Sport Tournaments : Part 1

Gizem woke up to a gray sky, the wind rattling the window, and the salty scent of the town filling her room. It was Thursday, the fourth day of the festival. She sat up in bed, picked up her journal, and wrote with her pen: “Day 23: Yesterday was all about writing and drawing, we’re waiting for Monday. Today, football starts, Yiğit’s team will be on the field. I’m excited, but I don’t know why.” She placed the pen on the desk, felt a flutter inside her, stood up, put on a gray hoodie and jeans, tied her hair up, and looked at herself in the mirror. Match day… Let’s see what happens.

When she arrived at school, the courtyard was bustling; students were moving in groups, sports bags swinging on their shoulders. As the morning bell rang, she entered 12-A. The class was in its usual chaos, but this time, there was a different energy. Mert had gotten up from his seat and was scribbling something on the board with a pen, Emre was teasing him, Yiğit was juggling a football in the corner, and Kaan had his headphones on, lost in his own world.

An announcement came over the speakers: “The festival sports tournaments start today! First up is the football tournament, with matches taking place in the large indoor gym. The tournament will last seven days, from Thursday to Wednesday, excluding the weekend. There are four groups of four teams, each team will play once in the group stage, only the second-place teams will advance, and the quarterfinals will continue by draw. The first match is today at 16:00, between 12-A and 11-C. Good luck!”

The class erupted instantly; everyone jumped to their feet, banged on desks, and cheered: “12-A! 12-A!” Mert slammed the board with his hand, grinning. “Did you hear that? Our first match is against 11-C, our eternal rivals!” he said, his voice shaking with excitement. “There are four groups, we’re in Group B: 12-A, 11-C, 10-B, 9-A. We’ll play one match against each, only the second-place team moves on.”

Emre pushed his chair back, leaned forward with his hands on the desk, and laughed, filling the room. “You remember 11-C’s forward, that tall bastard? He drove Mert crazy last year!” he said, grinning at Mert. “But we have Yiğit, our captain will dominate the field, right, captain?”

Yiğit looked up with a calm smile. “Our group won’t be easy,” he said, his voice steady but confident. “10-B’s defense is solid as a rock, they don’t let anything through. 9-A is fast but plays a bit messy, they usually send the ball out. And 11-C… well, you know, we conceded that last-minute goal last year.” He shrugged, his eyes scanning the class. “But we’ll take it this time, don’t worry.”

Kaan lowered his headphones around his neck and spoke in a lazy tone: “If we steal the ball, it’s over,” he said, his eyes on his phone. “Yiğit should pass, I’ll hold the defense, the rest is up to you guys.”

Okan jumped up from the back row, slamming his hands on the desk, his eyes shining. “I’ll fly down the left wing, just get me the ball!” he said eagerly.

Mert turned to him. “You’ll fly, yeah, but don’t send the ball out again!” he teased, making the class burst into laughter.

Pınar flipped her hair, sat up straight in her chair, and spoke with authority: “You guys take care of football, leave volleyball to us,” she said, her gaze briefly meeting Yiğit’s. “But be careful with 11-C, captain. Their forward is really fast.” She smiled at Yiğit, then shot a quick glance at Gizem, her lips slightly pursed, but she said nothing.

Selin closed her notebook and said calmly: “11-C was good last year, but you guys play more organized,” her eyes landing on Yiğit. “Just use tactics, that’s enough.”

Mert grinned. “Of course we will, Your Highness!” he said, making Selin roll her eyes.

The air in the class was electric; everyone was talking about the match, banging on desks, chanting, “12-A will win!” Gizem sat in the corner, quietly listening, thinking to herself: Yiğit is so calm, but he seems sure they’ll win. A smile appeared on her lips.

During the break before lunch, Pınar, Beste, and Zeynep huddled in a corner of the hallway, whispering. Pınar crossed her arms, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and spoke with irritation: “Did you see Yiğit walking home with Gizem and Beyza again yesterday?” she said, narrowing her eyes. “He’s always with her—at the stage, at lunch, now even on the way home… What’s up with that?”

Beste smirked, leaning in with a mocking tone: “Yeah, it’s a bit weird,” she said, her voice dripping with gossip. “On Monday, they were pretty close on stage too, with that whole ‘drum-guitar harmony’ thing… Poor Yiğit, honestly, Gizem thinks she’s something special, always trying to stand out.”

