Date: Sun, 28 Jul 2013 10:43:49 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pok Bepxtep <pok_bepxtep@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sander chapter 4

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Chapter 4: Showing Colors
--------------------------

To make sure I wouldn't oversleep, I'd set the alarm at 7 am to give me
enough time to get ready for what might become a very important day. I
needn't have worried, though, because I was too worked up to really sleep
much. It made me wonder how my little prince had gone through the night,
with his try outs coming up. He'd been quite at ease when he'd left my
home, though, the night before. I suppose I was making this a much bigger
deal than he was.

Annie and I had agreed that I'd pick Sander up around 8 am, too make sure
we wouldn't be late. Mark would be meeting us at the cafeteria so he could
meet Sander before warmups and introduce him to the team he'd be playing
with. In all the rush, I hadn't even asked Sander how he'd managed to keep
his forthcoming transfer a secret from his coach. That'd be a little
something to talk about during the ride there. I also had to make sure to
find out what reason the reason had been for his to keep him out of the
games.

At 7.15 I was eating some cereal for breakfast with a bit of music in the
back, flipping through the sports pages of my newspaper, when the doorbell
rang. I checked the clock, thinking I had kept my little friend waiting and
then got up to answer the door. Still, when I opened the door, I was
greeted by my favorite neighbors. With his grandmother in tow, Sander stood
before me, dressed in the tracksuit he'd been wearing when we'd first met
and a raincoat to cover from the drizzle outside, holding a yellow plastic
folder in his hands. Annie was holding his sports bag in one hand, an
umbrella in the other.

"Hi, there," I greeted them. "Am I late?"

"No, no," Annie quickly reassured me. "It's just that this little bundle of
nerves couldn't wait to get going."

"I see," I nodded and then smiled down at a boy who indeed looked like an
Energizer bunny on nuclear energy. "Better come in quickly, then."

"I'll leave Sander with you, Robert," Annie said. "I'm heading out for my
tutoring job myself, in a bit."

"Oh, ok," I nodded again. "I guess we'll be seeing each other for lunch,
then."

"Yes, that's right", Annie smiled. She handed me Sander's sports bag and
then kneeled down in front of her grandson. "Good luck with your match,
honey," she told the boy.

"Thanks, granny," Sander said, giving his grandmother a quick hug. "See you
later."

"Okay, sweetie," she replied, kissing him on the cheek. "Love you!"

"Love you too," the boy smiled and then turned to me. "Can we go now?"

"Ho, ho, cold your horses, little man," I chuckled, his overload in energy
already rubbing off on me. "Why don't you go inside, I'll be with you in a
sec."

"Okay," he said, already heading for the living room. I turned to his
grandmother and said: "I hope things will work out okay. I don't want to
see him disappointed again."

"I worry about that, too, Robert," Annie admitted. "But I have good hopes."

"Yeah, so do I. Mark's a good guy, he'll give Sander the chance he
deserves," I told Annie. "The rest is pretty much up to Sander."

"Exactly," Annie agreed. "Now, I'd better go and get ready, too, I've got
one more student to tutor this morning."

"Okay. See you in a couple of hours," I said.

"Bye, Robert," she replied, turning around and walking off home.

I closed the door and went inside where I found Sander sitting in the
couch, clutching the plastic folder. "A bit nervous, huh, buddy," I said as
I dropped his sports bag next to him.

"A little," he admitted. "Sorry for being so early."

"That's okay, kiddo," I smiled and then pointed at the folder. "What's
that?"

"Oh, that's the drawing for the room," he explained. "I finished it last
night. Wanna see?"

"Sure," I nodded. "I'm gonna finish my breakfast. Why don't you come sit at
the table with me and show me. And take your coat off for a bit, there's
plenty of time left."

"Okay," Sander said, getting up and unzipping his raincoat, dropping it on
the couch. He followed me into the kitchen where I sat down with the rest
of my cereal. He stood beside me and laid the folder with the drawing
before me.

"This looks amazing," I complemented the boy's work as I watched the
drawing and read the added remarks.

"Do you really think so?" he asked, surprising me by sitting down on my
knee.

Sensing his need for some cuddling, I wrapped my free arm around him and
helped him all the way onto my lap. It was really a wonderful sensation to
be so close to Sander and I was happy to see him being so at ease around
me. It was clear that he craved for affection and I would never deny him
that. We sat there like that for a while after I finished my breakfast,
with him showing the finishing touches of his drawing and me simply
listening to what he had to say, gently caressing his back. Unfortunately,
the time to get going came closer fast.

"Ready to go, my little prince?" I asked, placing my hands on his hips.

He looked back at me over his shoulder and nodded, smiling
brightly. Apparently the little chat about his room to be had calmed his
nerves a bit. He hopped off my lap, turned around and gave me a big hug and
a kiss on the cheek before retrieving his raincoat. I got up as well, put
my empty bowl in the sink, ruffled Sander's hair a bit as I passed by him
and picked up my shoes and jacket in the hallway. Sitting down on the couch
to put my shoes on, I couldn't help but look up at him, standing there by
his sports bag, patiently waiting for me to get ready and exploring the
room with his eyes.

It was only when our eyes met that I realized I'd been staring at him,
which I can only explain as a reminder of my physical attraction towards
the boy and I knew pretty well it would always play its part. I already
knew from first sight Sander was a handsome young boy, but getting to know
him more closely had made him even more beautiful. Yeah, there was no doubt
that I had falling head over heels with Sander. That was a feeling I would
have to hide for him, but I understood that it wouldn't be easy. Luckily,
my staring at him only provoked a happy smile with Sander, probably too
young to comprehend the real reason. I quickly snapped out of my trance,
smiled back and then speedily finished getting ready to go. A couple of
minutes later Sander was in the backseat of my car with me driving him to
an important football match.

Fifteen minutes later Sander and I found ourselves in the Racing
Doomkapelle cafeteria, where we were to meet Mark. As we sat there at the
bar, I had a cup of coffee, passing the biscuit to Sander who made it
disappear within a split second. The boy was a bit anxious, hopping up and
down on his tippy toes a bit, but we were a bit early, so I didn't
panic. Only a sip or two of the hot and strong coffee later, Mark entered
the building and greeted me with a smile. Another man who I did not know
was with, as well as two kids about Sander's age, dressed in the colors of
Racing: a tracksuit existing out of a dark, almost golden yellow jacket and
purple pants.

"Good morning, Robert," Mark welcomed me to his territory. "Punctual as
always, I see."

"Tardiness never makes for a good first impression, Mark, you know that," I
laughed at his mockery and then turned to Sander, who looked even more
nervous, if possible. I put my hand on the boy's shoulder and said: "This
little fellow here made sure we got here on time."

Sander looked up when he realized I was talking about him and Mark turned
to my little friend with a warm, welcoming smile on his face. "You must be
our new team member," he said. "Sander, right?"

"Uhuh, yes, sir," the boy nodded, blushing a bit.

"Pleased to meet you, Sander," Mark said, offering his hand. "I'm
Mark. I'll be your trainer at practice for the rest of this season and most
likely the next season as well."

"Pleased to meet you too, sir," my little friend smiled, shaking the man's
hand.

