floor front door.

He leaned his shoulder into the cedar door and pushed, his hands loaded with soccer balls.

The door flew open and the balls ricocheted around the living room floor. He heaved a great sigh and threw himself into the nearest couch.

On top of a long day at work, he had just finished his first day of football practice with his new team, the Spurs, at the Navy Base.

For the past three years Oliver had coached the Junior Leaguers.

His brother Ethan's son, Elijah, was a Junior player and he wanted to spend more time with him.

Elijah, now nine, could move up to the senior league and so could Oliver.

He loved coaching junior league. The kids were so tiny and adorable and gung ho. But now he was ready for the big boys' regulation field, regulation goal and some real football.

The team that showed up to greet him today was anything but the dream of a team he had in mind. They were big all right, not just so tall that he had to look up to quite a few of them, but wide, too. And they were ornery as mules.

He practically had to drag some of them up the field.

They'd sit down when they got bored and they always complained, "Let's scrimmage, Coach Trott. This practicin's for the birds, man.'' Their language was foul, their skills were lousy, and their attitude was, well, an attitude.

He felt sorry for Elijah who was just learning to cope with the new giant size of a field.

There were a few notable exceptions. Liam and Vince from St. David's had played with Oliver's team two years ago and they played with gusto.

After practice was over he put his arm around the two St. David's boys and walked them off the field.

"What's with these byes on this team? I thought all you guys eat, breath and sleep football.'' "I dunno, Coach, I never see these guys out playing they just go home and watch TV or play Nintendo.'' "Hmm, we gotta do something about that, if we're gonna win this series.'' Now stretched out on the couch, Oliver felt cheated, stuck with the leftovers, late comers and uninterested.

Oliver knew his sister, Georgia, was downstairs talking to Mama, but he was too tired to get up. Maybe if he got something to eat.

Georgia and Mrs. Trott had heard Oliver come in but not come down.

"He must be tired. You'll have to talk to him another time.'' "No way, I missed him the last time, I'm going to go grab him.'' Georgia zoomed up the steps to Oliver's apartment.

He was in the kitchen about to open a can of beans.

"Put that down and get yourself downstairs and talk to me! Mama's got peas and rice cookin' and she needs some company.'' Oliver knew that "needs company'' was the code word for trouble.

"Is Mamma all right?'' he asked.

"Business is way down.'' Oliver followed Georgia to Mamma's first floor apartment, gave her a kiss and dished himself out a plate of food.

"What's this I hear, you're going into forced retirement, Mamma?'' Mamma shot Georgia a not-so-friendly look.

"St. George's is ordering the girls' uniform's off the rack,'' Georgia said.

Oliver knew exactly what that meant. Their mother, Margaret Trott, made the school uniforms for all the children in the neighbourhood.

The Trott's had always lived on Turkey Hill in St. George's and their family had the kind of house that was a magnet for the whole neighbourhood.

Oliver, Ethan, and Georgia had grown up in a house full of noise, the smell of gingerbread and the constant whir of the sewing machine.

Parents were proud to have their children, both boys and girls wear "Margaret Trott's clothes''. And though they were kneaded all day in the red dirt, her blue blazers, starched shirts and gray pinafores and shorts wore like iron.

She also kept her prices down and her sewing table full of orders.

"Last month,'' Momma continued, "the PTA found a wholesaler who could make all the uniforms for the whole school. They're undercutting my price by $10.'' Slowly but surely the children came in these past two weeks to tell her that they couldn't order uniforms from her anymore.

Some of them hugged her and cried a little. And Mrs. Trott cried too. No longer would they bring her flowers and tree frogs.

"I told them, to come in for cookies, anyway, but I know they'll get distracted by other things.

"It's not the money, mind you, I can get by without it.'' She would miss those ragamuffins, squirming and fighting as she tried to get them measured.

"It's gonna get awful quiet around here,'' she sighed. "Anyway, enough of my troubles. What you so down in the mouth about, Oliver?'' "Ahh, football's started and the team is not exactly championship material.'' Oliver began his tale of woe.

"I have the same problems with my kids,'' Georgia said. "They don't listen, but when I lock up the TV in the closet for a week, things really calm down.

They do their homework, they play outside. Then something I want to watch comes on the TV and I pull it out again. The yellin' and fightin' starts all over.'' "Why don't you get rid of the darned thing, Sis?'' Georgia thought for a minute, put her chin in her hand and said, "I guess I don't have the guts.'' They all laughed out loud.

With two older brothers, Georgia had never been known for her lack of guts.

"You know, ladies,'' Oliver said, "you've just given me a great idea.'' Mother and daughter looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

On Thursday, the team practice was again dismal and the first game on Saturday was worse. The bickering and the lack of practice was obvious as the Spurs were skunked 10 to 0.

At the end of the game, rather than talk to the team Oliver gathered the parents.

