Date: Sat, 15 Jun 2013 06:35:07 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pok Bepxtep <pok_bepxtep (at) yahoo (dot) com>
Subject: Sander chapter 2

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Chapter 2: Pitch Fever
----------------------

The week after that unforgettable Saturday went by rather quickly, or so it
seemed. On Sunday, I stacked all my cd's, dvd's, books... in their
designated spot, which took me most of the day. More often than not, I
would wish for Sander to be there to help me. Not because I couldn't handle
it by myself, but simple because it would have been more fun with him. I
can just imagine him asking about this or that movie, or if he could listen
to this or that song, and I would answer every question and happily play
the tunes he wanted to hear. Maybe a day might come when Sander and I would
be up in that second bedroom picking movies to watch or music to play while
we would have a round of Risk or something... I know I shouldn't get my
hopes up too high, but we'd started off nicely and somehow I believed some
of my dreams might even come true.

The working week flashed forward quickly. Business was picking up, with the
forthcoming, usually far from hot, summer, people and enterprises alike
were installing new climate control systems to make sure they wouldn't
break too much of a sweat. The rumors about the new plant in Australia
spread like a fire and especially the big bosses were getting edgy. I still
didn't understand why, since our plant was only another department of the
Kyoto head office and I didn't think we'd be involved in the development of
the Aussie factory. I wasn't high up the ladder enough to know details
about the whole situation and I didn't pay too much attention to it, trying
to do my job right. Still, I would listen carefully whenever my superiors
would discuss the matter to learn more about it.

Friday night, after quite a busy working week, I went out for a quick
bite. There was a family sitting at the table next to me, a young couple
with three kids. The eldest of the kids was a boy about Sander's age, a
rather cute looking boy at that. But unlike before, I didn't try and keep
an eye on him as I would usually do when I encountered boys. Somehow, all I
was thinking then was how much I longed to see Sander again. It was then
that I knew I was totally smitten with my neighbor boy, even after only
meeting him once. I realized quickly how hard it would become to not let my
infatuation blur my common sense and my conscience. I had absolute no wish
to jeopardize a possible close friendship with such a wonderful child, and
risk ruining both our lives in the process. Sander had told his grandmother
he'd wanted me to be his friend, and that's what I intended to be. Nothing
less, but definitely nothing more.

When I was finishing up on my dinner, the young family already replaced by
a bunch of rather annoying teenage girls, my phone rang. The display showed
Annie's number. At first I didn't know why she would call, but then
remembered she hadn't passed me the details for tomorrow's football match
yet. I'd promised her I'd give Sander a surprise visit and to try and find
out why the boy was always so glum when he returned from the games.

"Hello, Annie," I said as I answered the phone. "What's the news?"

"Hello, Robert," she replied. "You haven't forgotten your promise, have
you?"

"How could I forget," I quickly answered. "I try not to make promises I
don't intend to keep."

"Okay, then," she said. "I checked Sander's calendar and he's playing a
home match, not an away match as I first thought."

"Oh, okay. When's the kickoff?" I asked

"Errr... 9.15 in the morning," Annie informed me, probably with the
calendar right by her side. "Sander has to be there by 8.30 for changing
and warmups."

"I'll try and get there around kickoff time, then," I told her. "I hope he
doesn't see me before the game begins. I don't want him to think I'm
checking up on him, or something."

"He probably doesn't know you're suspecting something's wrong," Annie
reassured me. "He thinks pretty highly of you, for some reason, so I think
he'll be happy to see you there."

"I hope so," I sighed. "What do I do if something does turn out to be out
of place?"

"That depends on the problem, I suppose," Annie pondered. "I'm gonna trust
your judgment on this one."

"Are you sure?" I wanted to make sure. "I don't want to end up making
things worse for your grandson."

"I think you underestimate yourself, there, Robert," Annie then said as if
she already knew all about me. "The fact that you picked up on how Sander's
emotional reactions when he talks about his football games so quickly tells
me you're more clever than you think. And you obviously care about him, so
I trust you to do whatever you think necessary."

"I wish I had your confidence, Annie," I sighed again, my worries only
slightly eased. "Anyway, whatever happens, I'll give him a ride home after
the match and then tell you all about it afterwards."

"That's perfect, Robert," Annie said. "I guess I'll be seeing around lunch
tomorrow, then."

"Yep," I confirmed. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye," Annie concluded.

After hanging up, I got up and went home. I watched a bit of tv but
couldn't help but think of what tomorrow's outcome would be. It was hard to
predict what would happen and without knowing what the problem really was,
if there was any at all, it was even worse to come up with a possible
solution. At night in bed, I wasn't counting sheep, I was imagining all
sorts of things that could happen, most of them ending with my new friend
angry with me for messing things up and our friendship terminated before it
even began. No, I did not have pleasant dreams that night.

So, when I woke up the next morning, it was with much less enthusiasm than
I expected to have. My get up and go had clearly gotten up and gone. After
all, I would be seeing Sander again. But the gloomy outcomes of my dreams
had put made that event look a lot less thrilling than it should have
been. The chance of ruining something beautiful and hurting the boy in the
process were not good for my confidence in my capability to solve whatever
issues there were at hand. Still, the boy's grandmother pretty much counted
on me, if not for dealing with the matter, then at least for seeing him
safely home.

The one thing that motivated me was the fact that Sander had told Annie
that he wanted me to be his friend. If he did change his mind about that,
at least I wanted it to be because of something I did wrong, not because I
didn't have the heart to do anything about it and give him the idea that I
couldn't care less. I did care. A lot. So, even if I couldn't help him, at
least I wanted him to know that I was there for him, unconditionally.

About an hour later I found myself on the parking lot of the local sports
stadium. I parked the car and started going in the main direction of the
football fields. I was a few minutes early, but it took me a while to find
where Sander's team was, so I'd missed the kickoff, but with the directions
of the volunteers there, I quickly located the right field. It didn't take
long for me to spot Sander. He was currently standing a few feet behind the
sideline, hopping up and down a bit and waving his arms to stay warm, along
with two of his teammates, waiting their turn to fall in for one of the
kids in the game. I then found a bunch of people standing behind him and
the others, rooting for their kids and the team they played for. I blended
in with that crowd, suspecting them to be the parents of Sander's
teammates.

