José’s Good Luck
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José Tavares tightened his grip on the fishing net behind him and grabbed the sand with his toes.
Scan the field, he thought as he stepped forward. Look for a teammate to pass to. He moved the sand with short kicks. Left, right. Left, right.
José always thought about soccer, even as he helped Mama, Uncle António, and the oxen pull the net from the sea.
“Slow down, José,” Papa called.
“Slow down, José,” his little sister, Carla, chanted. She danced across the sand and tossed her rag ball at him.
José loosened his grip on the net. He planted his feet firmly in the sand, dipped his head for-ward, and gently butted the ball back to Carla.
Then he turned to watch Papa lead their oxen, Felix and Pedro, toward the barn that stood about a soccer field’s distance from the sea. Left, right. Left, right. Each step the ox team took drew the net closer to shore.
José’s heart felt heavy. He knew that fishing was Papa’s life. It was Grandpapa’s and Uncle António’s life, too. He couldn’t expect them to understand his need to hurry. He couldn’t expect them to understand that if you wanted soccer to be your life, you must play soccer. That if you wanted to play on the school team, you must go to practice. And that practice started today.
Mama and Uncle António straightened the huge net as its front edge eased up onto the beach. “Pull, José!” Mama urged.
Once more José flattened his foot, held his toes and his head down, and pressed forward.
“The net feels full,” Mama said. “Maybe our luck will change.”
Maybe it will, José thought, but probably not. Every summer morning when the sea was calm, Papa and Uncle António put a net across the back of their high-prowed boat and rowed out to sea. There, they dropped the net into the water, then rowed back to shore. José and Grandpapa hitched the lead rope on the net to the ox team. The oxen and José’s family then hauled the net ashore.
Once, all the fishermen in this part of Portugal had used ox teams. Now, everyone but Papa used a tractor. “Too many mouths to feed,” Papa said when folks asked him why he didn’t buy a tractor. “Not enough luck.”
José knew this was true. With a little luck, a net could snag a school of herring or sardines to be sold at the fish auction. With a little luck, Papa could make enough money to buy a tractor.
It was José’s job to feed and groom Felix and Pedro, but if Papa had a tractor instead, José knew that Papa would want to take care of it. Then José would have time to fish and practice soccer. José smiled. Maybe this day would be different. Maybe, just maybe, this day would be lucky.
José’s thoughts were interrupted when the catch of fish in the net finally became visible. Grandpapa and Papa hurried to help José and Uncle António. The four of them waded into the water, wedged their weight against the sides of the net, and drew the net onto the sand.
Suddenly the fish on José’s side of the net shifted. “Tighten your grip, José!” Papa ordered.
José lunged forward just in time to see a link in the net snap. Then—Snap! Snap! Snap! Three more links unraveled.
The
biggest sardines José had ever seen slipped through
the hole in the net and swam back out to sea. A few bite-sized
sardines flip-flopped free on the beach.
José’s ears burned with anger and disappointment.
Grandpapa, Uncle António, and Papa all struggled
to drag the broken net onto dry sand. They needed José’s
help. José wanted to help. But all he could
do was watch.
He watched Carla catch the bite-sized sardines and plop them into a bag. He watched Mama help sort the remaining fish: some for her to cook into stew, some for Grandmama to can, some for Aunt Teresa to sell at the market.
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Then José turned and ran as fast as his bare feet could move across sand. He ran past Felix and Pedro, past the ox barn, and past the auction block to a hedge of sweet bay trees that bordered the soccer field. Practice had started. José squatted behind the trees and listened to the coach.
“Approach the ball from an angle and point your shoulder toward the goal,” he said. “Kick with your instep. Let your hip follow through. Practice!” José shut his eyes and pictured himself scoring a goal.
“Soccer is a team sport!” the coach shouted. “Every player must do his best for the team. Work together! Success is the result of teamwork!”
The sun was slipping into the sea when José went home. Someone had fed and groomed Felix and Pedro. The boat had been beached and cleaned. The net was spread out on the beach, and Grandpapa was busy mending it.
Grandpapa looked up at José, then motioned for him to come over. As José approached him, Grandpapa smiled, then his fingers went back to work. “In some ways, José, a family is like a fishing net,” Grandpapa said as he wove strands of rope together to repair the broken links. “The strength of the whole depends on the strength of each link.”
José studied an oversized cork bobber trapped in the sand and thought about his family. He knew he had let them down when he had run off after the net broke. It reminded José of what the coach had been saying about teamwork.
“I’m sorry about today,” José said finally. “I guess a family is like soccer, too. Everyone has to work together to succeed.” Then he used all his strength to run forward and kick the bobber. His kick lofted it high into the air before it landed in a sandy ridge.
“Score!” Grandpapa shouted.
Lucky score, José thought. But with practice—even if it’s just practice with a bobber, for now—luck can turn into skill. Then anything can happen.
José smiled as he ran back to help Grandpapa fold the fishing net. Tomorrow would be different. He was sure of it.
