The Old Genie Hottabych

HOW MANY FOOTBALLS DO YOU NEED?

Meanwhile, the stadium was full of that very special festive atmosphere which pervades it during decisive football matches. Loud-speakers blared. A hundred thousand people were heatedly discussing the possible outcome of the game, thus giving rise to a hum of human voices incomparable to anything else. Everyone was impatiently awaiting the umpire’s whistle.

Finally, the umpire and the linesmen appeared on the emerald-green field. The umpire was carrying a ball which was to be kicked back and forth — thus covering quite a few miles on land and in the air — and, finally, having landed in one goal more times than in the other, was to decide which team was the winner that day. He put the ball down in the centre of the field. The two teams appeared from their locker rooms and lined up opposite each other. The captains shook hands and drew lots to see which team was to play against the sun. The unfortunate lot fell to the Zubilo team, to the great satisfaction of the Shaiba team 4 and a portion of the fans.

“Will you, O Volka, consider it possible to explain to your unworthy servant what these twenty-two pleasant young men are going to do with the ball?” Hottabych asked respectfully.

Volka waved his hand impatiently and said, “You’ll see for yourself in a minute.”

At that very moment a Zubilo player kicked the ball smartly and the game was on.

“Do you mean that these twenty-two nice young men will have to run about such a great field, get tired, fall and shove each other, only to have a chance to kick this plain-looking leather ball around for a few seconds? And all because they gave them just this one ball for all twenty-two of them?” Hottabych asked in a very displeased voice a few minutes later.

Volka was completely engrossed in the game and did not reply. He could not be bothered with Hottabych at a time when the Shaiba’s forwards had got possession of the ball and were approaching the Zubilo goal.

“You know what, Volka?” Zhenya whispered. “It’s real luck Hottabych doesn’t know a thing about football, because he’d surely stick his finger in the pie!”

“I know,” Volka agreed. Suddenly, he gasped and jumped to his feet.

At that very moment, the other hundred thousand fans also jumped to their feet and began to shout. The umpire’s whistle pierced the air, but the players had already come to a standstill.

Something unheard-of in the history of football had happened, something that could not be explained by any law of nature: twenty-two brightly coloured balls dropped from somewhere above in the sky and rolled down the field. They were all made of top-grain morocco leather.

“Outrageous! Hooliganism! Who did this?” the fans shouted.

The culprit should have certainly been taken away and even handed over to the militia, but no one could discover who he was. Only three people of the hundred thousand — Hottabych and his two young friends — knew who was responsible.

“See what you’ve gone and done?” Volka whispered. “You’ve stopped the game and prevented the Shaiba team from making a sure point!”

However, Volka was not especially displeased at the team’s misfortune, for he was a Zubilo fan.

“I wanted to improve things,” Hottabych whispered guiltily. “I thought it would be much better if each player could play with his own ball as much as he wanted to, instead of shoving and chasing around like mad on such a great big field.”

“Golly! I don’t know what to do with you!” Volka cried in despair and pulled the old man down. He hurriedly explained the basic rules of football to him. “It’s a shame that the Zubilo team has to play opposite the sun now, because after they change places in the second half it won’t be in anyone’s eyes any more. This way, the Shaiba players have a terrific advantage, and for no good reason at all,” he concluded emphatically, hoping Hottabych would bear his words in mind.

“Yes, it really is unfair,” the old man agreed. Whereupon the sun immediately disappeared behind a little cloud and stayed there till the end of the game.

Meanwhile, the extra balls had been taken off the field, the umpire totalled up the time wasted, and the game was resumed.

After Volka’s explanation, Hottabych began to follow the course of the match with ever-increasing interest. The Shaiba players, who had lost a sure point because of the twenty-two balls, were nervous and were playing badly. The old man felt guilty and was conscience-stricken.