I knew a tad bit of youth's football from a colleague at work. The Under
10s played two halves of twenty-five minutes, on one half of a football
field and the teams were 8 players each. I was standing behind the
substitutes but made sure to see everything of the game that I could, in
the meanwhile keeping an eye on Sander. And it didn't take me long before I
realized what the problem was.

I was there for fifteen minutes and had seen reserve players go on and off
the field in an almost smooth rotation. But not Sander. Not once did his
coach call his name, not one second had he been in the game, and after five
minutes he'd given up on the hopping, sitting down on the grass, completely
uninterested in how his team was doing (4-1 down and nowhere near able to
fight their way back in the game). I didn't know Sander's qualities as a
player, but in my mind I figured that everyone should get his chance to
play. The worst thing was that I quickly got the feeling that it was
deliberate. Still, I didn't want to jump to conclusions, so with a few more
minutes of the first half left, I decided to make some friendly inquiries
with one of the other kids' parents.

"Pardon me, sir," I carefully interrupted the man standing beside
me. "Could you tell me who's playing?"

"Oh, of course," the man said, only briefly turning to me. "These are the
Under 10's of Rood-Zwart Doomkapelle against VC Schuiferskerke."

"And you're with Rood-Zwart?" I continued.

"Yeah," he nodded. "They're doing their best, but as usual, without any
success."

"Not the first time they're trailing, then, this season?" I asked.

"They've actually done little else, to be honest," the man confessed.

And now it was time to bring up the subject of one unhappy little
substitute player. "Is their coach keeping his joker ready?" I asked,
pointing at my poor little friend.

"You mean Sander, over there?" the man asked, sighing deeply. "That's the
worst of it all. The past few years he was actually one of the better
player. They usually won when he was playing."

"Then why isn't he putting him in the game?" I wanted to know, my
suspicions starting to become true.

"Beats me," the man said, with a tune that actually sounded like genuine
compassion for Sander. "Why are you asking?"

"Oh, sorry," I apologized, knowing I couldn't keep firing all these
questions at him for no reason. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Robert, I'm a
friend of the boy's grandmother, Annie."

"Aah, the kind teacher," the man smiled. "My son's in her class. She's his
favorite teacher."

"Yeah, that's her," I smiled back. "She's tutoring some of her pupils this
morning and asked me if I could pick him up after the game."

"Cool," the man said understandingly. "Make sure to join us at our table
after the game."

"If things are as how you tell them to be, I might not be staying that
long," I then said. "Has Sander been playing at all, this season?"

"I have missed a few of their matches," the man told me, "but I haven't
seen him play during the ones that I was there. The kid's always there,
though, rarely misses a practice, always showing up on time for matches."

"But you don't know why he doesn't get to play?" I asked. "Haven't you ever
asked the coach about it?"

"Honestly, no, I haven't," the man confessed guiltily. "Some of the others
might have."

"I see," I sighed deeply, knowing that watt I intended to do next was a big
risk. "Well, Annie had told me Sander'd been a bit down lately, whenever he
returned from a game. She asked me to try and find out. Thank you very much
for telling me all this, I appreciate your honesty."

"Sure, but..." the man said, understanding that I was far from amused.

Right on time, the referee blew the whistle for half time. Apparently the
kids stayed on the field during half time, since there was only a five
minute break. When the coach didn't even bother calling Sander to join his
teammates for a pep talk (the score now being 6-2), I knew I could not let
this carry on any longer.

"Sander!" I shouted as I approached the boy, still sitting on the cold,
humid grass, on the verge of catching a cold.

The boy immediately turned around. When he saw me, his face lit up like a
flare and then immediately became sad again, seeing that I didn't look
happy. "Hey, Robert!" he said a bit shakily, not knowing why I looked so
pissed off. "What are you doing here?"

"Taking you home," I simply stated. "Go get changed and meet me out here."

"Huh? What? Why?" the boy stammered, trying hard to hold back his tears.

"I think you know why, Sander," I said, softening my voice and kneeling
down to be level with him. "I came here to cheer you on and instead I have
to find out your coach doesn't let you play. I'll have none of that."

"But, but..." Sander tried.

"We'll talk about it when we get home, okay?" I suggested as I held his
chin up.

"Okay," the boy gave in. Barely lifting his feet, he walked off the field
in the general direction of the dressing rooms. Before going in he looked
back, first at me, then at his teammates and then went inside.

"What's going on here?" I then heard a stern voice behind me say as I got
back up. "Where did Sander go?"

I turned around and saw the coach standing before me. The man seemed to be
about my age, a few inches shorter and a larger pants size. I'd already
concluded that his leaving Sander at the sideline all season was
deliberate, so I knew it would be hard to feel some sympathy for the
man. Still, I had to make sure not to blow up my little friend's bridges,
because I did not intend to rob him off his favorite pastime. So, I put up
my most polite smile and offered my hand.

"Oh, sorry, sir," I tried to apologize. "I'm a friend of Annie, Sander's
grandmother. She asked me to pick him up after the game."

"I'm sure she did, but that was only halftime," he said in a mockery tone,
probably mistaking me for some fool who doesn't know the first thing about
football.

"Oh, I know," I told him. "But Sander told me he wasn't feeling too well
and he looked a bit feverish, so I thought it'd be better to take him home
and make sure he doesn't get sick."

"He seemed okay to me," the coach answered, doubting my excuses.

"Well, you know how boys are," I shrugged. "Always trying to look
tough. Still, I can't take any chances. I wouldn't want Annie to blame me
for keeping her grandson out in the cold when he should be sitting by the
stove."

"I suppose," the coach said. "Tell Annie to let me know if he's going to
make it to practice and the next game."

"Will do," I promised.

At that very moment, Sander joined us, carrying what looked to be a rather
heavily packed sports bag. Coach was the first to spot him.

