Lucy Zeezou's Goal (5 page)

Over the next few days I was too full of excitement at the prospect of trialling for a team to think much about leaving Milan behind. The timing was perfect. Now that I knew I'd be here for at least a few more months, I could make more of a commitment and it'd make life much more bearable. And the best thing was that Lucy Zeezou was unknown. I could be myself, not Lucia Zoffi, with all that went with that name.

Things were feeling much more settled. Mama had organised a driver for us, and someone to help around the house. She was spending more time with old friends from her modelling days, heading off to lunches and functions. And by Friday, even Grandpa seemed much more cheery.

‘Mama, I'm off to dance class,' I said breezily.

‘Okay, but come home straight afterwards, we're off to see Nanna after Grandpa closes up.'

Mama was busy getting dolled up to head out. She really was starting to enjoy Sydney.

‘Don't worry, Mama, I'm not far away. Anyway, you're out for the day,' I beamed.

‘I'll be back early. I'm just off for a quiet lunch with a few old friends.' She shrugged and continued to apply her make-up.

Amazing. Ever since Mama's big speech about staying here indefinitely, she'd loosened the reins. I was making the most of my freedom before the clamps came down again. I guess she was still worried about Nanna. Or maybe it was just that here in Sydney, without the pressure of the media and the paparazzi, without the pressure of being Zoffis, she felt much more relaxed. In Italy we'd even received a few threats against our family. The police thought it could be a prank from obsessed rival football fans, but there was also a chance it was something worse, such as an organised crime outfit. Who knew what the truth was, but the threats had impinged on my life, as Mama became even more protective of our safety. Thankfully, she was at ease here.

I left the house in my dance outfit with my football gear hidden in my bag and a hat to disguise my hair.

The dance classes were held just up the street so I could walk to football without raising suspicion. All I had to do was stroll up the hill to the church hall, go round the block and sneak back downhill, and I'd be at the heavenly football pitch known as the Reg.

I arrived at the grounds early and ran into the ladies'
toilets to transform into Lucas. I tied my long hair into a tight bun and pinned on a short, blond wig I'd borrowed from Nanna's collection of old theatre costumes. Then I secured a cap with bobby pins. I was a tomboy anyway, so I didn't have to worry about my walk. Being tall also helped, and my body was very slim – boy-like in fact – but of course my face could have been a bit of a give-away. I had to remember to keep the cap's brim low.

As I walked out towards the pitch, some of the players were already warming up. I caught sight of Harry at the entrance. I started running in his direction, forgetting myself as the thought of playing with my new football friend took over. Then I came to a sudden halt.

What was I doing?

Harry was expecting to see Lucy
and
Lucas. Oh no. If I'd been a boy, life in the football world would be much easier, but I was happy being a girl. I just wished that we were treated equally. Well, today I was a boy … and hopefully a convincing one. I mustered all of my courage, walked up to Harry and introduced myself with my deepest voice.

‘Hi, Harry, I'm Lucas,' I mumbled from under my hat.

‘Hey, Lucas. How did you know my name?' Harry asked, inspecting me very closely.

I lowered my gaze. ‘Lucy gave me a very good description.' I hoped I sounded at least halfway convincing.

‘Where is Lucy?' Harry looked around quizzically.

‘Oh, she can't make it. She asked me to apologise but she had to visit her nanna in hospital. She'll see you another time.'

‘I hope so … I mean, uh … I hope her nanna's okay. Lucy seems like a nice girl and she's, uh, quite pretty, don't you think?' Harry looked at the ground.

Then I was really struggling. Blood rushed through my face and I could tell I was doing my best beetroot impression – not a good look. I might have been used to photographers telling me that I looked good, but that was part of their job. This was the first time a boy my own age had been this complimentary to my face – although, technically, he wasn't really telling me was he? I started to walk out onto the pitch, then nonchalantly replied, ‘Yeah, she's okay.'

‘Uh, wait, how do you know Lucy?' Harry asked.

Still red-faced, I replied, ‘We've been good friends for a long time. We used to play football together when we were little in Italy. Anyway, let's play.' I shook my head. That was a dumb thing to say – I should have come up with something better.