"Do call me Mark, kiddo, not sir," Mark chuckled in a friendly tone. "I'm
not Alex Ferguson of Manchester United. Although kids usually call me
'coach'."

"Okay, errr, coach," Sander nodded, giggling at the man's funny
disposition.

"See, that's not too hard, it is," Mark smiled. He gently pulled the boy
forward towards the other man and the boys who were with him. "For this
match, though, this guy here will be your coach. His mother called him
Daniel, we call him Big Dan."

"My mother called me lots of things, Mark," the man chuckled, his belly
shaking.

Big Dan was a guy in his early fifties with a thinning hair line and a
mustache the size of a jungle and a belly as big as tank. Add a beard to
his face, put him in a red costume and stick a bell in his hand and he'll
be 'ho-ho-ho-ing' with much gusto. The big rosy cheeks and the warm,
grandfatherly looks would even have him mistaken for the real Father
Christmas.

"Hello, there, Sander," he smiled kindly, his voice booming like the Big
Ben. "I hear you're here to help us win this game."

"He he, I hope so," Sander giggled nervously. "I'll do my best."

"That's all we ask of you, Sander," Mark nodded reassuringly. "And these
two little rascals are your team mates for today, along with the ones that
are already in the locker room. Simon! Ben! Why don't you two show Sander
the way!"

"Okay," the boys answered in choir, the smallest of the two already
grabbing Sander by the hand.

Sander barely had time to pick up his sports bag as the two other kids
escorted him out. Passing the window he looked inside at me, still
nervous. I just waved and then gave him a thumbs up, hoping that it would
give him at least some confidence. This was starting to look like a crash
course and I couldn't help but worry if he'd be okay.

"Don't worry, Robert," Mark reassured me as he spotted my worried
looks. "He's in good hands. They're a good bunch. They knew there'd be a
new kid with us, today, so they were just as anxious about meeting him as
Sander was."

"Good kids they may be, Mark," Big Dan interfered. "But rascals
nonetheless. I'd better go make sure they don't tear the place apart."

"Okay, Dan," Mark laughed. "Make sure to stick to the plan."

"The plan? What was that all about?" I wondered.

"Oh, right," Mark said, turning serious. "I told Daniel a bit about Sander
and what he went through. I felt that he needed to know. I hope that was
okay."

"That's okay, I guess," I shrugged, not knowing where this was heading. "As
long as Sander's history doesn't influence his chances or anything."

"No, no, not at all," Mark reassured me. "No one in our teams is left out,
ever. But with the special circumstances, Sander's old team being today's
opponents, I thought it best that Dan knew where his new player came from."

"Oh, I see," I nodded. "But what's this plan you're talking about?"

"Nothing too big, don't you worry," Mark smiled, grabbing my shoulder in a
friendly grip. "Big Dan and I agreed to keep Sander hidden from Rood-Zwart
and let him pop up like a jack-in-a-box."

"Hidden? How?" I wanted to know.

"By a simple big woolen hat, so they won't recognize him during warmups,"
Mark explained. "That is, if Sander agrees with it. The other boys know
about it too and they always stand up for their team mates, even if they
haven't met yet."

"Well, Sander's not one to hold a grudge for too long," I said, scratching
the back of my head in thought. "But he might actually go along with a plan
like that and it might even motivate him to show his former coach what he's
got."

"That's what we thought as well," Mark agreed. "He seems like a swell kid,
he deserves a break."

"Yeah, he is and he does," I nodded. "Thanks again for giving his this
chance."

"Don't mention it, Robert," he said in a friendly tone. "They should be
ready for warmups, now. I'm gonna go check on your little friend, see how
he's adapting."

"Okay," I said. "I'll see you on the field, then."

"Sure thing! See you in a bit," Mark almost shouted as he exited the
cafeteria. Just in time, too, because a few seconds later, a hoard of
parents and kids arrived on the premises, the kids mostly dressed in red
and black.

With almost half an hour to go before the kickoff, I decided to mingle with
the Rood-Zwart gathering and to try and find out if someone knew a reason
for Sander's dishonest treatment. I ordered a fresh cup of coffee, this
time putting the biscuit in my pocket and waited for the kids to go to
their locker rooms before walking over to the group. I recognized the man
I'd spoken to the week before and chose him to say hello to.

"Hi," I said a bit meekly. I was new to this, after all.

"Oh, it's Sander's neighbor," the man greeted me cheerfully. "Wait, I
thought Sander wasn't playing today? He wasn't there earlier."

"He wasn't?" I feigned surprise. "Something must have come up at the last
minute, then. His grandmother had asked me to pick him up afterwards, so I
thought, why not go and watch him play."

A woman sitting across from me had overheard us and said: "After practice,
last Wednesday, Sander said he had to go visit an aunt or something, so he
couldn't come."

"I see," I nodded understandingly. "She must have forgotten about asking me
to pick him up, then."

"Probably," the woman agreed.

"Oh, well, not a problem," I shrugged. "It's not the end of the world,
ey. Do you mind if I stick around and watch the game?"

"Not at all," another woman said cheerfully, also listening in on our
conversation. "The team needs every support they can get."

Aha, here's where I can start with my inquiry. "So I've heard. He told me
something about the team being a bit down on their luck," I said, pointing
at the man I'd talked to the week before.

"There's an understatement if I ever heard one," the man laughed out
loud. "The kids can't hear us, so we can say it out loud: they stink!"

"That bad, huh?" I said, showing some compassion. That wasn't even an act,
I felt a bit sorry for the boys. "Not one who can make a difference?"

"Well, as I said before, there is one: Sander," the man said. "But you know
what the story is there."

"Only part of it, actually," I confirmed. "I already know he doesn't get to
play. But he never told me why. What's the boy done to be left out all
season?"

The entire group turned to each other and all seemed to be in the dark
about the matter. Until an older man, probably someone's grandfather,
sighed and said: "He actually did play once, at a tournament before the
start of this season."

"Really? Sander never mentioned that," I said, now very curious. "Did he do
that badly, then?"

"On the contrary," the man rejected. "They got into the final of that
tournament and won. I believe Sander even scored the winning goal."

"That's right," the woman next to me remembered. "That was at
Ichtemark. But Sander hasn't played since."

"Then what happened?" I asked, a bit furious. "I know Sander well enough
that he wouldn't do anything bad enough to deserve this."

The old man sighed again and said: "I remember how the coach acted after
that tournament. He was edgy the whole time and I think he might have had a
drink or two too many. But I didn't make much of it at the time."

"I understand," I sighed. "I'd still like to know, though, but I don't
believe asking the coach is a good idea."

"No, it isn't," they all seemed to agree.

"I'll talk to Sander about this again, some day," I told them. "I don't
want things to carry on like this."

"Let's hope it doesn't," one of the parents agreed. "We'd better go see how
many goals they take this time, huh."

Laughing they all got up and headed for the exit. Not having the
information I wanted, I sighed and got up as well, following them
outside. This is where my sheep's skin was starting to wear thin. In a few
more minutes, I would become the wolf, ready to hunt down the alpha male of
this flock.

On the field we all lined up at the sideline. The kids of both teams were
going through their warmup routines, with the team of Racing looking a lot
sharper than their opponents. I didn't spot Sander with Racing, right away,
but then remembered the big hat, which sat on one of the boys in yellow and
purple. I'd strategically decided to stand at the end of the line of these
parents, not knowing how well these sheep would like the presence of a
wolf. Still, I wanted to be close to them to see their
reaction. Unfortunately, Rood-Zwart's coach spotted me as well.

