“Points are usually scored by running the ball or receiving it from a pass above, on, or across the opponent's goal line for a touchdown (six points) or by kicking the ball from scrimmage by place kick or drop kick (a virtually obsolete technique) above the crossbar and between the uprights for a field goal (three points). A touchdown may also be scored by a defender who intercepts a passed ball or a fumble and carries the ball into the opponent's end zone.”
American Football: Play of the Game – Principles of Play[1]
Over the course of the weeks and days before the championship match tension had run high throughout the village. Supporters had begun to wear their team colours from the moment of the final eliminations and arguments on the street and even outbreaks of fighting were frequent as the day of the contest drew near.
The teams had withdrawn to separate training camps and each day groups of supporters would go out to watch them practice for the game. If one of the players appeared in the village for any reason he would be surrounded instantly by groups of excited fans, swarming and jostling so that the Guardians had to clear a way through the crowd.
Abakono, the star player for the Hill, had to be rescued when he was almost attacked by a hostile mob shouting threats and insults as he tried to return to the Field to visit his family. Large and well built as he was, the hostility of the crowd left him pale and shaken as he was pulled away to safety.
The mob followed him back to the training camp, shouting “Traitor!”, “Coward!” “This game will be your last!” “Our boys will tear you to pieces!”
The Guardians too, were preparing fiercely for the event, with drills on how to immobilise unruly fans and special hardwood clubs in case it should be necessary to crack any heads. And of course, the Guardians themselves were split between Hill and Field, so there was a good deal of banter and argument as they prepared for the big day, some of it not particularly good natured.
The night before the match saw a spectacular thunderstorm. Lightning cracked the sky in the small hours with a continuing roll of thunder that made sleep impossible. The morning was soggy, with plumes of steaming vapour rising over the soaking ground and water pooling in the potholes. By mid-day, the way to the ground was thronging with fans wearing their colours and singing the team songs. Every boy was a would-be quarterback. The girls dreamed about the heroes on the team.
Even the Readers had abandoned their Books and were on the way to the match. The Hill was my team but I was going with a friend who supported the Field. That fraternisation would have been thought of as treachery by some, so neither of us was wearing our colours openly.
We arrived at the ground half an hour before the start of the game but the sloping banks overlooking the playing area were already crowded to capacity. The crowd were chanting and singing as they waited for the teams to take the field.
At last, they arrived, the Hill wearing sky-blue shorts, shirts and helmets; the Field wearing green. The crowd found its voice with whistles and cheers, songs and chants as they ran onto the centre of the field. Lailavu, the Head Gardener, now even larger than when I had met him years earlier, stepped out onto the field wearing his intricately dyed ceremonial sarong and called the teams to order. At this point I should mention that the number of players on each side has gradually been increased since the departure of the Americans so that our football games are played by twenty players on each side (although we do not permit substitutions).
The Gardeners began to deliver Our Granny’s blessings but beyond the first words, they were completely drowned by the hoots and whoops of the crowd. The match ball, by tradition the largest coconut harvested in the year, was shown to the crowd, the whistle sounded and the game was under way.
The Field were the stronger team, both in the number of good players and in their individual abilities but as the game started, the Hill had the better of it with Abakono, their star quarterback marshalling his men and distributing passes right and left. He swung the heavy coconut from side to side, hurling it with pinpoint precision to his receivers so that they were soon encroaching on the Field’s end-zone.
Whether running with the ball or passing, he seemed able to move wherever he wanted to on the field and, after the first quarter, the Hill had scored three touch downs and the Field only one. I think I have mentioned that, because of the hardness of the ‘ball’, kicking it is no longer a part of our game so the score stood simply at three to one. The second and third quarters were more equal, with two touchdowns from each team so that, at the start of the final quarter of the game the score stood at five points to the Hill and three to the Field.
The fourth quarter opened with the Field on offence and, as they gradually made their way up the length of the field, rushing the ball through a series of first downs, it was clear that the momentum of the game had altered in their favour. The genius handling of Abakono was to no avail as the ball remained obstinately in the possession of the opposing team and, towards the middle of the quarter, was rushed into the end zone to bring the scores to within a single point.
Supporters of the Field were ecstatic, especially as the restart resulted in an interception so that they were once again in possession of the ball and immediately recommenced the slow march towards another goal. It was at this point that the referees noticed that the Field had more than the normal number of players and the game had to be halted. The players and the team managers denied all knowledge of the two extra men who were duly removed by the Guardians and the game restarted with the ball in the hands of the team from the Hill.
As the game restarted, the crowd became restive and the Guardians had to charge into the banks of spectators to arrest some fans for throwing objects onto the pitch. With these disruptions, the crowd was becoming increasingly vocal. Several more invaders had to be ejected from the pitch and, just as the ball was snapped to Abakono a missile flew out of the crowd.
It was a coconut. Not quite as big as the match ball but hurled with deadly accuracy and it struck Abakono on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground where he lay crumpled and unconscious.
As the Guardians strained to hold back the crowd, the match referees conferred with the Guardian officers and the Gardeners and, after ten minutes the Head Gardener announced from his raised viewing platform that, as it would be too dangerous to continue, the game was ended and the Hill were declared the winners because they had been leading the scores at the end of play.
I will not attempt to debate the rights and wrongs of this decision. In principle, it should have been referred to the Book of Rules for football – we have a copy left by the Americans – but I concede that this reference would not have been easy or, probably, practical in the heated context we are discussing. What is clear is that no one had properly thought through the consequences of this action.
As Abakono was carried off the field (he recovered from the injury but this game proved to be the high water mark of his football career) hundreds of disgruntled fans stormed onto the field, shouting and ran towards the Gardener’s viewing stand. Head Gardener Lailavu, tried to speak to them but, even with his loudhailer, we could not hear what he was trying to say.
The crowd pressed on all sides and the Guardians surrounding the platform were forced backward, brandishing their clubs to keep some measure of control. It quickly became clear that they could not hold the situation for long and Lailavu looked anxiously round for the Captain of the Guardians who was behind him on the podium.
The Captain marshalled his men into close formation and they pushed and clubbed their way through the press with the Head Gardener’s portly figure in their centre, as far as possible from the crowd. Not far enough, as it turned out, for a hand reached from the throng and snatched his beautiful sarong so that all were treated to the unedifying sight of the Gardener’s portly buttocks wobbling their way to safety.
There was indignation on all sides. The normal rules by which football is played on the island mean that injury to a single player, however caused, would not be allowed to interrupt a game and the supporters of the Field were convinced that the tide had turned in their favour so that they had been robbed of certain victory. This was hotly disputed from the Hill, who were thirsty to avenge the felling of their hero. Individual fights among the crowd began to coalesce into a single battle and soon the pitch was a melee of fists, feet, teeth and sticks.
The Guardians were hopelessly outnumbered and, although they tried manfully to impose order, in the end they were forced to withdraw as the writhing mob moved up into the village. Soon doors and windows were being broken down and choking clouds of smoke gusted down the streets as fires were set by the rioters.
Fortunately, the day had clouded over and as the afternoon storm broke, both the fires and the spirits of the mob were cooled. The Guardians were able to arrest some of the ringleaders and, by the evening, apart form the lingering smell of smoke, the village was peaceful.
[1] Encyclopaedia Britannica 2004 –needs a proper reference to the relevant 1941 rule book.
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