Zeynep fidgeted with her hands, nodding. “She is getting too familiar,” she murmured shyly.

Pınar furrowed her brows. “I don’t know, she’s the new girl, probably just trying to get attention,” she said, her voice carrying a hidden jab. “But clinging to Yiğit like that is weird, like she’s been here for years… But whatever, I don’t care.” She rolled her eyes, but the tension in her voice and the jealousy in her gaze were too obvious to hide.

Beste giggled. “You’re right, she’s a bit too comfortable,” she said, lowering her voice. “And Yiğit, being clueless as ever, just plays along. The new girl is totally showing off, what else could it be?”

Zeynep jumped in: “She even tried to be front and center in volleyball, remember?” she said, her voice picking up speed.

Pınar nodded. “Yeah, and she joined the writing club too, sticking her nose into everything,” she said, pursing her lips. She didn’t say a name, but the jealousy lingered in the air.

During the break before lunch, Yiğit, Mert, Emre, Kaan, and Okan gathered under a tree in the courtyard, with Baran joining them. Yiğit held the ball in his hand, drew a small circle on the ground, and spoke calmly: “11-C’s forward is fast. Mert, press in midfield so he can’t steal the ball,” he said, looking at Mert. “But be careful, he got past you last year, stay sharp this time.”

Mert grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Got it, captain, I’ll stop that bastard,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “But their defense is tough too, they’ve got two center-backs, one of them is tall and strong in the air. Kaan and I need to lock them down.”

Kaan looked up lazily. “I’ll take the tall one,” he said with a shrug. “If I steal the ball, I’ll pass it to Yiğit. You set up the play, captain.”

Yiğit nodded. “Alright, I’ll hold the midfield,” he said, drawing another line in the dirt circle. “Emre, look for gaps on the right wing, 11-C’s left side is weak, we’ll break through there.”

Emre laughed. “I’ll run fast, just pass me the ball,” he said, then turned to Okan. “You be careful on the left, you lost the ball last year.”

Okan raised his hands. “I won’t lose it this time, promise!” he said eagerly. “If I get the ball, I’ll take it straight to the goal, Yiğit just needs to send in the cross.”

Baran cut in, “I’m on the bench, but if I get in, I’ll take Mert’s spot,” he said calmly. “I’ll help press in midfield, we’ll cut off 11-C’s passes.”

Yiğit looked at his notes and said, calmly but firmly, “Can is solid in goal, but let's keep the defense up front. The tactic is simple: win the ball, quick pass, shoot. That’s all.”

Noon had arrived, and the cafeteria was crowded at this hour. Gizem and Beyza were sitting at a table, eating their sandwiches.

Yiğit approached with his tray, a calm smile on his face. “Is this seat free?” he asked, his eyes drifting to Gizem.

Beyza grinned, “Of course, go ahead,” she said, pulling out a chair.

Yiğit sat down, placed his food on the table, and picked up his fork. “Are you excited for the match?” he asked.

Gizem smiled, “Yeah, I heard the first match is important,” she said with curiosity in her voice.

Beyza jumped in, “It’s against 11-C, we’ll definitely be there,” she said enthusiastically.

Yiğit nodded, looking at Gizem, “I’m expecting you guys there tonight, you’ll cheer for the team,” he said sincerely.

Gizem’s heart raced. “Of course, we’ll come,” she said shyly, her eyes dropping to her sandwich.

During the next break, Gizem and Beyza were walking down the hallway. Beyza smirked, “Yiğit seemed like he was especially waiting for you,” she teased.

Gizem blushed. “No way, he meant the team,” she said, but her voice trembled.

Beyza giggled, “Come on, you two were practically making eye contact the whole time. I think there’s something romantic going on,” she said, nudging her arm.

Gizem went quiet. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, but inside, she felt giddy.

At that moment, Pınar, Beste, and Zeynep were standing near the cafeteria exit. Pınar raised her voice, “We’re going to the match tonight, girls! We’re supporting the team!” Her eyes drifted to Yiğit. “Yiğit’s going to be amazing on the field, he is the captain, after all.”

Beste grinned, “Yeah, they’ll win for sure.”

Yiğit lifted his head, unfazed, “Thanks, Pınar,” he said, not making a big deal of it.

Mert jumped in, “You all better come!” he said, laughing. Pınar pursed her lips but stayed quiet.