"If you're here to take Sander home at half time again, you can spare the
effort," he shouted at me from a distance, the mockery in his voice all but
concealed. "He's visiting his aunt in Antwerp."

"I already know that," I replied, holding back my anger. "These kind people
invited me to come support the team."

"Support? From you? You know how the game works, don't you?" he carried on.

"Sure," I nodded. "The team scoring most goals wins. If I remember
correctly, you weren't doing too well with that last week."

Steam came out of the man's ears, now. "Alright then, stay. See if I care,"
he yelled, turning around. '1-0 to me,' I thought.

"Not planning to make friends with the coach, are you," the older man who'd
mentioned Sander's tournament earlier said.

"I'm not usually like this," I confessed.

"No, I don't think you are," the man smile kindly. "But just to be on the
safe side, try not to get him too pissed."

"I'll do my best," I promised.

A few minutes later, the referee blew is whistle and the starting players
of the two teams stripped off their tracksuits and headed for their
positions. Racing's outfit was all yellow with only a two purple horizontal
lines on the front of their jersey. Sander was standing next to Big Dan,
wearing a big smile and the big black woolen hat to cover his ears for
warmth and his blonde hair to conceal his true identity. A wolf cub in a
lambs skin, if you like.

After the toss, the ref blew the whistle again and they were
off. Rood-Zwart had been awarded the kickoff, but didn't keep possession of
the ball for too long. Even thought they tried their best, it was plain to
see that this would be another one side match. I didn't mind that, at least
Sander would be on the winning team, this team. I just wanted him to have a
considerable part in the victory.

I needn't have worried. The game was only five minutes away when Big Dan
beckoned Sander to come stand beside him. They chatted a bit, with Big Dan
giving instructions and at the next whistle of the referee, the man called
Simon, one of the two boys who'd taken Sander off to the locker rooms, off
the pitch and sent in Sander. Sander yanked off his hat, threw it at the
coach and darted off to his position, which at first sight appeared to be
left center.

'Gasp! Psych! Whatta...' Those were only a few of the reactions of my
fellow supporters. They couldn't believe their eyes when they saw Sander on
the field, in yellow, looking thrilled to finally get his first minutes of
match time. The old man next to me then turned to me with a look I can only
describe as 'we've been had'.

"You knew about this, didn't you," he simply said.

"Yep," I confessed. "He might not have told me much about what's been going
on, but I knew I had to do something."

"So you transferred him to the other team of this town," he concluded.

"That was the best option for him," I told them, wanting to be honest with
these people. It wasn't their fault, after all, at least not
completely. "One of their coaches is a colleague of mine, so I asked them
if he could play in their team instead. He agreed and now Sander's out
there, on the field, where he should be."

The old man nodded understandingly, but looked a bit worried. "Our coach
won't like this."

"I don't care about him," I shrugged. "I'd better go and make a move
myself, now. Good luck with the match."

"Traitor," the old man grunted between his teeth as I walked over to the
other side of the field.

There I found Mark with the parents of the boys Sander was playing with. He
smiled triumphantly at me, knowing that the plan had come together. I
returned the smile, stood beside Mark and then focussed on my little
football star. I didn't know much about football, but what I saw from
Sander wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

Sander was a lefty so felt perfectly at ease in his current position. It
took him a while to get a feel of how the other kids in his team played,
but after a couple of minutes, he blended in nicely. He was quickly
included in the game, receiving passes when he was open. The score was
still 0-0 after ten minutes, mostly because Racing had been a bit
unfortunate in the finishing. Then, Sander ran into the open space before
him, looking at Simon, who was now a center forward, and asking for the
ball. Simon passed the pall into Sander's run who picked it up and dribbled
towards the goal line with his direct opponent tailing him. At the goal
line, Sander sent his opponent flying with an excellently executed chop
kick. He briefly glanced up looking for a team mate who was open, passed
the ball to Racing's forward who launched it past Rood-Zwart's goalie and
into the back of the net. The lead for Racing was finally there, and
Sander's quick action preceding the goal had not gone unnoticed with the
two coaches present.

Big Dan looked at Mark and me briefly, nodding approvingly. I just smiled
and then looked for Sander in the field who had obviously been doing the
same. Our eyes met, he smiled brightly and I couldn't help but giving him
two thumbs up. I was so proud of him I had to restrain myself from running
up the field and giving him a big hug. It was Mark's comment that stopped
me from making a fool out of myself.

"That was well done," Mark stated. "He thinks fast on the field and he's
not selfish. He could have easily tried to score himself after that move,
but he passed the ball to Christian instead and Christian rarely misses
chances like that."

"Let's hope he keeps it up," I said. "I don't know much about football, but
I can tell he knows what he's doing."

"Quite," Mark agreed. "Why he was left out of the matches is beyond
me. It's definitely got nothing to do with a lack of skills."

"I still wonder about that, too, but I hope I'll find out, someday," I
said. "I don't want Sander's transferring to Racing to cause any trouble
for any of the other kids."

"Uhuh," Mark nodded, following the game with one eye. "Let's see how this
game turns out first."

The game turned out fine. Five minutes after the first goal, Sander's was
allowed a quick breather. During that break, Racing doubled the score with
a well aimed free kick. After a five-minute break, Sander was sent back in,
this time as a center, where he would be the team's play maker. Again,
after a few moments to get adapted, he proved to be a quick thinker. Being
wide open in the center, Sander received the ball from the kid racing down
the right flank, immediately deflecting it back in the boy's run, who
thanked him with a nice finish in the bottom left corner of the
goal. Although the goal scorer was celebrated by all his team mates, they
all congratulated Sander for the wonderful pass with a friendly pat on the
shoulder.

By halftime Racing lead by 5-0, a score that wasn't even
exaggerated. Rood-Zwart had pretty much thrown the towel in the ring after
they conceded the first two goals. When the halftime whistle blew, Sander
sprinted towards me with a happy smile. Of course he wanted me to tell him
how good he was. It was Mark who spoke to him first.

"If you keep it up like that, you'll make it difficult for me to decide
which of our teams you'll be playing in," Mark told him.

"Really?" Sander asked, not believing his ears.

"Yeah, sure," Mark confirmed. "You promised to do your best. I'm still
wondering if this is your best."

"Dunno," Sander shrugged and then turned to me, looking a tad bit sad. "I
still haven't scored for you yet."

"There's still time for that, Sander," I said. "And you have a foot in
three of the five goals, so far. That counts just as well."

"He's right," Mark agreed with me. "Your friend might not know much about
footy, but your teammates can't score goals if you don't give them the
ball. You'll get your chances, trust me."

"Okay," Sander smiled. "But I have to score, I promised I would score goals
for Robert."

"We're five goals up, now, Sander," Mark said. "The others already know
they can count on you for a good assist, they won't hold it against you if
you try to score yourself."

"Okay, I'll try," Sander nodded cheerfully.

"And hey, Sander," I said. "Even if you don't score, I've already got you
your reward for doing so well, right here in my pocket."

"Really?" Sander asked, looking at where I was patting the outside of my
pocket (the one holding that cookie).

