JEPPSQUARE
" Time plays Chess. "
www.jeppsquare.me
Chapter V
DOD / Thursday 8th April 199315/02/2025⋱ Chatblog ◂ LWTF ⨗
Today was the most exciting day yet. It was the day of the Handball match. It was a sunny day and as I woke, the rays of sunlight came streaming through the French windows and across my bed.
Of course, like everything else, I had no idea that there was to be a Handball match today. In fact I didn't even know what 'Handball' was. I only found out when the time actually arrived.
Yet this was to become an event so awesome and inspiring, that it will be made a whole chapter all unto its own.
The day passed sooner than expected and towards the afternoon Arnaud announced, "Simon... Il y a un match d'Handball aujourd'hui."
"Ah..." I said, "A quelle heure?"
"Maintenant."
Right now? I thought to myself, But I don't know how to PLAY Handball!
Nevertheless, I followed Arnaud along some pleasant paths near the back of the school, much like the other day, only this time it seemed... different. Sure this was the same route to the same gym, past some playing fields and tennis courts... yet I just knew and I think everyone in the school knew, that today the gym is not merely a PE classroom... but a STADIUM.
So sure enough, as we passed the last tennis court and as a cool but gentle breeze stroked my nose on an otherwise still, warm day... I saw it... like a distant mountain becoming visible through the haze, a very, very big gym made itself known.
Inside the gym there were long stadium type benches along one side for the crowd, upon which a crowd there was. Yes, the benches were there last time, but honestly the place seemed so much smaller just a couple of days ago.
Of course, I was already very nervous about where I came in this sporting event. Frantically, whilst trying to keep my cool, I tried to get a hold of Arnaud for some information. Eventually after managing to pry him from his excited team mates, I acquired a very useful phrase from him, which was, "Ehhrm nowhere...".
Thus to my relief I found out I wasn't playing after all and was merely just supposed to be an enthusiastic spectator. Phew.
If you didn't know, it turns out Handball is like indoor soccer, well, in that it has a similar goal, only instead of using your feet, players use their hands, head, and body to throw, catch, and shoot the ball into the opposing team's goal.
Basic rules:
- Two teams of five or seven players compete.
- Players can pass, bounce, dribble, or shoot the ball.
- Players can't touch the ball with their feet, except for the goalkeeper.
- Players can take up to three steps without dribbling.
- Players can't hold the ball for more than three seconds without dribbling or shooting.
- Attacking players must shoot from outside the arc marked on the court.
Arnaud disappeared into the changing rooms and I took my perch on a bench, preparing myself to root and cheer for "our" team, Max Linder. I actually felt quite fired up! I mean, we're all family now.
Sure enough, some time later Arnaud and his team emerged from a door in the gym wall, all dressed and ready to impress. As they crossed the court a tremendous cheering filled the gym and echoed off the tall white brick walls.
Go get 'em chaps!
The whistle was blown - the match had started and Arnaud's team had the ball. It was surely a great start and they looked to be controlling the court... until soon enough the ball was taken away by one of the players in the opposite team, Cologne Sué.
And as was to become all too familiar... they didn't wait around.
They charged down the court! They rammed their way through our defence, knocking players aside from here to Abu Dhabi. Oh... My... God. I mean, straight off the bat it was imminently obvious we did not possibly stand a chance against them.
Even I, who can't make head or tail of the rules, can see that.
Indeed it looked like we had invited a pack of lions to a kitten party. For then... like a bolt of lightning out of absolutely NOWHERE... the enemies' best player just "appeared" and jumped up with the ball from within our group, high into the air... then span 'round like a propeller and - CATAPULTED the ball into our goal! It was incredible! It was totally unforseen and awesome all at the same time! It was like nothing I had ever seen in all my life - not even on T.V.
Five minutes of playing had passed and the score was already 1-0. Having never seen the Max Linder team play or even a Handball match before I had no idea what to expect. I just sat there on the bench and prayed we'd come back.
Yet alas, the enemy had not finished with us. They stole the ball again. Their top player, like a missile, bombed down the court! He jumped... high in the air... then with the ball in his right hand, he whirled his arm 'round twice... and thunder...! SLAM! Another goal! We were being THRASHED.
2-0!
None of the players could believe their eyes! Even Arnaud, a very good player, was flabbergasted! My jaw dropped down and hit the ground. Come on... I thought, so we're 'two' goals down... surely it can't get any worse if we stay focussed.
But the storm was far from over. One of our players was rolling around on the ground clutching his right knee. He was injured! A couple of guys with a stretcher then came along and he was carried off the court. Oh no! What will the team do?
Now being down to four players against a fully armed and capable opponent, this could not possibly end well.
Then I noticed in the cluster and bustle of the dispaired conferring players, ONE of them was pointing at ME. What are they pointing at ME for? I thought to myself, I haven't done anything... oh, hang on... Arnaud started waving at me.
Now, I'm not sure how long this lasted, but each time I waved back and he waved again, it became gradually more and more apparent that he was actually trying to call me over and that I was more and more trying to avoid it. Which didn't work.
He then blatantly waved both his hands like directing an aeroplane and so I submitted rather than cause myself embarassment. Errm... I've got a really bad feeling about this, I thought as I calmly decended the stairs.
I climbed down from the spectator benches and walked cautiously onto the side of the pitch where Arnaud greeted me with a fabulously new and fashionable smile I had not seen before.