"Not feeling well, then, Sander?" he asked in a way that told he couldn't
care less.

Sander glanced at me briefly, allowing me enough time to throw in a wink of
the eye and then turned back to his coach. "My throat's a bit sore and I'm
cold."

"We best get you home quickly, then," I said before the man could persuade
the boy to stay.

"If you say so," Sander's coach, who I disliked more and more by the
minute. "I'll be seeing you at practice, then."

"Uh-uh," the boy simply nodded and then turned to me again.

"Come on then," I beckoned Sander to follow me as I turned to the coach one
last time. "I'll tell Annie to give you a call in case he can't make it."

"Whatever," the man said and he walked off, back to the others.

"Want me to take that," I offered, pointing at the boy's bag as we left the
football pitch.

Sander just shrugged and handed me his bag. I escorted him to my car and
had him sit in the front seat, making sure he buckled up. The fifteen
minutes needed for the ride home happened in a deafening silence. Sander
was sulking with his head against the window, I was desperately trying to
find a way to bring the subject up. In the end I decided to wait for the
comfort of his home, preferably with his grandmother backing me
up... Unless of course she totally disagreed with what I had done. Still,
deep inside, I believed getting Sander out of there had been the best
option and I was bound to defend my actions.

Annie backing me up would not be an option, or so it turned out. When we
got back at Sander's place, we found it tightly locked, with no key at
hand. I suppose us being home earlier than usual had something to do with
it.

"You best come with me, buddy," I told Sander. "I'll text your grandmother
to tell her where you are so she can pick you up when she gets home."

"Okay," the boy sighed, looking at me with the saddest little eyes. At
least he didn't seem angry with me, or so I hoped.

We drove the final few yards towards my home and out of habit, I parked the
car into the garage. I invited him inside and carried his bag into the
hallway where he could pick it up when his grandmother came for him. I
showed him to the lounge where he dropped down on the couch, not bothering
to take off his jacket. I knew he was at the verge of tears and I really
hoped he would want to tell me his side of the story. That probably meant
luring him out of his shell.

"Would you care for some hot chocolate?" I offered.

Sander looked up at me, hesitated a while and then slowly nodded, accepting
the offer. I went into the kitchen and started working on his well earned
hot drink. I always go about that the long way, melting chocolate 'au bain
marie" as they call it, before adding fresh milk to it and a bit of vanilla
and cinnamon for extra flavor. Usually I'd even add a bit of whipped cream,
but I hadn't bought any yet.

It took me a while to get the Sander his hot chocolate, but that gave the
boy some time to cool down and relax a bit. In the meantime, I texted his
grandmother to let him know he was with me. I left out the incident at the
club, thinking it'd be better to talk to Sander first, before letting Annie
know what had happened. When I served Sander his drink and a couple of
apricot jam cookies, his jacket was lying next to him on the couch and he'd
even taken the liberty to kick off his shoes. At least the boy looked a bit
more relaxed, but when he looked up at me to thank me for his snack, he was
still in the same mood he'd been in during our ride home. I then sat right
next to him, a whole set of opening lines running through my mind and then
smiled at him.

"You're probably mad at me for what pulling you out of the game early," I
finally said in my gentlest voice.

He stared at me, or right through me for all that matter and just
shrugged. He didn't say anything for a while, but after a while he sighed
deeply. "Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice trembling a bit.

"Because I had to," I told him straightforward. "I could not stand there
and do nothing while you sat there another twenty five minutes, waiting for
something that wasn't going to happen."

Sander then realized I knew more about the situation than he expected. When
it hit him I'd found out about what he'd hidden so well the past few
months, even without him telling me, the floods burst open and tears now
came running down his cheeks. I moved a bit closer to the weeping boy and
wrapped an arm around his shoulder, gently pulling him in, letting him feel
it was okay to let it all out. Surrendering to his tears, he buried his
face into my shoulder and cried his little heart out. It made my own heart
bleed and my anger towards that jerk of a man who's his coach grew
exponentially. Of course I could not let that stand in the way of what I
had to do right now: give comfort to the boy. I wrapped my arms around him
and gently caressed his back, giving him all the time he needed to get it
all out off his system.

After a couple of minutes he slowly calmed down, his crying turning into
snorting and sniffing. I held onto the boy and soothed him, whispering
softly to him. Finally, he sat up again, his eyes all red, tears dribbling
down his cheek. I reached out for a box of tissues on the coffee table and
offered them to him, allowing him time to blow his nose. I couldn't help
but feel sorry for the little fellow, but I was somehow relieved that he
had found comfort with me. When he finished wiping his face clean on both
tissues and sleeves, he laid his head back down on my shoulder. I gave him
some extra moments to relax before I decided to pick up our conversation.

"Feeling better," I asked him in a hushed voice, gently brushing his hair
with my fingers. Sander just nodded and sighed deeply, for the rest not
moving a muscle. "Your hot chocolate must have gotten cold by now," I then
said randomly. Want me to make you a fresh cup, or maybe heat it up a bit?"

That brought some life back into the boy. He slowly raised himself up and
turned to where his chocolate milk sat on the table, untouched. He reached
out and took a sip. "It's still okay," he let me know, before taking
another swallow.

"You sure? It's no trouble if you want it a bit hotter," I offered.

"No, it's fine. It's yummy," he then smiled.

"Glad you like it, buddy," I smiled back, reaching out to give him a few
pats on the shoulder.

To prove that he did like his hot drink, he lifted the cup he still held in
his hand and finished it in one go. Triumphantly he popped the cup down on
the table and licked the chocolaty mustache of his lips for emphasis. At
least he seemed to lighten up a bit again. But then his little face turned
serious again, knowing that there was still some things he'd have to
clarify. It was Sander who popped the first question.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"About something being wrong with those football matches?" I return the
question, wanting to know for sure we were talking about the same thing.

"Uhuh," he nodded.

"Because you kinda avoided the subject last week, during dinner," I
explained. "And your grandmother confirmed it when I mentioned that to
her."

"Was I that obvious," he sighed, looking as if he'd betrayed himself.