"Yep, really," I smiled. "Now go get them, tiger."

And off he was, joining his teammates, sharing a bottle of fresh water to
quench his thirst and listening in on Big Dan's tactical explanations. I
briefly glanced at the other side, where the boys sat on the grass, looking
down and defeated. Involuntarily, my eyes met with those of their coach,
and I could tell from far that he was pissed. The parents of the Rood-Zwart
boys were chattering amongst each other, often pointing at Sander or
me. They didn't look too happy, either.

Sander started at the same center position at the beginning of the second
half. Racing pretty soon got back into their rhythm and weren't really
hindered much by their adversaries. At the eighth minute, Sander found
himself as the most forward player of his team. There was a huge gap in
Rood-Zwart's defense. He waved his arms to get the attention of the right
center of his team, who quickly understood Sander's plan. The ball was sent
into the gap with Sander speeding towards it, checking it with his left
foot and heading for the opponent's goal with only the goalie in front of
him. With a quick swipe of the left foot, only two feet away from the
goalie, he passed the goalie and kicked the ball deep into the back of the
net.

Celebrating his goal he jumped high into the air with his fists held
high. Immediately, three of his team mates were on him, cheering for him
and for their 6-0 lead. I could tell from miles away how important this
goal really was for him. This was the ultimate proof that whatever reason
his former coach had had to keep him out of the games, it was not because
he wasn't good enough. This goal was the boost of confidence that Sander
needed. The fact that he'd promised to score the goals for me made this
moment even more wonderful. As Sander walked back to his position for the
kickoff, he simply pointed at me, wearing the biggest smile. I again held
two thumbs up, my eyes almost tearing up as I stood there proud as a
peacock and as if he knew, Mark clapped me on the shoulder.

"That one's for you, Robert," Mark said.

I just nodded and smiled, knowing that I'll always cherish this moment. The
rest of the match my focus wavered a bit. I'd been so worried about Sander,
but he was more than doing great. He clearly had fun out there and
obviously, his new teammates recognized that he would be a good addition to
their team, which was already quite good. It made me wonder how good the
boys playing in the national division were and how far Sander's skills were
from theirs. We'd find out soon enough, I suppose.

Seeing Sander being so happy out there on the field allowed me to enjoy
watching him play and I caught myself actually looking at him and not
really paying much attention to the game anymore. Even when Big Dan had him
sit out for a couple of minutes, I was continuously drawn to my little
friend. Luckily he didn't seem to notice me staring at him, that might have
been a bit awkward. One thing I had to admit to myself, though: he look
stunningly cute in that yellow football outfit.

It was the referees whistle for the end of the match that brought me back
on my feet again. Final score: 9 to 1, with 2 goals from Sander (his second
was after a corner kick). The ritual handshakes with the opponents, his
former teammates, went pretty normal, but didn't seem to be more than a
token of good sportsmanship. Only his old coach acted a bit dramatically,
ignoring the hand Sander offered. Sander himself didn't make too big deal
out of that. He would never call it that, but he'd taken revenge on his
coach on the field.

After the handshakes, the Racing boys, including Sander, celebrated their
sounding victory by racing towards us, holding hands and then trying to
perform a belly slide, ending flat on their faces in the grass and giggling
like a bunch of clowns. When they got back up, their jerseys covered in
smudges of green and blades of grass, we all headed back inside.

On our way off the pitch, Sander skipped towards we and grabbed my hand. We
didn't speak, just smiled at each other, with me gently pinching his little
hand as a token of my pride in him. I then saw most of the parents going
inside the cafeteria. Mark told me to join them while he got the kids
washed and changed. I nodded to accept the invitation and told Sander where
he could find me. Already being used to what happens at football matches he
simply answered with an okay and went along with his new team. The praise
he was expecting from me would have to wait just a bit longer.

The parents of the Racing boys were already ordering their drinks and
taking their seats, having joined three tables to make a big one. But
before I could join them, the old man from Rood-Zwart I'd spoken too before
the match came to me.

"I take it we won't be seeing much of Sander anymore, after today," he
said.

"Only on the other side of the field, I'm afraid," I nodded.

"You must have enjoyed seeing them crush our boys," he sneered.

"Well, a little," I admitted. "But only because of your coach. After how he
treated Sander this season, he deserved that, and I'm still planning to
find out why he did it. The only thing that really matters to me is that
Sander had fun out there again."

"We never understood why he did that to Sander," the man confessed. "We
felt sorry for the kid."

"Felt sorry but did nothing," I confronted him. "He had no one standing up
for him, so getting him out was the only option."

"I suppose you're right," the man sighed, seemingly realizing he and the
other parents were to blame as well. "In any case, we lose a match and a
good player. With him we might have had a chance to win a few matches."

"It's too late for that, now, sir," I shrugged, not happy with his
self-pity. "You've got your coach to thank for that. You might want to
think twice before going on with him next season. And now I'm gonna go
celebrate the victory with the others. Enjoy the rest of your day."

Grumbling he let me pass and then returned to the other side of the
cafeteria, where he probably told the rest of the Rood-Zwart party what a
big jerk I was. I couldn't care less. When I joined the Racing supporters,
they welcomed me, offered me a drink (another cup of coffee, so I could
double up Sander's reward) and then asked me a thing or two about Sander. I
told them the whole story, which I felt they were entitled to. They all
agreed that I'd done the right thing and were happy to have Sander as a new
member of the team.

Five minutes later Mark joined us at the table, letting me know he'd left
Big Dan to look after the boys until they were all dressed and
ready. Before I could ask, he told me Sander was doing a-okay and that the
other kids already treated him as one of the team. Even if most of my
worries had gone, that was still good to know.

"I've also made a decision about what team Sander might play with," Mark
said. "But we'll talk about it as soon as he's back."

"Sure," I smiled gratefully, knowing that Sander would be in good hands
with Mark or Big Dan. There was a third coach in the team that I hadn't met
him, but I had no doubt that he was just as kind as these two.

At that very moment the whole bunch of boys, all in yellow and purple
tracksuits (except for Sander), all with their hair still damp from the
shower and all equally skittish. Sander was the last of the boys to come
in, dropping his sports bag on top of the heap the other kids had
formed. As soon as he saw me, he smiled brightly, waved and then made his
way towards me. But his smile quickly turned in a frightened look when his
former coach suddenly blocked his path.

"Visitting your aunt in Antwerp, are you?" he barked, loud enough for
everyone present to hear.

"L... Leave me alone," Sander stammered, trying to go around the jerk of a
man.

The coach yanked him back by his collar, almost ripping the jacked to
shreds. "Where do you think you're going? You're going back with us."

I quickly got up, ready to rescue Sander from the paws of that brute, but I
was beaten too it. "Let the boy go!" Big Dan's familiar booming voice said,
almost causing an earthquake.

The shock effect of Daniel's intervention was enough for Sander to break
free and to run for safety, hiding behind me, holding his arms around my
waste. When the effect wore off and the man realized where Sander was, he
looked really pissed.

"You!" he yelled at me. "You're behind this!"

He strided towards me, ready to launch his fists at me, but Big Dan grabbed
him by the shoulder and roughly pulled him back, hard enough for the guy to
lose his balance and almost trip over his own feet. "If you're not out off
here in five seconds, I'm calling the cops," Big Dan threatened.