‘You played in the same team as Lucy?' Harry sounded incredulous. ‘I didn't know she could play football. I reckon girls should play against each other and leave the boys to it. They're not tough enough to play with or against boys and they're too slow. Anyway, come over and meet Coach James. He's a funny Irishman who
loves
his football.'

So. It was a good thing I was trialling as a boy or I would never have got this opportunity. Now I was even more determined to get into this team – and I was going to score so many goals they wouldn't hesitate in selecting me.

Harry would freak when he eventually found out the truth but right now I didn't care. Why did boys think they were so much better? Some extremely talented and tough female players have made their names on the world stage, such as the legendary Mia Hamm and Brandi Chastain from the US, Italy's Carolina Morace and top goal-scorer Elizabetta Vignotto, Australia's Lisa De Vanna and Cheryl Salisbury and Brazil's Sissi, and Marta, who is revered in her home nation alongside male stars like Ronaldinho and the great Pele. I couldn't wait for the day my name was mentioned among such amazing players.

It was unbelievable; finally, after four long weeks, I was on the pitch, about to get my first real touch of the ball … while impersonating a boy. It didn't get much crazier. Although how was I going to reveal my true identity? I couldn't be Lucas forever.

I was put up front with Harry. I wasn't in the mood to play alongside him but willed myself to think of the bigger picture. I'd deal with him later.

‘Hey, Lucas, over here,' Harry yelled.

He was in space on the other side of the pitch. I sent the ball flying over to him and it landed perfectly,
at his feet. He charged his way through a few defenders, making his way towards the goal. He was up against the sweeper; the midfielder was calling for it, as he was free, but instead Harry shimmied past and then unloaded.

I pounced on the ball and struck it with all my might – it sailed past the keeper with ease – bang. My first goal.

I was so excited I jumped up and down in ecstasy. Harry ran over to congratulate me. ‘Good goal. Let's see you bag another one.'

‘Thanks!'

I couldn't have dreamt of a better start – but this was going to be tougher than I'd thought; the standard of the other players was very good. I was just going to have to let my feet do the talking. I decided to work on my defending to show the coach that I was a versatile player. I didn't know who else they'd trialled or what I might be up against.

Now the other players were a little warier of me and tried to keep me out of the play.

Down the other end, a guy named Max was about to shoot from outside the box. I sprinted towards him, slid in and took the ball from under his legs. He fell, crying foul play but it wasn't – it was a fair tackle. Although play continued, Max, who seemed to be one of the key members of the team, was furious.

He brought the game to a standstill, bellowing at the
top of his lungs, ‘Hey, you with the hat, what the hell do you think you're doing?'

‘I was just doing my job. It was a fair tackle,' I replied confidently.

‘No, it wasn't,' he yelled. ‘You came in from behind and brought me down. That's a foul in my book.'

‘Well, the rest of us saw it differently,' I insisted, even though nobody else had come to my defence.

‘I don't know who you think you are. Anyway, what kind of footballer wears a hat on the pitch? It's weird and so is your voice!'

‘Hey, that's enough,' Harry interrupted. ‘Leave Lucas alone and let's get on with it.'

‘Well what's he doing defending when he should be up front? That was a foul. Didn't you see it?' Max snapped.

Coach James yelled from the sideline. ‘Come on guys, keep playing. You're wasting time. Let's give the new players a fair chance to prove themselves. Max, I need you to focus in your role as left back … there's no need for you to be shooting.'

Now I really had to perform some magic. That Max guy was already suspicious. But there was something fishy about him, too; he seemed familiar to me but I couldn't place him. But there was no time to worry about that now. I had to stay focused on winning a spot on the team.

Over the next half-hour the competition on the pitch intensified as the boys started playing more aggressively,
but I was up to the challenge. Max, in particular was heavily marking me – giving me a really hard time.

Harry made a break down the right-hand side and sent a spectacular cross in. I made my run among a swarm of defenders, with Max breathing down my neck, desperate to reach the ball first. The 18-yard box was a battleground; there was nudging, elbowing and fierce fighting for position as we all hustled for the ball.