"Er..." he said in the best possible accent he could, "Can you er... play for us?"
SHOCK. Now there's a word. Another word that sprung to mind was NO. I have in fact used this word many times in my life, for instance when pondering whether to jump off a cliff and end my life. Needless to say this was shocking, but not only was it shocking... it was shockingly shockish and full to the brim with lots of shock.
Yet furthermore, I realised, this was also a decisive moment for my reputation as a fine, fabulous human being and indeed my reputation for representing England. I mean, who wouldn't want to represent England? Well that aside, I couldn't exactly reject their request. What would people think? Not to mention what Arnaud might think...
This was going to take a moment of covert situational and self-worth assesment.
After spying the enormity of the gym out of the corners of my eyes and the gigantic well-fed opposition towering over us and gleaming with utter delight... And after acknowledging to myself what a SHIT STUPID IDEA it would be to actually accept this ridiculous invitation... I closed my eyes, summoned the spirit of Daisy the Magical Llama and tried to look as concerned as I could...
...without hinting I'd never played the game before. Thus, I cleared my throat.
"Alors... naturellement." I replied... as 'calmiosso' as I could. Yes I know that's not a word.
So onto the court I went. Heads turned, people pointed. Who is this new kid? Not even I knew what I was doing there, but I stood there, like a lemon, trying to look like the newest star in modern sporting times.
The whistle was blown again. Yet again the enemy gained the ball and scored, yet another goal.
3-0!
Needless to say, my recent entrance had not improved our situation. The best I could do was keep running up and down shouting and waving my arms in the air like the others do, in the sad hope of blending in.
God forbid if someone actually passes me the ball... what in the name of Mother Mary am I supposed to do with it? Sure, looks like a cross between basketball and football, but as for the actual RULES they may as well be CRICKET.
The team was in very bad shape. Was there nothing we - I mean they - could DO against this herd of charging elephants??
Well, as it happened... yes. We had Arnaud! Well don't get too excited about it - he's only the guy who saved our bacon!
Now, this is interesting. You see, I'm not going to claim that summoning the spirit of Daisy the Magical Llama actually worked... but between you and me... it's kind of a strange coincidence.
Arnaud had the ball. He charged down the court, dribbling the ball as fast as he could. Sure enough, the opposition locked him in on all sides. BANG! He was knocked over! BUT still with ball in hand! Here, to my amazement, he then jumped up from the floor, into the air backwards, then did a sort of orbital-flip in mid-air (honestly) and... MISSILED the ball into the goal, knocking over the goalie in the process! What a FANTASTICAL goal!
3-1! We were coming back!
Needless to say the Max Linder crowd were now sounding much more optimistic.
The whistle was blown again and the game continued. The opposition fired the ball at our goal as soon as they could. Now luckily ~ very luckily ~ the ball rebounded off the cross-bar and landed right back into the arms of our pal, Arnaud.
A gift from God.
Arnaud rammed himself through the bodies that stood firmly before him ~ (at this point I had decided just to walk up and down the court in the direction that the ball was travelling) ~ yet NONE of the opposing players could catch Arnaud up, he was just too fast.
SLAM! Another goal from our fellow comrade!
3-2!
The atmosphere now was AMAZING! The crowds were shouting, "ARNAUD! ARNAUD! ARNAUD!"
The whistle was blown again... but with only ONE minute left of play... does even Arnaud have a miracle up his sleeve?
The opposition had the ball and yet again their best player charged down the pitch. The ball kept getting knocked back every now and then, but still the enemy charged with all their might!
Their best player, just past midfield, then got himself into the scoring pose, and... like a slow motion replay, he sling-shotted the ball with utterly tremendous power... as our eyes time-warped its approach, closer... and closer... until... finally... BANG! It HIT our goalie on the forehead, REBOUNDED and flew up into the air... higher... higher... then seemingly stopped, still spinning.
Then! As it came down... Arnaud JUMPED HIGH into the air... and he caught the ball... and he fell to the ground.
A sudden silence quaked through the stadium.
Everyone knew this was it. This was THE match of 1993 and so it was either now, or never.
As Arnaud quietly clutched the ball beneath his crouching sovereignty, we all felt and knew... this moment here and now would last an eternity.
With only five seconds remaining, Arnaud, like the quiet yet ominous sound of a volcano about to give its final roar, arose from the floor like a leaf upon the wind... and, as he gracefully rose above our heads, with like a shining yet hidden power summoned from within, he raised his arms high and declaring... and COMMANDED the ball from his hands, it SPLICING through the air with a ROCKETTING FURY... all the way from our end of the court... to the other end of the court... and...
DA-BAM-PLOP! It seemingly just bounced through the goalie's legs, up and OFF the underside of the cross bar and INTO the back of the NET!
⧏ "OOOOOUUUUUUUUUIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!" ⧐
The crowd ROARED! They roared and roared with all their might! Arnaud had EQUALIZED the game! It was finally a DRAW after all that nail biting action of painfully crawling to our peril!
"ARNAUD! ARNAUD! ARNAUD!" The crowd cheered.
Arnaud was the King and everyone loved him. All the players took him into the changing rooms where we all sang and praised, ARNAUD, The King of the Max Linder - Cologne Sué, Match of '93.
Long live the French.
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