"Hold that thought, Dan," I said. "I'd like to hear him out first."

"Whatever you say, Robert," Dan nodded. "But if he turns berserk again,
he's out. You, sit down!"

With a push with his big hands, he pushed Sander's former coach down on a
chair and held him there, holding his shoulders in a tight grip.

"Now, you'd better answer my questions correctly, or I'll have Dan call the
cops, anyway," I said angrily, sitting down in front of him, with Sander
standing right behind me, still terrified of the man.

"Whatever," the man shrugged, obviously not worried about the threats we
made. But then we got help from an unexpected corner.

"Yes, Jerry," the old man belonging with the Rood-Zwart supporters. "We
would like to know what the reason for all this is, as well."

"Indeed," the man I'd spoken to the week before agreed. "What were
thinking, keeping Sander from playing. We could've done a lot better this
season with him in the team."

"Now you decide to stand up for him," I smirked at the men. "When it's too
late. Still, thanks for the support." I then turned around and looked at
Sander. I wanted to hear what happened at that tournament from him,
first. "You remember that tournament you played last summer?"

Sanders eyebrows raised in surprise, probably wondering how I'd found out
about that. "Yes," he nodded.

"Did anything happen, that day?" I asked. Sander briefly looked over at
Jerry, as his old coach was called, hesitated a bit and then nodded. "Want
to tell em?"

The boy nodded and said: "After the finals, he told me I wouldn't be
playing anymore."

"Did he tell you why?" I wanted to know.

"I'm not sure," Sander pondered. "He said I would cost him money, or
something, or that I had cost him money when we won the finals. I don't
know what that meant."

"Cost him money?" I asked, wanting to make sure I heard him okay. Sander
just nodded, which made me thinking. I went through all possible reasons
why winning a tournament would cost his coach money, but then it suddenly
dawned on me. I turned back to Jerry, angry with what I'd figured out and
practically shouted at him in disgust. "You bet money on that tournament,
didn't you?"

Jerry's eyes went big and I knew it was true. Then he looked angrily at
Sander for telling me about it. "1500 euros the little jerk cost me that
day," he admitted. "I'd even asked him to throw the game, but no, he had to
go and score that goal."

I looked back at Sander, who nodded to confirm what the man had told. "He
promised me money if I didn't play at my best," Sander filled me in. "But I
thought it'd be unfair towards the others, so I played as I always did."

"As you should have. No one should ask you to do something like that," I
reassured Sander. I turned back to Jerry, who still didn't seem to care
about what he'd done. "So how much did you win by keeping Sander out for
the rest of the season?"

"Two hundred per match," Jerry simpled stated. "Three hundred if the others
scored more than 10 goals against us, which happened a couple of times."

"That's a pretty steep price, Jerry," I said, absolutely disgusted with the
man. "All on the backs of unknowing kids."

"They don't care," the man just shrugged. "I didn't even have to ask them
to play badly. Just keep Sander out so he would spoil it again."

"The boys might not care," the old man interrupted us. "But we do. I'm
gonna see to it you won't come near our boys again."

"Whatever," Jerry smirked sarcastically.

"And just to make sure you don't go expand your business elsewhere," Mark
suddenly said, "I'm calling the cops. They don't laugh with illegal
gambling."

"And how are you gonna prove that?" Jerry asked, still convinced nothing
could happen to him.

It was my turn to laugh. "Easily," I said, taking out my cell phone. "These
things have audio recording, nowadays."

Jerry's self assured grin quickly disappeared and changed into a look of
defeat. He knew we had him cornered. He quickly got up, and practically ran
out, probably heading home to hide whatever evidence he had of his illegal
gambling. It was Dan who called my bluff.

"Can you really record audio with that thing?" he asked, pointing at my
cell phone.

I smiled at him, holding up my cell phone. "Probably," I said. "Don't ask
me how, though, I never tried."

"So you didn't...," Mark realized. "Jeez, remind me never to play poker
with you."

"He he, I won't," I promised. "What about you calling the cops?"

"Not sure, really," he hesitated. "I don't really want to be involved in
this."

"Maybe," I nodded understandingly. "But I still think they should know, if
only to prevent him from finding another team whose matches he can
sell. Make it an anonymous call."

"Yeah, that might not be a bad idea," Mark agreed. "Anyway, I don't think
we'll be seeing much of him again."

"Let's hope not," I sighed and then turned to Sander, feeling guilty for
having him go through this. "Are you alright, buddy?"

"I'm fine," Sander smiled, clearly relieved that the man had gone.

"Cool. Oh, I almost forgot your reward for today's match." I said, digging
into my pocked. I held out the cookies I'd saved and said: "Don't eat them
all at once, though, you'll spoil your appetite."

"Two cookies? Is that it?" Sander said, disappointed.

"Yeah, Robert, is that it?" Big Dan echoed. "I think I can do better. Come
over here son."

Sander walked around the table towards Big Dan, who held the plastic bag
he'd held when he entered the building earlier in front of Sander. Sander
grabbed the bag and held it open before him. He gasped loudly and
practically ripped the bag away from the contents.

"Oh, Robert, look!" he shouted excitedly. In his hands he held a brand new
yellow and purple tracksuit, matching the ones his team mates were wearing.
He turned back to Big Dan and gave the man a big hug. "This is so cool!
Thanks!"

The kind man (was he really Santa in disguise?) chuckled at the boy's
reaction and patted his back a couple of times. "Well, since you're part of
our team, now, I thought you'd better look the part. I knew we had a few
extra lying around, so there you go."

"Cool!" Sander repeated himself and turned to me, holding out his prize,
looking overjoyed. "Isn't this great, Robert!"

"It sure is, my little prince," I said, not even knowing if he wanted me to
call him that in public. "You deserved that. You played a great match out
there."

"I did?" he asked, wanting to be praised.

"Two goals and three assists," I summed up. "That's a foot in half of all
the goals scored today. I call that a great match, but I'm not the expert
here. Mark is."

"And Mark agrees," Mark pitched in. "That's why I'm gonna ask Leo, that's
the coach of the regionals, to have you play with his team next week."

"The regionals? Really?" Sander asked, not believing his ears. But then he
thought things over for a second, biting his lower lip like he always does
when in deep thought and then said: "If it's okay with you, I'd rather play
with this team again."

"Oh, and why's that," Mark wanted to know, a bit surprised with Sander
refusing the opportunity to play at a higher level.

"I kinda had fun, today," Sander explained. "The other kids were really
nice to me, from the start. I wanna help them win their matches"

"Loyalty," Mark nodded with a kind smile. "If that's what you want, it's
okay with me. How about you, Big Dan?"

"You mean I get to keep him?" Big Dan said. "I'm not saying no to that!
Welcome aboard, Sander."

"Hehe, cool," Sander smiled broadly. "Thanks!"

"Hey, Sander, come play with us," one of the other kids shouted from the
door.

My little friend looked up at who was calling for him, briefly looked at me
for approval and darted off as soon as I'd nodded my okay. I watched him
until he was out off the cafeteria, happy to see him enjoying himself.

"That was unexpected," Mark said when Sander was out off sight. "Kids
rarely say no to the chance to play at a higher level."