The only way I could win the contest was to come up with the unexpected. Nonno Dino always taught me to act instinctively, moving like a panther ready to pounce on its prey.

Somehow I managed to break free from the pack, and with my back to the goal I leapt into the air and scissor-kicked the ball towards the goal. It catapulted past my rivals.

Some of the boys started clapping as I landed on my backside with a big thud. I wasn't sure if they were celebrating a goal or my fall. I looked up to see the ball nestled in the back corner of the net. I broke into a satisfied smile, thrilled that I'd secured my second goal, and surely a spot on the team.

But instead of congratulations, an eerie silence filtered through the air.

I could see Harry and Coach James running towards me while the rest of the players crowded around. Everyone was staring at me!

They must have been impressed. Had they never seen a scissor kick before?

But by the look on Harry's face, I could tell that something was wrong … seriously wrong. I couldn't work it out until the guys started pointing at me, sniggering.

I slowly moved my hands towards my head and my worst fear was realised. I could feel my hair, long and free. No hat and no wig. They must have fallen off when I jumped into the air to glide the ball in for the best goal I'd scored in ages. It had felt so good, but that moment was quickly slipping away.

‘I knew something wasn't right about you.' Max looked startled and angry at the same time.

‘Look, I can explain,' I pleaded as I looked into Max's eyes – and then it dawned on me.

He'd had a hair cut, that was why I hadn't recognised him – but his name wasn't Max. He was the guy I'd had a kick around with recently.

But I didn't have time to question him or defend myself. Harry jumped in angrily, picking up the hat and wig and shaking them in disbelief. ‘Explain what? The fact that you lied?' he yelled. ‘Lucas wasn't … isn't … you're really Lucy from Italy who just
happens
to play football. Why didn't you tell me?'

‘Harry, I'm so sorry. I wanted to but I couldn't,' I explained frantically. ‘You said that girls don't belong on the pitch. I thought this was my only chance.'

‘You should have told us the truth but instead you chose to embarrass me and the rest of the guys.'

Then Max added to the confusion.

‘Zeezou? I can't believe it. I should have known …' Max and Harry looked at each other.

Max had finally realised that I was the girl he'd met at the Reg. So why had he told me his name was Roy? Now I was confused, and before I could get an answer out of him, Coach James intervened.

‘Okay, boys and Lucas – or is it Lucy? I think we need a break after that entertaining encounter. I've never seen anything like this in all of my footballing life … a memor able moment indeed!'

I wasn't sure if Coach James was making fun of the situation or if he really meant it. All I knew was that I didn't want to face anyone … I just sat there with my head down, wishing this was a nightmare and I was about to wake up and start a new day.

My stomach was churning and the pain in my backside had subsided as a numb feeling set in. I thought of the consequences of my actions and it wasn't a very good forecast. I'd ruined my chances of making the team and maybe any team in Sydney – all in under an hour of playing the game I loved.

I had to hold back my tears to look tough in front of them. Coach James must have sensed that I was close to losing it. He knelt down and did his best to comfort me,
with a gentle tone and his hand on my shoulder. ‘Lucy-Lucas, what you did was dishonest. I don't know why you thought you had to lie to get a game but I must admit that it was funny. Boy or girl, you've really got talent. That goal was sensational … we'll call it the Lucy snap.'

We started laughing and I began to feel better.

‘There you go, a smile makes all the difference,' he said kindly. ‘I don't know what it's like in Italy, but in Australia football's the number one sport for girls, even though there are some boys still getting used to the idea that girls can play. I coached a women's team back in Ireland and they can really play. Football is for everyone, that's the beauty of the game.' He helped me up and we headed off the pitch to join the others.

I took a deep breath. ‘I didn't know what to expect and I was so desperate to play that I was willing to try anything to get into the team. I thought I had a better chance as a boy because I guessed that female footballers weren't accepted.' My voice started to wobble. I was on the verge of tears. ‘I'm so sorry, I didn't want to lie and believe me, I didn't like being Lucas anyway. But it doesn't matter now, because I've blown it.'