"A bit," I smiled. "Why did you never talk to your grandmother about this?"

"Dunno..." he said. "I guess I was afraid she wouldn't allow me to play
football anymore if she knew."

"Really? I find that hard to believe, Sander," I reassured him. "She knows
you like it. I don't think she'd take that away from you so quickly."

"Maybe," the boy simply shrugged.

"Didn't she ever ask you if something was wrong?" I wanted to know.

"Sometimes," Sander admitted. "But I usually just said it was because we'd
lost again."

"I see," I nodded. "Anyway, it's admirable that you're still holding
on. Most people would have given up a lot sooner."

"I guess..."

"But this can't go on, and you know that," I carried on, not letting him
finish his sentence and letting him know I was dead set on getting this
solved.

"It's only a few more weeks before the season ends," Sander rebuked. "I can
keep up for that long."

"I bet you can, buddy," I said. "But what if your coach stays with the team
next season. Are you going to let another year pass like this?"

Sander looked at me, a bit offended by my point of view. "If needs be," he
finally shrugged.

"I'm afraid your grandmother might indeed make you quit the team if this
doesn't end right here and now," I warned him.

"She doesn't have to know about this," the boy said stubbornly.

"She does, Sander, and I hope I won't have to be the one telling her," I
said, in a tone that showed him I was not kidding. "Look, I can see how
much football means to you, but something has to change about how things go
right now."

"Why? It's not that bad," Sander kept trying.

"It is, my little friend," I sighed. "Because instead of loving the game,
you'll end up getting so sick and tired of it, you won't even want to play
anymore. I don't want that to happen and I know you don't either."

"No," he agreed, dropping his defenses. "But what can I do?"

"What can we do," I corrected him. "You're not on your own in this,
Sander. I don't know what we can do, right now, but something has to
happen. That's why it's better to tell your grandmother the whole story,
when she gets home. She might know what to do."

Sander's desperate look told me how much he dreaded talking to his
grandmother about this. "Okay, I'll tell her," he surrendered. "But only if
you're there, when I do."

"You can count on me, buddy," I smiled, his trust in me
heartwarming. "Always."

"Thanks, Robert," he then smiled back at me and before I knew it, he'd
wrapped his little arms around me in a big hug. I did the same and held him
close to me.

I'm quite positive that we would have sat there like that for quite a while
if we weren't interrupted by the doorbell. It was close to midday, which
meant it was probably Annie picking her grandson up for lunch. Reluctantly
letting go off the little boy in my arms I got up and answered the door,
indeed finding Annie standing on the porch. I invited her in and showed her
to the lounge where Sander was. The boy got up with a smile and gave her a
quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Ready to go home, sweetie," she asked Sander.

"I just have to put my shoes back on," he told her, already reaching for
his sneakers.

"Take your time, sport," I said and then took Annie aside for a bit.

While Sander was getting ready to go home, I briefed Annie on how things
went this morning. I also told her I'd advised Sander he should talk to her
about the matter, but that he wanted me to be present when he did so.

"Well, if you like chicken stew and mashed potatoes," Annie proposed, "then
maybe we can discuss things over dinner."

"Yeah, Robert, please come," Sander begged, having snuck up on us, putting
on his jacket.

"Dinner it is," I quickly accepted the offer, unable to resist my little
buddy's enthusiasm.

"That's settled, then," Annie said. "Ready to go home, sweetie?"

"Yep, I'm ready," the boy nodded and then hugged me again, briefly. "See
you later, ey, Robert."

"Sure thing, buddy," I said, returning his hug and patting his back a
couple of times. "And don't worry about a thing, we'll sort this out," I
added.

"Uhuh, okay," he simply smiled and then walked towards the front door.

"Here, Sander, you go ahead," Annie told the boy when he opened the door,
handing him a set of keys. "I'll be there in a minute.

"Yep," he nodded, picked up his sports bag and darted off home.

With the kid out of hearing distance, Annie turned back to me, smiling
kindly. "He seems to be okay," she concluded.

"Yeah, but the situation is worse than he lets out," I let her know. "He'll
tell you all about it later on. All that I'm concerned about right now, is
finding a way to fix things. I might know something I can try, but Sander
will have to agree on it."

"What do you have in mind?" Annie wanted to know.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather wait and tell you during dinner," I said
vaguely. "I have to make a phone call first, to make sure if what I'm
thinking of can be done."

"Okay, then," she accepted. "Still, it's good to know Sander's found
someone who supports him. I know you won't let him down."

"I'll try not to," I promised. "He's a good kid. I'm gonna do my best and
be the friend he wants me to be."

"He already knows that, Robert," Annie reassured me. "I better go see to
his lunch, then. I'll be seeing you in a couple of hours."

"Okay, Annie," I nodded, escorting her out.

We said our goodbyes and I saw her off home. I went back inside and fixed
me a quick lunch, existing out of cheese and ham sandwiches and some
instant tomato soup. I waited another hour before making that call I'd
talked about. It was a long shot, but it was worth trying. In my opinion,
my idea was Sander's best option and if things worked out okay, it would be
up to me to convince the boy that it was.

A phone call, one that pretty much increased my next phone bill tenfold,
later, I decided to relax a bit for a while, before heading over to have
another dinner with my favorite neighbor (I hadn't met many others to
compare, but I don't expect any to be able to compete with
Sander). Hopefully it would be just as pleasant an evening as the week
before, but that would more or less depend on how Sander would take news I
had for him after that lengthy phone call. Good news, in my opinion, but
the end decision would be his and his only. Anyway, I grabbed a book to
read, turned on the stereo to play the latest Black Keys album and sat down
to chill, with a cold 'Duvelke' to calm my nerves a bit.

The next couple of hours passed way too quickly and I almost didn't make it
on time for the invitation. I took a quick shower, changed into a different
pair of jeans and a yellow and black sweater and did my best to look
decent. I don't think Sander would care about what I looked like, but I
consider it impolite to show up for dinner looking like a vagabond. I
arrived just in time, with Sander already impatiently peering out of the
window and waving at me as soon as he saw me turn up their front yard. I
didn't need to ring the bell, because the little fellow was already opening
the door, rushing me inside.