"He might still change his mind," I answered. "I think he just bought
himself some time to adjust to this new environment. Seeing him having fun
again is worth what matters most, right now, especially after having
suffered Jerry's treatment for so long."

"Yeah, you could be right," Mark agreed. "With the season almost at an end,
it might even be better this way. We'll see what happens next season."

"That's what I was thinking," I nodded. "Anyway, I owe you one. If you ever
need anything..."

"I already told you, you don't owe me anything," Mark refused. "We got a
good new player in our team, thanks to you. We're even. Unless..."

"Unless what?" I asked.

"From what I've seen, it's obvious you're good with kids," Mark
remarked. "Any interest in becoming part of the team?"

"In what way?" I asked. "Coaching is out of the question. I don't know a
thing about football."

"I was thinking more in the lines of logistics," Mark explained. "The
person coordinating the lower age teams is retiring after the season. Maybe
that's something for you?"

"Aren't functions like that usually given to people who're already with the
club?" I asked.

"Usually, but I'd prefer someone like you who actually puts the kids in
first place," Mark said. "If it came to a vote, you'd have my support and
I'm pretty sure Dan would back you up as well. And Leo's been with us for
so long, he won't be too hard to convince."

"Really? And what would I have to do, exactly?" I informed.

"Mostly it'd come down to organizing stuff," Mark said. "Help organize our
annual tournament, which we're holding in three weeks, get our teams
registered for next season, get the necessary paperwork done in case of
accidents... Stuff like that."

"Oh, I see," I nodded. "A bit behind the scenes, then. I could probably do
that, yeah. Let me think about it a couple of days, okay?"

"I take that as a yes," Mark smiled, knowing me too well. It did seem like
a fun thing to do. "We're having a meeting with all the staff in three
weeks. Just show up and I'll introduce you. The rest will pretty much be a
formality."

"Errr...  okay," I agreed.

"Great," Mark smiled even wider and turned over to Big Dan, who was
enjoying a cold beer. "Hey Dan, have you got some of those outfits in his
size? We've got another new member."

"Really, now?" Big Dan chuckled. "Sorry, I only give those to the
youngsters. I don't wanna risk getting a hug from you, like the one Sander
gave me."

"Haha, understood, mister," I laughed.

"No, really, there aren't any left in your size, but we can order an extra
for next season," Dan told me and then seemed to think deep over
something. "No, wait, that'll be your job, too. So if you don't get any,
it's your own fault."

"Oy, under pressure already," I sighed. "I hope the job pays well."

"What job?" I heard the most wonderful voice ask.

I looked past Big Dan and saw Sander coming towards me, followed by two of
his teammates. He joined us at the table, asking for a drink which I
ordered right away. After a sip from his Aquarius, he decided to take a
seat on my lap, not finding any chairs available.

"Well, Mark just hired me as a coordinator for next season," I explained
the boy.

"Really? That's cool," Sander said enthusiastically. "Now we will both be
in the same club!"

"I guess so," I nodded.

"Hey, Simon," he called to one of his buddies. "Uncle Rob's gonna be on our
team, too!"

That got a few cheers from Simon and the other kids who were sitting at a
table behind us. "Uncle Rob? Where's that come from?"

"Well, you're a bit like an uncle, so I thought..." Sander stammered a
bit. "You don't mind, don't you."

"Nah, of course not," I said, ruffling his hair a bit. "Uncle Rob it is."

"Three cheers for Uncle Rob," Big Dan shouted, raising his glass.

All people present, the Rood-Zwart supporters already gone, shouted three
cheers for me, making me blush and shy away a bit. I'm really not used to
being in the spotlights like that. Luckily I'd work behind the scenes,
here. I then checked the time to see how close to lunchtime we were, which
was really close.

"We'd better get going, now, Sander," I said. "Your grandmother will be
waiting with lunch."

"Oh, okay," Sander nodded, a bit sad he had to leave. He turned to Mark and
asked: "When's practice?"

"Tuesdays and Thursdays, from 6 to 7.30," Mark informed his new team
member. "Try to make it a bit before that. If you can't make it, just give
me a call."

"Okay," Sander said. "I'll be there."

Sander hopped off my lap and walked over to the pile of sports bags where
he dug his out. I got up as well and said my goodbyes to the people still
present, thanking Mark and Big Dan again. They waved us out and a few
minutes later we were on our way back home. No matter how the rest of the
day would go, this had already been unforgettable, for so many reasons. The
big smile on Sander's face as he sat beside me on the passenger seat told
me he felt the same. Next stop: IKEA.

----------

Lunch after Sander's first match with Racing wasn't anything special. Annie
usually brings home fresh bread for sandwiches, which I appreciate just as
much as her home cooking. It was already close to 1 p.m. when we sat around
the table, so there wasn't too much time left before heading to the nearest
IKEA store, which was about an hour's drive from where we lived. Still,
there was enough time to allow Sander to tell his grandmother all about
what had happened that morning.

Only briefly mentioning the encounter with his former coach, Jerry, Sander
pretty much reported about his match in detail, including the warm welcome
he'd received from Mark, Big Dan and the other kids. Of course his goals
were the highlights of his story. I didn't speak more than ten words during
his story, but I didn't care. Hearing Sander talk so lively, so cheerfully
about the events was music to my ears, and going by the broad smile on
Annie's lips, she felt just the same. Once his tale was finished, he took a
big swipe of the chocolate milk to moisten his throat. Putting his cup
down, he turned to me, still smiling.

"Hey, Uncle Rob. When are we gonna go shopping for my room?" he asked,
already looking forward to the rest of our day.

"In a couple of minutes," I said, briefly checking the time. "It's a bit of
drive, so we'd better not wait too long if we want to have enough time to
get what we need."

"Uhuh, okay," Sander nodded.

"Better go upstairs and change into something a bit more tidy than your
sports wear, honey," Annie told her son, pointing at her grandson's track
suit. "These need to be washed anyway."

"Okay," the boy obeyed, getting up from his chair, heading up for his room.

"Uncle Rob?" Annie remarked.

"Heh, yeah, that was new to me, too," I explained. "Somewhere this morning
he decided to call me that and I didn't have the heart to tell him not
to. And I kinda liked the sound of it."

Annie smiled at me and said: "That shows you how highly he thinks of you,
Robert. I think you've even done more than an average uncle. So, if he
wants to call you Uncle Rob, it's fine with me."

"Okay," I nodded. "With my future job with Racing, chances are other kids
will pick up that name, quickly."

"Yeah, probably," Annie said. "Sander won't mind that. I'm pretty sure
you'll spoil him enough to let him feel you're his uncle, and his only."

"You bet," I smiled. "Starting with this afternoon. Just to be on the safe
side, though, but is there a limit to what we can spend on his room, this
afternoon?"

"No, not really. Just don't go overboard with it." Annie said.

"Okay," I agreed to her terms, just as Sander entered the living room
again, wearing a pair of black jeans and a green hooded sweater. He'd even
combed his hair. "Looking sharp, kiddo!" I complimented him on his choice
of clothing. "Ready to go?"

"Yep!" the youngster nodded enthusiastically.

"Then put your shoes on, grab your coat and we're off," I instructed
him. "Bring your drawing too, so you know how big everything has to be."

