Dumisa paraded himself in front of the mirror in the cloakroom. Eish! He looked good. He turned to the left and pulled a muscle man stance. All that working out was paying off. He was strong and he was fit! This was his moment. He heard their soccer coach shouting for his ‘boys’ and pulled on his soccer shirt. “What a shame!” joked his friend, Moses. “Hiding those muscles. But you know they are there, hey, majita?” They laughed.

“Ja, and the babes will know they’re there soon,” laughed Dumisa. They gave each other a high five and joined the circle their team had made. It was the pep talk. It got them all stirred up and baying for blood before the game. And it was an important game. The soccer scout from Ajax was here to look for talent for their youth programme. Oh yes, Dumisa needed to get onto that. It was his dream. It had been his dream since he started kicking a ball around aged five. The academy had money. It was the only way for him to get where he wanted to be. And that was to the top! He wanted to wear the golden boot. He had to get in. It was the only way a poor boy from the kasi was going to make it.

“Fair play and fair win, that’s what I want from this team,” said the coach. Then he started roaring how they must get out there, make themselves proud, stand together as men.

And then they were running out onto the pitch. Home boys! Their class mates cheered, but the other team, the stronger team booed. “Ignore them”, coach had said. “Just focus on the game! Yabona?”

“Yes chief.” They had chorused.

Now it was their time. Dumisa looked to the bench. There he was: the scout from Ajax with his cap pulled down over his eyes. He didn’t give a thing away. He sat their scowling, hunched up, like he was cold and wanted to get back inside. For one mad moment Dumisa wanted to wave at him. But he stopped himself. Idiot, he told himself. Focus!

He looked to the left of the scout. There were the subs, he counted them, ticked them off in his head: Themba, Andile, Siyanda, all present and accounted for. But who was that sitting at the end where Victor should be? He didn’t recognise the boy, hadn’t noticed him in the change-room, but he was wearing their colours. He was big and strong, Dumisa could see that even from a distance. He sat quite still, but ready, like a race horse waiting for the gates to open, to be let loose on the field.

“Hey majita, who’s the new face?” Dumisa shouted at Moses as they took their positions. Dumisa played position 9 and Moses played 10.

“That’s the new kid. Well maybe not a kid?” They both looked over. The boy hadn’t moved a muscle. He was like a robot. “He’s just arrived. Grade 12. I heard Coach saying he wanted to try out for the team.”

In that moment doubt crept in to Dumisa’s plan to conquer the field, to attract the coach, to win that coveted spot. And as the doubt got stronger, his play got weaker. In the second half, tired, but still hanging on, he missed an easy chance for goal. And then the ref blew as he did a dangerous tackle. Shit! He wasn’t playing right, and now the worst thing happened. Coach was pulling him off.

The new boy was warming up on the sidelines, ready to play. He held out his hand to greet Dumisa as, but Dumisa turned away from him. There was no way he was greeting his rival. The boy shrugged, like it didn’t matter either way and then he ran out onto the field.

After the match Dumisa couldn’t look at Mandla. Yes, that was his name and he clearly lived up to it. He had played brilliantly and scored a goal from 18 yards and every time the crowd had cheered it was like a thorn in Dumisa’s side. No, he didn’t want to talk to Mandla, who had a crowd of worshippers around him. He blocked his ears so he didn’t hear the comments “untswempu” and “usiskhokho”. He didn’t hear the coach either, calling him. It was only when he felt the coach tapping his shoulder that he spun around, nearly knocking him down.

“Phola, phola,” the coach laughed. “I’ve been looking for you. The scout wants to see you,” he said.

Dumisa couldn’t believe it. “Mna?” he asked.

“Wena!” the coach replied. “You’d better hurry. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”