"Hey, there, buddy," I greeted him as he held the door open for me.

"Hi," he return the greeting, looking overjoyed to see me.

He slammed the door shut, provoking a nasty reproach from his grandmother
and then wrapped his arms around me in what was becoming a habitual hug. A
habit I gladly welcomed. Then he added another dimension to his hug by
pulling me down by the neck and planting a wet kiss on the cheek. I then
decided to go the whole nine yards. With his arms still around my neck, I
wrapped my arm around him and lifted him up in the air. He quickly got the
picture and eagerly folded his legs around my waste, allowing me to carry
him inside. My other arm I held underneath his little butt for support so
he would feel secure in my grasp. When I went inside, I found Annie setting
the table and she shook her head in disbelief at the sight before her.

"I found this one at your door," I told her. "Any idea what we should do
with him?"

"I don't know, Robert," she laughed. "It can be dangerous to take in
strays."

"Hey, I'm not a stray," Sander retorted.

"No, I guess you're not," I winked at him. "Strays don't usually wear
pajamas."

"Eèèh," the boy shot back, sticking out his tongue. "Not
funny."

"He seems harmless enough," I said as I looked at the boy's
grandmother. "I'd take my chances."

"If he promises to leave my front door intact, he can stay," Annie then
agreed, cleverly adding a kind warning about not slamming doors.

"I promise," Sander quickly agreed.

"Well, then, why don't you two sit down," the boy's grandmother invited
us. "Dinner should be ready in a minute."

"Gladly," I smiled as I bent down to put Sander back on his feet.

The obviously affectionate little boy only let go after giving me another
kiss and then sat down, patting the seat of the same chair I'd sat on the
last time. Annie then appeared with first a large pot of steaming hot
chicken stew, followed by another plate of mashed potatoes. She scooped us
each a large heap and threatened us with the dishes if we didn't eat it all
up. Before I attacked the once again deliciously smelling food, I told her
we'd be doing dishes together. Me as a token of gratitude for the meal,
Sander to make up for slamming that door. The boy gave me a reproachful
look, but never complained about being dragged into doing this chore.

During dinner we talked about trivial stuff, mostly. Sander was a bit more
quiet than last week, but I understood that he was a bit edgy about what
we'd agreed on: telling his grandmother how things really were with his
football team. After finishing our dinner, grandmother excuses herself for
a bit, giving me the time to make a little deal with the boy.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any to have that little talk with your
grandmother, don't you think," I said.

"I guess," the boy shrugged, slumping down a bit.

"It'll be okay, buddy," I reassured him, gently squeezing his shoulder for
support. "You know what we'll do? I'll go do those dishes and then the two
of you have a quiet chat together."

"But you promised you'd stay with me when I told her," he reminded me.

"I am, buddy," I told him. "I'll be right there in the kitchen. When you
need me, just call for me."

"Okay," he sighed deeply, understanding that it's no use putting it off any
longer.

"Good boy," I smiled at him. At that very moment, Annie joined us
again. "I'll go do the dishes, now" I told her. "I believe there's
something this little fellow here needs to get something off his chest."

The woman quickly grasped my intentions and just nodded, telling Sander
they should sit on the couch to be more relaxed. I got up and started
gathering the used pots and plates and cutlery and carried everything in
the kitchen, where I filled the sink with lukewarm water and a bit too much
detergent. When I went back for a second load of things to add to the
dishes, I found Sander looking down a bit, quietly telling his story,
practically inaudible for me. I didn't mind, though, this was something the
boy had to do at his own pace. Pretty happy to find him finally informing
his grandmother, I retreated back into the kitchen where I washed
everything crystal clear. A quarter of an hour later, when I was about done
with the dishes, Annie came into the kitchen, taking a washcloth and wiping
the cooker clean.

"I know it will sound crazy," she told out of the blue. "But colliding with
you last week was the best thing that could have happened to that boy."

"How do you mean?" I asked, totally puzzled by her remark.

"He wouldn't have met you if he hadn't," she explained. "And I'll still be
guessing why those football matches were so troublesome for him."

"I don't know," I said. "I'm just as amazed as you are he carried on like
that. There's a thin like between being perseverant and just plain
stubborn."

"You got that right, Robert," she agreed. "I think it was a bit of
both. Still, you got him to talking about it. How did you manage to drag it
out off him?"

"Errrr, I didn't. Not exactly," I confessed. "I think that would have been
pointless. I pretty much learned about it all by talking to one of the
other kids' parents."

"So you knew what was going on before you actually talked," she understood.

"Pretty much, even thought the man I talked too didn't exactly tell me the
whole store, " I admitted. "When we got back, I just decided to confront
him with the problem at hand. There was the chance that I'd got it wrong,
but I expected him to give me his side of the story if I had interpreted it
all incorrectly."

"Interesting approach, Robert," Annie complemented me. Or at least I think
it was a complement. She might as well be a bit angry at me for taking such
a risk.

"I guess," I replied, scratching the back of my head. "I was glad I'd
understood things as they were, or it could have been messy. Luckily it
turned out okay."

"Yeah, that's what counts in the end, I suppose," she agreed. "So, what
happens next?"

"Oy, straight to business, huh," I sighed. "I did make that phone call I
told you about. The outcome was pretty positive, but nothing's settled as
yet. It'll all depend on what Sander wants."

"He wants to play," Annie simple stated.

"Obviously," I nodded. "That's why I made that phone call."

"Who did you call, then?" Annie wanted to know.

"A colleague at work," I told her. "He's coaching the Under 10's of Racing
Doomkapelle. I explained the whole situation to him and asked him if there
was a chance to transfer Sander to his team."

"Racing Doomkapelle?" the lady sounded surprised. "Don't they play at a
higher level?"

"The majors do," I nodded. "Their youth teams come out in different
competitions, ranging from national to local, like the team Sander is in
now."

"I see," Annie said understandingly. "And you believe that would be better
for Sander? Wouldn't it be better to talk with his coach first?"