"Errm... I kinda left it at your place, this morning," Sander told me,
blushing a bit.

"Oh, no worries, kiddo," I said. "We'll go pick it up first. It's not like
I live on the other side of the country, ey."

"Hehe, okay," my little friend giggled.

I turned to Annie and said: "We should make it back in time for dinner."

"Just be careful on the road, Robert, so you make it back in one piece" she
nodded. "And you, young man, don't go causing any trouble."

"I won't, grannie, I promise," Sander said, hugging his grandmother
lovingly.

"Then you two have a nice day," she smiled, holding her little sweetheart
for a couple of seconds before seeing us off.

"Thanks, Annie," I said. "I'll take good care of him. Come on, buddy, let's
hit the road."

Sander waved at his grandmother one more time before exiting through the
front door. I followed him out and together we walked the distance towards
my house to pick up the boy's schedule.

"Are we getting paint, too?" he asked as we crossed the road.

"That might be a bit tight, I'm afraid," I told him. "Unless we get factory
made paints, which are a bit expensive, they have to mix the paint before
we can take it home. That usually takes a while."

"Oh, okay," Sander answered, sounding a bit disappointed.

"What we can do is get some color strips," I suggested. "Then you can
choose what colors you like for your room after dinner. You'll know what
your bed and all will look like, so it'll be easier to pick something that
matches."

"Cool," Sander brightened up again. "Then when do we get the paint?"

"I was thinking of making a quick stop on my way back from work, next
week," I told him. "There's a D-I-Y not too far from where I work. That way
we'll have all that we need by next weekend."

"Sweet! Then we can start painting next Saturday afternoon!" the boy said
excitedly.

"Yeah, we could do that," I agreed, "But I have a better suggestion."

"What's that?" the boy wanted to know.

"Don't you have Easter holiday coming up, soon?" I asked.

"Yeah, in two weeks," Sander told me. "Why?"

"Before I moved here, I planned a week off after the Easter weekend," I
explained. "That's during your holiday. We can get do your room then,
together. I need to move my cd's and dvd's out first, anyway."

"Oh, okay, cool," he agreed with a smile and then, as we arrived at my
place, he concluded with that typical boy logic. "And when it's done, I can
have a sleepover. There's no school anyway."

"Now there's a thought," I chuckled. "Give your room it's maiden trip,
huh. Well, if your grandmother agrees, it's okay with me."

I unlocked the front door and stepped aside to let Sander in. "Now, go on
inside, find your drawing and let's get moving," I told him.

"Yep," Sander nodded. "Be back in a flash."

He was. He found his drawing still on the kitchen table where he'd left it
earlier. A bit later we were on the highway, heading for the nearest
IKEA. Sander was in the backseat, safely buckled up, his drawing lying next
to him. It didn't take too long before the combination of the physical
efforts from the football match and the hot air blowing from my radiator to
avoid to prevent condensation on my windows took its toll on the little
boy. He drooped to the side and fell asleep, with his head against the
window pane. I turned down the radio to let him enjoy his nap.

A furniture store might not be a nine year old boy's idea of a fun
afternoon, but when we entered the building, his eyes did grow wild, seeing
all the different styles of living rooms, lounges and so on. With the way
he'd drawn out the room, I'd already detected an interest in interior
design with Sander. As we walked through the top floor where all the
furniture is displayed, he would often stop to take a good look and make a
few comments. I know it's way too early to tell, but I've got a feeling
that he might decide to make decorating homes would make a fine career for
the boy.

When we reached the children's room department, the child's imagination
really went overboard. With his drawing as a reference, he looked around
attentively, searching for the stuff that came closest to what he'd had in
mind when he drew it. I let him take his time, going back and forth between
different beds and dressers and desks and such. His plan even required a
second tour of the whole store to find the missing parts. In the end he'd
made up a list of the stuff he'd chosen and dragged me around a third time
to show me the final selection. Along the way, I'd told him to add a few
things to store my cd's and dvd's in.

Once Sander had made his choice clear, we had one of the IKEA staff tap it
all into the computer. Some of the stuff I wouldn't be able to take home,
because I didn't have a big enough car, so I ended up putting everything up
for delivery at my place, which would happen the following Thursday. That
meant I'd have to take the day off, which wouldn't be a problem. Payment
would happen then as well, which gave Annie and me the chance to discuss
who would be paying what. The order completed, we decided to take a
breather and get ourselves a drink and a snack.

During our break, Sander sat in front of me, smiling brightly. I praised
him again for his good taste. His joy broadened even more when he munched
down the piece of cake, showing me my little friend was a sweet tooth, like
so many other kids (and me). Afterwards, we headed to the lower part of the
store and bought some practical stuff like bedding, carpets, lights...
which we then loaded in the trunk of the car.

"Are we gonna go to the hardware store for paint, now?" Sander asked when
we passed the exit barrier.

"Yep, sure," I nodded, looking at my little prince through my rear view
mirror. "I put the address of the one nearby in the GPS. They got the same
shop near where I work, so we can pick up samples here and I'll get the
paint next Thursday, after they've delivered the furniture."

"We'll need brushes and stuff, too," Sander told me.

"Yep, I'll get all that together with the paint," I said. "Unless you want
to do that now. There's still enough time."

"Nah, it's cool," the boy said, shaking his head. "I'd rather go home,
actually."

"Getting a bit bored, are we?" I asked.

"A bit," he admitted. "The sooner we get home for dinner, the sooner we can
play RISK."

"Oh, it's a declaration of war, now, is it?" I smiled. "Okay, then. We'll
do this: I'll run to the hardware store on Thursday, get the necessary
equipment and bring home some samples. I know what colors you want, so I'll
know what to look for. We can then look over the samples and get the paint
you want next weekend. How's that sound?"

"Cool!" Sander simply nodded.

"Let's go home, then," I suggested. "Prepare to be dominated!"

"Hah, you wish!" Sander accepted the challenge.

So, only an hour after buying the IKEA store half empty, we came home. I
put the car in my garage and help Sander get the stuff we bought upstairs
to his future room. After that, we headed back to his home, where we found
Annie in the kitchen, working on our dinner. Sander laid his drawing on the
dining room table and ran to her for a quick hug and a kiss. From the
kitchen, Annie told me to take a seat and then sent Sander to me with a
fresh glass of soda, which I gladly accepted. Ten minutes later we were all
around the table, with a row of fish sticks, a pile of mashed potatoes and
spinach on our plates.

During dinner, Sander talked nonstop about what his room would look like
and promised his mother to show her the furniture he'd chosen on the
website. He also told her about our arrangements concerning paint and stuff
and then launched the idea of using the first week of his Easter holiday to
work on his room.

"Are you sure you want to sacrifice your entire week off from work to that
room?" Annie asked me after she heard of our plans.

"I didn't really have anything to do, that week," I shrugged. "I just took
the week off to break the daily routine a bit. Now I'll have something to
do, that week."

"If you say so," Annie said.

"It'll be interesting to see how it turns out, because I'm not the most
handy person around," I admitted.

" A bit of a challenge, then, huh," Annie concluded.

"Yep. But we'll manage, won't we, buddy?" I asked, turning to Sander, who'd
followed our conversation closely.