"Listen, I'm going to make you an offer. If you loan me your televisions for two weeks I'll give you a raffle ticket for a $200 prize.'' "Are you crazy, give up our TV's? You'll just sell them to the highest bidder and get more than $200!'' "No, no you don't understand me. I'll come around and collect your televisions and in exchange I'll give you a raffle ticket. I'll keep the TV's safe at my house and at the end of the two weeks I'll draw a ticket.

"One of you will win $200 just for loaning me your TV. I want these kid to concentrate on the game for the next two weeks not on the Boob Tube.'' There was complete silence.

"Just two weeks, folks, I dare ya' to do it.'' "All right, Oliver, you're on. Come pick mine up tonight.'' "Mine too. We'll see you tonight.'' Everyone nodded in agreement. Tonight.

"A miracle!'' Oliver thought.

That afternoon, Oliver borrowed his brother's van and went around St. George's and St. David's gathering up the team's TV's.

By the time he got home it was dark. Thank goodness his neighbours couldn't see him "stealing'' into his house with two dozen televisions.

The next week's practices were amazingly productive. They went over and over some of their basic skills. There were almost no fights and no one sitting down on the job.

Oliver couldn't be sure if it was the humbling ten to zero score or the TV heist.

Saturday's game was even better. The Spurs held onto a 2-2 tie.

"That was great guys, that was great, GREAT!'' he cheered as they came off the field.

"Hey, Coach, when we gonna get our TV's back? World Cup playoffs are starting tomorrow.'' "I was just gonna invite all of you over for a playoffs party at my Momma's tomorrow, 3 p.m. Be there, bring your families.'' That afternoon, Oliver pushed open the screen door of his Momma's apartment carrying a huge, bulky box.

"Oliver Trott, what crazy thing have you got there?'' "It's your Christmas present, Momma.'' "In the middle of September? What am I gonna do with such a huge TV?'' she grimaced as he ripped open the carton and set the machine up in the old armoire.

"You're gonna have parties, Momma. In fact we're having a party tomorrow for the team to watch Bermuda play El Salvador.'' "Oh, we are, are we?'' her eyes brightened. "I better get some gingerbread in the oven now. hadn't I?'' Sunday, the whole team showed up with their families. Momma was busy serving up her goodies and holding babies. Oliver was next to the TV, shouting and waving his arms and yelling "Did you see that play? Did you guys see that? We should try that?'' At the end of the afternoon, Ethan came over to Oliver and patted him on the shoulder.

"Brother, the parents say you can keep your $200 and they don't want the TVs back, neither. The kids are actually talking to their parents, doing their homework and besides, we want to win the League championship.

"Momma, how 'bout we come over on Wednesday to see the Bermuda-Jamaica game?'' "Sure, Honey, and bring the whole team again.'' Practices got better and better. The team particularly worked on the plays they saw during the Bermuda-El Salvador game.

Wednesday night, they all packed into Mrs. Trott's living room to watch Bermuda play Jamaica and eat molasses cookies.

Saturday they played brilliantly and won 5-1.

"Chili dogs on the house!'' Oliver shouted.

The season continued and the Spurs racked up one win after another.

Training with the playoff games continued at Momma Trott's and she even hung a little blackboard on her gate that announced what TV special would be shown at her house that evening.

The house was again filled with the tumult of kids, the tinkle of tea cups and the smell of her baking.

At the championship game, the Spurs easily beat the first team that had exacted such a humiliating loss from them.

Oliver gathered the team together as the parents stood behind and said: "Team, revenge is sometimes sweet, but teamwork and hard work is always better.

"Now, don't forget, Christmas party at Momma Trott's.'' The Christmas Party at Turkey Hill was the best ever. The whole family and neighbourhood were there. The team wore their red Spurs shirts and Oliver had on his Coach's T-Shirt and a Santa beard.

"Oliver, honey, help me with these cookies out of the oven.'' "You tired, Mom?'' "Oh, a little, but I'm in heaven thanks to you and that confounded TV in there.'' They both laughed.

"Oliver, when you gonna find some nice young woman and give me some more grandchildren?'' "Oh, when I find someone as sweet as you and your cookies, Momma. Maybe I'll meet her right here in Momma's Video Thee-ater.'' "You know, that's where I met your Dad. At the Rosebank Thee-ater.'' There was a tug at Oliver's sleeve and he looked to see Liam.

"Great season, bye!'' "Yeah, coach. Coach this is my Mom, Ericalynn.'' "Nice to meet you. Is your Dad here, too?'' "No my Dad lives in Atlanta.'' "That's where World Cup is going to be. Maybe you can go.'' "Ooh Mom can I, can I?'' Liam ran off to tell the others.

"How come we haven't met before? At a game or...'' "I'm always working on Saturdays and evenings at King Edward, in the maternity ward.'' "That's too bad. You deliver babies?'' "Well, yes, I help.'' "Gee,'' he said, taking her by the elbow, "I love babies. Would you like a molasses cookie right out of the oven? "Let me introduce you to the baker.'' SHORT STORY COMPETITION CPN