"I've met the man, Annie," I sighed, knowing that her suggestion would be
the first option. "I didn't like him. I don't think a friendly chat will
change anything."

"You'd be pulling him away from his friends," Annie warned me.

"I'm aware of that," I told her. "That's why it has to be his choice. I'm
pretty sure he'll make friends with Racing, too."

"Then I suppose you should go and talk to him," the boy's grandmother
finally allowed. "But you'll respect his decision, right?"

"Of course," I promised, as I dropped the towel I'd been holding during our
entire conversation.

After getting the go ahead from Annie, I went into the living room, finding
Sander on the couch watching some sitcom on tv. When he saw me he moved
over a bit, clearly wanting me to sit right next to him. I did and it only
took him a couple of counts to shuffle closer to me again. Apparently he
wanted to be as close to me physically as possible. I gladly let him to
cuddle up right next to me, laid an arm over his shoulder and waited for
him to get comfy.

"So, how did your chat with your grandmother go?" I wanted to know.

"Okay," he simple replied. "She said I can still play football."

"See, I told you not to worry about that," I told him. "And now it's my
turn to talk to you."

"About what?" the boy wanted to know, already feeling another serious
discussion was coming up.

"About how we can make sure you'll actually play," I elaborated. "You want
to be able to score goals for your team, right?"

"Uhuh, yeah, I do!" he nodded. "I scored a lot of goals last year."

"So I have been told," I said, remembering what the kind man had told
me. "I also heard you were actually pretty good."

"Maybe, I don't know," he shrugged modestly.

"Well, we should find out, don't you think?" I suggested. "Does the name
Racing Doomkapelle mean anything?"

"You mean the big club in town? Sure!" he nodded, raising his head to be
able to watch me as we spoke, clearly wondering where this was going.

"Good, then I don't have to explain that part to you," I continued. "If you
could, would you like to play for Racing?"

"You mean, instead of Rood-Zwart?" Sander wanted to make sure. "That'd be
great, but I don't think I'm good enough for that."

"I don't know about that, Sander," I said. "But wouldn't you like to find
out if you are good enough?"

"You mean testing," he understood what I was referring to.

"Yep," I confirmed.

"They only invite players for tests after scouting," the boy told me,
clearly knowing more about it than I expected. "I haven't been playing, so
they won't be inviting me for trials."

"No, probably not," I sighed and then grinned at him. "Unless someone you
know shares an office with their coach."

"Huh, what do you mean?" the boy asked, lost in my train of thoughts.

"Well, Racing's Under 10's coach is a colleague of mine, and a pretty good
friend," I explained to the confused little boy. "I gave him a call this
afternoon and told him a bit about you. He said he's willing to give you a
chance to show him what you've got."

"What? Really? I can try out with Racing?" the boy almost shouted, his eyes
almost jumping out of their sockets. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nuh-uh. I'm dead serious, kiddo," I smiled at him. "Just say yes and I'll
call him back in the morning to let him know you're on. But you have to be
absolutely sure you want to do this."

"I do want to do it," Sander nodded anxiously. His then suddenly looked
worried and asked me: "But what if I'm not good enough for his team."

"That wouldn't be too big a problem," I said. "There's enough players your
age playing with Racing for three teams, all in different competitions,
depending on their skills. After he sees you play, he'll decide which team
you fit best with."

"You mean I'd be playing for Racing, no matter what?" Sander asked, trying
to grasp what I meant.

"That's pretty much the idea, yes," I nodded. "After I learned how your
coach treats you, I thought the best option for you was to transfer to
another club. I've heard Mark, that's my colleague and maybe your new
coach, talk about his coaching often enough that they're a lot more
professional and that they would never set a player aside for no
reason. But it's totally up to you, Sander. My phone call with Mark, this
afternoon, was only to find out if there was a chance you could play with
them. Nothing's decided yet."

"I want to play again," Sander stated firmly. "I don't really want to leave
my friends, though."

"I understand," I nodded. "But what I'm going to say right now might sound
harsh. If your teammates are really your friends, why didn't they ever
stand up to your coach and ask him to let you play?"

"Dunno," the boy pondered seriously. "Maybe they were scared the coach
would do the same to them."

"That's not unlikely," I agreed. "Still, no one seemed to be too concerned
about how you felt about all this. Not your teammates, not their
parents... I'm afraid the only one who can change anything is you."

Sander sighed deeply and turned to his grandmother for aid. "What do you
think I should do, granny?" he asked her.

"I'm afraid things are as Robert tells them," she answered. "Only you can
decide what's best. But if I were you, I wouldn't pass up on the
opportunity to try out for Racing."

Sander turned to me again, bit his lower lip in deep thought and then
smiled brightly, having reached a decision. "I'll do it. I want to play
again, not matter what level it is."

"I couldn't agree with you more," I smiled back at him. "That was a tough
decision to make, Sander. I'm proud of you, you know."

"Really?" he asked, a bright smile on his face.

"You bet," I nodded as I grabbed his hand to show him I meant it. "And I'll
be there to watch you during your try outs."

"You promise?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, buddy," I promised.

"Thank you!" Sander said happily and then gave me another one of his
trademark bear hugs. He then let go again, all excited. "So, when do I get
to do that try out?" he wanted to know.

"Well, Mark said that if you decided quickly, he could probably arrange for
you to do it next Saturday," I said. "All I have to do is make another call
to let him know what your decision was."

"Cool!" the little footy fanatic said cheerfully.

"Now that I'm sure that you want to go through with it, I'll let him know
first thing Monday morning, when I see him at work," I promised. "After
work, I'll hop in and tell you where and when you're expected."

"Great," Sander smiled with pure joy and then jumped over to his
grandmother, sitting on her lap and giving her a loving hug. "Isn't it
great, granny... I'll be playing for Racing!"

"That's wonderful, honey," she said proudly, holding him tightly.

As she held her grandson in a warm embrace, he whispered a 'thank you' to
me and I only smiled, happy that I'd been able to do something to get
Sander's problems solved. It had been an inspiration of the moment, but
it'd seemed like the best thing to do. Sander would now really be playing
during matches and if turned out to be a really talented player, he might
even be in the national league. No matter what, I'd make sure to be his
most fanatic supporter.

