Alfie’s Big Ban

by Jude Ellery

Mr Sanchez returned home from work, kicked off his shoes and slouched into his armchair. His peace was short-lived, however. The soft sound of sobbing interrupted his browse through the day’s news, and he went upstairs to investigate.

“What’s wrong, son?”

Alfie was in bed, the covers pulled tightly over his little convulsing body. He gasped for breath as he tried to explain to his father.

“It’s no fair, Papa! We won the game today but I got a red. Now they’re saying I won’t be allowed to play in any more cup games because ‘violence simply isn’t tolerated in the County Cup’. It’s no fair!”

He burst into tears again and his father hugged him tight, feeling his son’s pain.

“What happened?”

“It’s ridiculous, Papa. Our P.E. teacher, Mr Watt, he was referee. He blew for a foul as I cleared the ball, then as they were making a substitution, one of their players went over to him with a bleeding nose. He said I’d done it, that I’d kicked the ball at his face on purpose, and Mr Watt believed him and sent me off. Now I’m banned.”

He broke down again. Mr Sanchez’s compassion evolved into anger.

“They can’t do that! They’re obviously making an example of you, son. Who better to use to preach their hypocritical morals than the boy with the Spanish name, no? I’m writing a letter. If they don’t let you play all the way to the final they can forget about the disco lights for the end of term do!”

Alfie stopped crying. He wiped his face and grinned at his hero.

An hour later Mr Sanchez was finished. He’d painstakingly written out the letter on his computer, slowly typing it with his right index finger, and even using the dictionary to ensure he got the spelling of every word correct. Alfie came downstairs.

“It’s all sorted, son. I’ve explained that you’re not a violent boy. You never argue with your brother, you take great care of your guinea pigs, you’ve never been in a fight, and anyway, he can’t ban you on the word of some boy from another school. Oh and I also mentioned how you’re a good Christian boy, and your grandfather was a vicar, for Christ’s sake!”

Alfie beamed at his father.

“Thanks, Papa. You always stick up for me.”

“It’s what I’m here for, son.”

“There’s just one thing, Papa, something that happened after the game that might make your letter sound… silly.”

Mr Sanchez frowned. “What?”

“Well… I admitted to Mr Watt that I done it.”