"Uhuh, yep, sure," Sander nodded confidently. "It's painting and screwing
furniture together, that can't be too hard."

"That's the spirit," I smiled at him, ruffling his hair. "Now why don't you
go get your RISK board?"

"Okay!" Sander said, swiftly getting up from his chair and running up the
stairs.

"I don't think it really matters how things work out, Robert," Annie said
as soon as the boy was out of ear shot.

"With all the work he did on that drawing, I think it does," I disagreed,
not understanding what she meant.

"Well, it matters," she corrected herself. "The job has to be well
done. But it's doing it with you that counts most for him."

"That goes both ways, Annie," I said. "I like having Sander with me. He's a
terrific kid."

"He is and I already know you're very fond of him," Annie said. "He didn't
call you Uncle Rob for no reason, though. I know you probably won't admit,
but the football, this project and God knows what other plans you'll come
up with, those are things most boys do with their father."

"Oh, I see," I stated, a bit shocked at Annie's revelation. "I hadn't
thought of it that way."

"I know that comes as a surprise," Annie said. "I won't ask you to be a
father to him. All I want is that you keep showing him that he's important
to you."

"That won't be too difficult to do," I smiled. "Because he is important to
me. I know he's not my flesh and blood, but he's all I'd ever want in a
son. I'll be there whenever he needs me to be.

"I can't ask for more," Annie smiled. "And when in doubt, I'm always there
to help sort things out."

"Thanks," I simply said. "I'll do my best not to betray your trust in me."

With all this heavily emotional stuff passing between Annie and me, I was
more than relieved when Sander reappeared, holding an old version of RISK
(the one with the starlike pawns) in his hands. He went straight to the
living room table and set up the board. It was only when he called me to
pick a color that I noticed a change in his outfit, one that fit his free
spirit a lot better than jeans and hooded sweaters.

As he stood next to his chair, dealing the territory cards, I couldn't help
but stare. He'd left his black jeans and his sweater upstairs, together
with his socks and t-shirt. All he was wearing now was one of those plain
white tank top and a pair of grey cotton briefs. Adorable was the word that
came to my mind first, tempting was the second. The shirt hung loosely on
his body, coming halfway down his hips. His briefs were a snug fit,
following the smooth curve of his little butt, with only the smallest of
bulges hinting at his boyhood. The picture of Sander standing there like
that, waiting for me to play with him, was one of pure innocence. Not a
hair on my head dared thinking of it as anything else.

RISK being a game of tactics added with a bit of luck (no matter how well
you plan your war, the dice decided whether you win or loose a battle), I
had the upper hand for once. My red pawns soon crowded Asia and Europe,
with only a few of Sander's yellow territories to take over for world
domination. Sander himself proved that playing the game was more important
than winning, taking pleasure even in seeing his armies swiped of the
world.

The game took over an hour to finish, with the board covered up in my
reds. It was getting close to Sander's bedtime, so we weren't surprised to
hear Annie calling it a night for her grandson. We put all the bits and
pieces of the game back in its box. I reminded myself to get a set of the
boy's favorite board games for his room, so we can play them when he's with
me. He'd even chosen the right type of furniture to store those games, so
he must have been thinking the same thing. With the box under his arm, he
got up from his chair and walked over to his grandmother to wish her
goodnight. After his goodnight hug, he came back to me with a request.

"Are you coming upstairs with me to tuck me in?" he almost pleaded.

I briefly glanced over at Annie who just nodded her approval. "I have to
use the bathroom first," I told him. You go on upstairs, brush your teeth
and hop into bed and I'll be with you in five minutes."

"Okay," he smiled happily.

Quickly he ran up the stairs and as I reached the bathroom, I could already
hear him running the tap to brush his teeth. The visit to the bathroom only
took me two minutes, but I knew Sander would be hurrying up to get in bed
before I got there. I climbed the stairs, hearing the patter of his little
feet as he crossed the hall to his room, and made for the door he left
ajar. I silently rapped at the door to announce my arrival and stepped
inside where I found my little bundle of joy, already flat on his back, his
sheets still folded in half, only covering his legs.

Either I'd come too early, or he'd decided to wait till after my goodnight
wishes, but he was still in his tank top and briefs. That wasn't a bad
thing either, because I had no idea of how I'd handle seeing him completely
bare. With his choice to not wear anything at night, I knew it was
practically inevitable that I would one day see all of him. When that time
came, I would have to set my being attracted to him aside and be very
careful not to complicate our friendship.

"That was quite the day, huh, kiddo," I said quietly as I covered the rest
of him up.

"Uhuh, yeah," he croaked, sleep already creeping into his little
body. "Will you take me to football practice next week?"

"That might be a bit tight," I told him, not wanting to make promises I
couldn't keep. "I'm not sure if I can make it back in time from work."

"Oh, okay," Sander said, naturally disappointed.

"I can pick you up, though," I then said. "I might even come and see how
you're doing."

"Really? That'd be cool," the boy brightened up again.

"I'll let your grandmother know I'll be your cab driver, after practice," I
told him.

"Okay," he nodded with a smile. "I can't wait till the guest room is
ready," he then said, sitting upright.

"Patience, buddy," I answered, ruffling his hair again, something I'd
become to enjoy doing. "Once we get to working on it, it'll be finished
before you know it."

"And then I get to sleepover at your place," he announced excitedly.

"Yep," I nodded. "At least, if your grandmother lets you. You haven't asked
her yet."

"She'll say yes," Sander said self assured.

"Okay, then," I smiled. "But just to make sure, you'd better go to sleep,
now. We don't want her to think I'm keeping you awake, huh."

"Hehe, no, guess not," the boy giggled.

I then held out my arms and said: "Now come here, silly boy, so I can wish
you goodnight properly."

Still giggling he crawled out from under the sheets, kneeled down and then
let himself fall into my arms. I hugged my little friend close to me,
caressing his back tenderly and held him like that for two minutes. When I
loosened my grip, he sat back on his haunches. I put my hand under his chin
and kissed his forehead and then held his sheets up so he could crawl back
under them. Once he was nicely tucked in again, I kissed him once more and
got up, wishing him sweet dreams. I got up and walked to the door. I was
about to leave him to his boy dreams when he called upon me.

"Uncle Rob?" he practically whispered.

"Yes, my little prince?" I replied, turning back to him.

"I love you," he said in the sweetest of voices.

Now those words are not to be used lightly, but the look in Sander's eyes
and the almost secretive way he spoke the words were proof enough that he
meant it. Of course I felt the same way, even though I still had to pay
attention to not confuse plain attraction with love. Nevertheless, deep
inside, I knew Sander was a lot more than just a cute little friend. Maybe
when Annie declared our time spent together as father-son activities, she
wasn't that far from the truth. I'm no father figure, far from it, but that
didn't mean I couldn't feel some fatherly pride and love for Sander. And no
matter what, the three words my little prince had just uttered were the
most beautiful words in the world. The were honest and sincere, so I could
only answer them the same way.

"I love you too, my little prince," I smiled. "Sweet dreams, buddy."

"'Nite," he smiled back happily before turning over on his side.

Quietly I closed the door to his room. For the rest of the evening, during
my late night chat with Annie, my walk home and the minutes before going to
sleep myself, Sander's 'I love you' echoed through my mind. Never had I
heard anything more beautiful.