A minute or two later, Sander slid off Annie's lap again and stood before
me, smiling ear to ear. "Hey, do you want to play another game with me?" he
asked.

I briefly glanced at the clock on the wall and answered: "Of course,
buddy. Unless it's past your bedtime and there's no time left to play."

Annie then checked the time as well and nodded. "It's close to your
bedtime, but after so much serious talking, you can stay up a bit longer."

"Yay!" the little munchkin cheered anxiously, already grabbing my hand to
lift me out of the couch. "How about Battleship? Best out of three?"

"Game on, my little friend," I agreed, not really caring about what game
we'd play.

Sander then had me sit down at the table while he hurried upstairs to his
room to fetch the game. A few minutes later we were firing torpedos at each
other. Annie had once again made the living room dim, with enough light for
us to sink each other's marine forces. It was only during these moments
that I dared look more closely at the boy, this time in nothing but his
pajamas. He looked adorable in them. His shirt was grey with red sleeves
and had a drawing of a cute litter of lab puppies on the front. His pants
were the same gray and were covered in red puppy paw prints.

Besides being extremely delightful in them, I noticed two more things about
Sander's pajamas. One, they fit very snug on the boy's lithe body and were
probably a size or two too small for him. His shirt didn't quite reach
below the waistband of his pants, which in their turn, fit his hips like a
second skin and all but concealed the perfect shape of his little butt. His
shirt riding up a bit as he leaned forward, left a couple of inches of his
back bare. Two, the tightness of his pajamas bothered Sander quite a
bit. He would pull on his sleeves and the bottom of his shirt whenever he
wasn't placing red or white pawns on his board. Now and then he even
sighed, annoyed with his pajamas and even had to pull up the back of his
pants a bit to avoid more of his backside to be revealed.

All this had an unwelcome effect on me. In its own way, the whole picture
was quite erotic and turned me on a bit, making it a bit difficult to focus
on the game. Luckily, Sander was once again very talkative, mostly about
the prospect of playing for a bigger team and easily sinking my submarine
in the process. That kept me vigilant, making sure I did not let his fight
with his pajamas get too much of my attention. Still, that didn't always
keep me from checking up on the amount of bare skin that was revealed as
the boy moved around. At some point, when he was on the verge of winning a
second round of marine warfare, his focus was fully on the game, forgetting
about his pants inching down for a while. Only after he sunk my cruiser and
claimed his victory, he reached back to pull his pants back up, giggling
when he realized a bit of his butt had been showing.

When our eyes met at this for him embarrassing moment, I just smiled,
letting him understand that no harm was done. He smiled back, my hidden
message understood, and then declared war to me a third
time. Unfortunately, Annie announced Sander's bedtime, forcing him to sign
a piece treaty instead. A bit disappointed, but without complaining, he got
up and stood next to the table, ready to receive my goodnight wishes.

"I would have loved another round, buddy, but I'm afraid my ministry of
defense is out of funds and cannot afford new ships," I joked.

"Next time we'll play RISK," he suggested with much confidence.

"I see," I chuckled. "I'd better bring my white flag, then."

"That won't stop me from conquering the world, mister," he giggled at his
own wits.

"I was afraid of that, but it was worth a try," I laughed. "But before you
invade me territory, you best get a good night's sleep."

"I will," he smiled and then wrapped his arms around me again, leaning into
me. "Goodnight, Robert."

I hugged the boy close to me, cradling him a bit as I did, took the liberty
of kissing him on the top of his head and then allowed him to get up
again. "Sweet dreams, Sander," I said softly. "I'll be seeing you real
again real soon."

"Let's go, honey, off you go," Annie then ordered, gently pushing her
grandson off to bed. "I'll be down in a few minutes, Robert. I gotta see
make sure this one here's safe and sound in bed. You make yourself at home,
okay?"

"Sure," I smiled kindly and waved at the boy one last time. I was glad to
see him look so happy.

I then got up and invited myself to a cold drink in the kitchen. With a
glass of lemonade in my hand I sat down on the couch and briefly glanced at
the tv, which was running some film about some hysterical woman being
chased by I don't know what or who. Annie joined me five minutes later and
then made the most unexpected comment.

"There's a boy upstairs who will not go to sleep without a goodnight kiss
from you," she told me in a tone I didn't quite recognize.

"Oh," I nodded carefully, not knowing how to react. "What did you tell
him?"

"I told him you'd be up there in a minute," she replied. "So you'd be hurry
on up, but don't take too long."

"Errr, okay," I said as I slowly got up, not sure if this was serious.

"Upstairs and to the right," she instructed me.

I quickly followed her directions, not wanting to give her the chance to
change her mind. She probably wouldn't, though. In the end it was Sander
who'd asked for me and somehow I knew she didn't say no to him too
quickly. I was just wondering how deep into her territory I had walked by
now, because tucking the boy in had been her task all these years and I can
imagine she treasured those moments. I expected her awkward tone to come
from the fact that apparently, her grandson had chosen to share those
special times with me, even it would only be the one time. Upstairs, I
turned right, found one door ajar with a bit of light seeping through the
crack. I softly rapped the door to announce my arrival.

"Come in, Robert," the boy beckoned from behind the door.

Slowly I opened the door and walked inside. There I found the boy lying on
his back, lifting himself up by his elbows as I entered and smiling
happily. His covers slipped off him a bit as he raised himself up, showing
me a pair of frail bare shoulders. I paid the fact that he was missing a
shirt little mind as I pointed at a spot on the bed next to him, asking him
silently if I was allowed to sit down beside him. He simply nodded and
moved over a few inches to give me a bit of extra space.