At 4:00 PM, the sports hall was packed. The fans had filled the stands, chants echoed through the space: “12-A! 12-A!” The bright lights illuminated the large court, and the lines on the floor gleamed. Gizem and Beyza found seats in the stands, while Pınar and the other girls sat in the front, waving banners with “12-A” written on them.

The match began, and the referee blew the whistle. 11-C took possession of the ball and made a quick attack. Their forward, a tall boy, dribbled forward. Kaan intervened but couldn't steal the ball. A shot was taken, and Can jumped in goal, catching it from the corner. The stands erupted in applause.

The first few minutes of the match were rather calm, with both teams attempting long shots. In the 4th minute, 12-A won the ball. Yiğit passed to Mert, who advanced through midfield, but 11-C’s center-back intercepted and launched a counterattack. Their forward took a shot, but Can deflected it with his fingertips, sending it out for a corner. In the 5th minute, the corner was taken—a header from 11-C’s center-back, but the ball went over the bar. Gizem clenched her hands and thought to herself, Come on, Yiğit.

In the 10th minute, Yiğit took possession, dribbled past defenders, and passed to Emre, who sprinted down the right wing and took a shot. The goalkeeper made a diving save, and the crowd groaned, “Ahh!” In the 12th minute, 11-C attacked again. Their forward got past Kaan and took a shot, but Can dove and caught the ball. In the 15th minute, 11-C scored; a pass from midfield reached their forward, who dribbled past Mert and then Can, shooting into the empty net: 1-0. The stands fell silent. Pınar shouted, “Come on, Yiğit, pull yourselves together!”

In the second half, Baran substituted for Okan. Early in the half, Yiğit won a free kick near the goal. He took a deep breath and struck the ball—it deflected off the wall, and the goalkeeper caught it. Immediately after, Okan received a pass from Yiğit on the left wing, crossed it, and Mert headed it just over the bar. The crowd groaned. In the 17th minute, Emre sprinted down the right and received a long pass from Yiğit. He was one-on-one with the goalkeeper, took the shot, and hit the post. Frustrated shouts of “Damn it!” echoed in the hall.

11-C quickly counterattacked. Their forward sprinted forward, Kaan slid in with a tackle, but the shot was taken—Can dived, and the ball narrowly missed, going out for a corner. In the 20th minute, Yiğit intercepted a pass, sent it to Mert, who dribbled forward and shot, but the goalkeeper saved it. However, a mistake led to 11-C’s second goal. A miscommunication in defense allowed their forward to steal the ball, dribble past Can, and score: 2-0. The stands fell completely silent. Gizem buried her face in her hands. “They might not come back from this…”

In the 22nd minute, Yiğit scored a goal; he stole the ball in midfield, dribbled past two defenders, and struck a powerful shot into the corner: 2-1. The crowd erupted, chanting, “Yiğit! Yiğit!” After the kickoff, Mert quickly won the ball and passed to Baran. Baran sprinted down the right and sent it to Yiğit, who took a shot—the goalkeeper saved it, but the ball deflected. Mert struck it again, but it went over the bar.

In the 23rd minute, Emre won a corner. Yiğit curled the ball into the air, Kaan rose for a header, but it hit the post. The stands let out a collective, “Ohh!” Immediately after, 11-C launched another attack. A shot was taken, but Can tipped it just wide for another corner. With five minutes left and the score still 2-1, the tension was at its peak.

The match neared its final moments. 12-A was relentlessly attacking. Yiğit took the ball, dribbled forward, passed to Baran, who returned it. Yiğit took a shot—the goalkeeper saved it, but the ball rebounded back to him. He struck it again: 2-2! The stands went wild. Gizem shouted, “Come on, guys!” while Beyza clapped excitedly.

In the final minute, the clock hit the 30th minute. 11-C was trying to waste time, passing the ball around in their defensive half. But Yiğit stole it, dribbled past defenders, and went one-on-one with the goalkeeper. He took a powerful shot—the ball hit the post and bounced in: 3-2! The referee blew the whistle. The match was over. The stands exploded with cheers: “Goaaaallll!!!”

After scoring, Yiğit raised his arms and ran toward his class’s section in the stands, celebrating. His teammates gathered around him, some jumping on his back in excitement. Yiğit, breathless, looked up at the stands. His eyes met Gizem’s, and he grinned. Gizem’s heart fluttered. Her lips curled into a smile. What is this feeling? she wondered, unable to look away.