans did not help the accuracy of their heading. The lanky Stortford Jets striker controlled the ball and struck it into the top left hand corner to put them 1-0 up. Rovers were playing poor football and at half time were 6-0 down. Tariq hadn’t touched the ball once and the gaffer Sanjeev suggested he played in defence. This was because Tariq didn’t have a Turban and would be able to head the ball swell as get possession and being able to make runs with the ball. The second half started with Tariq immediately getting the ball, he received it from a back pass and took it round the left winger of Stortford Jets before sprinting forward down the right wing, he flicked the ball over his head and volleyed a screamer into the top right hand corner. What a goal! The Jets players looked at each other, all the adults started cheering, it was without doubt the best goal a Rovers player had ever scored. Tariq continued his excellent form throughout the game using his strength and aerial ability from the set pieces and scoring two headers off corners. The game finished at 6-3 but what a game Tariq had. His name was being spoken of all the way back on the minibus, maybe Rovers had a chance of glory.
It was four months after Tariq’s debut and Rovers had reached the League Cup Final against their close rivals Leyton Town West. Scouts from all over East London flocked to Dagenham and Redbridge’s Stadium to see this Youth Cup final. And they were all looking at one boy, Tariq Nihrham.
Tariq had the game of his life, inspiring Rovers to a 1-0 victory over their rivals; he set up the goal in injury time for his mate Marik. What a way to cap off the season. As Tariq made his way to his car a gentleman wearing a black suit made his way over to him, he was the manager of Leytonstone Youth. One of the best youth teams in East London.
“ Tariq I’ve been watching you over the last few weeks, and I must say I like you a lot. You have great leadership skills and great strength. I want to offer you a place at my team, my centre back has just been signed by West Ham Academy and we have a place to fill and I think you’re more than capable of filling his shoes.”
Tariq could not resist the offer. He didn’t want to leave Marik because if it weren’t for him he wouldn’t be in football in the first place, but round the corner lay better things. And he had to take his opportunity while he could so he signed. He would be playing for them at the start of next season.
Tariq had been playing for Leytonstone Youth for just a month before he was snapped up for Leyton Orient. Leyton Orient were currently in English League Two but needed to bolster their defence. Tariq had left school because he thought now that he was going to sign a professional contract he wouldn’t need schooling anymore. He had just dumped his mum in a private hospital and he didn’t pay much attention to his sisters or Marik anymore. Although he was still very caring, he was turning into a very selfish boy. Leyton Orient decided to sign Tariq so as to develop him for the future but because of an injury crisis Tariq ended up playing the last five games of the season, including the play-off final against Kidderminster Harriers.
Tariq stepped out onto the pitch of the Millennium Stadium of Cardiff proudly wearing the number 47 shirt of Leyton Orient. The atmosphere was eccentric, everyone was going wild, singing and waving flags all over the stadium. He knew that somewhere in this massive crowd of 55,000 would be his family and friends from Leytonstone. He couldn’t believe just how quickly his career had kicked off. This time a year ago he was playing Sunday League football for a council estate team and now he’s stepping out at the biggest stadium in Britain in the play-off final! He didn’t know where he’d be next year but he knew scouts from all the Premiership teams were watching him as well as the Iraqi National Team Coach; he had already played one game for the Iraq Under 23s in the Olympic games and was hoping for his full international cal-up. He had earned around £15,000 over the past year in transfer fees and such and was able to rent a flat for the family and afford to send his mother to a Private Hospital, she had recovered just in time to travel to Wales to watch him today. Tariq made his way with his teammates to the centre circle. The music around the stadium was deafening, and the National Anthem was still to come. Although Tariq didn’t have a British passport yet he so loved Britain. It was the country that had given him his big opportunity; he just had to make sure that he executed it well. All the racist comments from the past he had put behind him. Occasionally he hears the odd racist comment from the terraces but it just fires him on. It doesn’t affect him in the slightest! Tariq made his way to the far left side of the pitch where he was playing in centre of defence just in front of Glyn Garner the goalkeeper, thoughts of the fat goalie at Rovers in his old days made Tariq laugh but he had an important game ahead of him and he had to be fully concentrating. Lee Steele passed the ball back and the game begun. Tariq kissed his Tuhgahi bracelet for luck. He couldn’t even here himself think because the stadium was so noisy. Tariq got the ball early on and played a long ball forward to Lee Steele who managed to earn a corner. Tariq went up to the corner, trying to use his height. The ball came in but Tariq was no-where near it. The game actually continued at a surprisingly slow pace until the 40th minute. Orient were passing the ball around well and Tariq in fact received the ball on the left before a dreadful tackle came in from a Kidderminster player. Tariq didn’t think it was anything serious but the physio thought otherwise, Tariq was just about to get up and proclaim his health but then he jus collapsed. Apparently he had broken his ankle and would have to be rushed to hospital. This completely ruined his cup final. Tariq was carefully stretchered to the Ambulance.
“ You alright in the back there, mate?” Asked the Ambulance driver. Tariq winced.
“ Yeah I think so. Hopefully it’s not anything serious, though. I just don’t want it to affect my game.”
The Ambulance continued it’s journey through the streets of Cardiff. It turned the corner onto the main road when BANG! A massive 16 tonne lorry ploughed into the side of the Ambulance. The Ambulance was sent scraping along the main road hitting the barrier at the side and falling off into the river below. The lorry didn’t even stop, it just continued as though nothing had happened. Cars were stopping all around the scene of the crash, trying to think what they could do to try and save Tariq and the ambulance driver. The Ambulance was sinking and sinking.
Meanwhile in the Ambulance Tariq was trying to undo the straps on the stretcher in the back. The fact that he was lying down must’ve taken most of the impact of the crash. Tariq struggled in the freezing cold water to try and release himself. His arms and legs were both strapped down. The murky brown see water was all around him, he was trying to hold his breath but he jus couldn’t do it. He kicked and kicked, punched and punched but he just couldn’t get himself out of the straps that were restraining him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the corpse of the Paramedic floating above him in the driver’s compartment. He had nearly no oxygen in his lungs his arms and legs were numb. He had to try and breathe in, but he was flooding his lungs with more and more water. Thoughts were flying through his mind, of his childhood, his father, his mum in hospital, his sister working on the streets but most of all that round ball that you kick about to get easy money. What-ifs were plaguing his mind: What if he hadn’t ever left Iraq? What if he hadn’t ever started school? What if he hadn’t ever met Marik? What if he hadn’t ever started football? Would he still be alive, living a simple life? A simple life is better than no life he thought. His face went blue and his eyes stayed open, staring at the roof of the ambulance. As the Police helicopter hovered overhead Tariq lay there in an immortal sleep. Never to be disturbed by that stupid game again.