I then took some time to check out the boy's room, which was all you could
expect from a room of a nine-year old lively football player. The wall
where his bed sat against was covered in posters and flags of his favorite
team, added by a few posters of world famous players like Messi. Next to
his bed was a small table with a digital alarm clock and two stuffed
doggies on top. The rest of his room existed out of a small wardrobe, a
desk with a laptop sitting on it and one of those IKEA blocks with baskets
full of toys, mostly LEGO. A chair on the other side of his bed served as
clothes hanger. There I discovered a grey and red pajama shirt and a pair
of puppy paw printed pajama pants. That meant the pair shoulders sticking
out from under the sheets were only part of the image. Underneath the
covers, a very naked boy was lying next to me.

With that knowledge, I turned to my little friend again. At the same time,
Sander turned to face me and it was clear that he'd been following my eyes
the whole time. The naughty little grin that appeared on his little face
told me he knew that I knew that he was no longer wearing any pajamas. That
did not seem to bother him, though. Why should it? It's not like I could
see his nakedness through the sheets and there's nothing special about
sleeping in the buff. Actually, it wasn't really a surprise, after last
week's bathrobe and seeing how much his pajamas had bugged him this
evening. So, I decided not to mention his preference in nightwear and leave
it at that. Still, I couldn't help but being curious about what he looked
like underneath those warm, comfy covers.

"Cool room," I finally remarked after that rather awkward moment of
silence.

"Hehe, thanks," he giggled. "Maybe we can play up here, next time," he
proposed innocently."

"Maybe," I just nodded. "But only if your grandmother agrees. I think she
prefers to keep an eye on us."

"Yeah, especially you," he teased, giggling again.

"I'm well aware of that, thank you," I laughed, ruffling his hair a
bit. "So, you wanted an extra goodnight kiss, then?"

"Uhuh, yeah," Sander nodded as he moved to sit upright, holding his covers
tightly against him to keep them from slipping further down. "And I wanted
to say thanks for what you did for me today, you know, with the football."

I grabbed his right hand, caressed it with my thumb as I held it and said:
"In all confidence, your grandmother told me last week you wanted me to be
your friend. So I thought it was time I stood up and acted like one."

"Does that mean you want to be my friend?" the sweet little kid
pleaded. "Forever?"

"For as long as you want me to be," I nodded, squeezing his hand a little.

"Cool!" he smiled happily. He then held out his arms, the sheets drooping
down in a heap in his lap and uncovering his bare chest. "Can I have that
goodnight kiss, now?" he practically begged.

I understood quickly that his much desired goodnight kiss was meant to
conceal our friendship. So, without even paying attention to his now bare
upper body, I tenderly wrapped my arms around him, caressing the soft,
delicate skin of his back and planted a wet kiss on his forehead, lingering
for a while. I added another kiss on his cheek and then held him tightly
against me. Only after holding onto the boy for a while, I released my grip
and moved back slowly to look him right in the eyes. The loving smile he
wore was almost hypnotizing. Almost as if I was on auto pilot, I reached
out and brushed my hand against the cheek I'd just kissed. He giggled
softly, my touch probably a bit ticklish.

"It's time to go to sleep now, my little prince," I whispered.

"Okay," Sander just whispered back, yawning as sleep started to creep into
his young body, and then laid back down, turning on his side.

"Sweet dreams, Sander," I said, tucking him in warmly and leaning over for
an extra kiss.

"'night, Robert," he now croaked, surrendering to the night.

I gave his little shoulder an extra squeeze and then got up, shuffling back
out of his room and waving him goodnight. Silently I shut the door to his
bedroom and then headed back downstairs. His grandmother smiled as I joined
her in the lounge again and offered me another drink, which I accepted.

"You're his hero, now," she said, taking me of guard a bit. "He adores
you."

"I'm just trying to be the friend he wants me to be," I said. "He's a
wonderful little guy."

"That he is," Annie agreed. "And I can see why he wants you as a
friend. The way you handled things today showed him you care a lot about
him."

"More than I thought," I admitted in all honesty. "I'm usually not as
enterprising as that, but for Sander, I just had to be. I'm glad it turned
out okay."

"He wouldn't have held it against you, even if it hadn't, Robert," Annie
told me. "You did something, which is all that would really matter to him."

"I suppose," I smiled politely, knowing when to take a compliment.

"So, I take it you found out about his sleeping habits?" Annie then changed
the subject.

It didn't take rocket science to know what she was referring to. I simply
nodded, intend to wait and see why she would mention that.

"What did you think about it?" she then asked.

Now that was one tricky question I had to think through a bit. "He seemed
comfortable and warm enough and I take it he sleeps well at night. That's
all that matters."

"He started this during a hot summer, some years ago," she told me. "At
first I thought it to be a bit naughty, but in the end, I made the same
conclusion you did. I was a bit worried you might think bad of him if you
found out he sleeps naked."

"It's not that big a deal, I suppose," I shrugged. "There's no one there to
see him and there's no harm in it. At least he's not doing it behind your
back or something."

"True," Annie agreed.

"Why do you ask?" I finally wanted to know, wondering if she had any
suspicions about the true reason was for not making this a big deal.

"I kind of think he wanted you to go up to his room, to learn how you'd
react if you knew." Annie explained. "I wanted to know how you felt about
it."

"Oh, I see," I said.

"And apparently, we feel the same way about it," Annie smiled.

"I guess we are," I nodded.

Relieved that this discussion hadn't turned out into a confession. Telling
her that besides being concerned about Sander's good night's rest, I also
thought it was nice to see him out off his pajamas (even if I'd only
briefly seen part of him), was probably not a good idea. If me going up to
Sander's room would become a weekly habit, chances were that I would be
seeing more of him. My friendship with the boy was what really counted, but
that didn't mean I wasn't curious about what he looked like. So it was
important to not give Annie a reason to put an end to our friendship.

We talked a little bit about other stuff after that. When it was time for
me to head home, she thanked me once again for what I'd done for her
grandson. I told her I would be calling my colleague first thing in the
morning to set a time and place for Sander's try out and that I would pass
the information to her as soon as possible. She then invited me to next
Saturday's dinner, telling me she'd gladly make it a weekly custom. I of
course accepted the invitation, already looking forward to another evening
with my little prince (did he pick up on that?). We then said our goodbyes
and with a deep sigh of disbelief I headed home. I missed Sander already.