A perfectly SQUARE football?

There it sat, all dusty in the toyshop, on the middle shelf, at the end of a line of footballs of all types. 

It was lonely and forlorn and so different to all of the other footballs which sat proudly waiting for the little boys who would come in and each choose his favourite type of football to buy. 

The little square football felt that he could just tell which type of boy would choose which style of ball; just by the way they looked, walked and spoke. They would walk along the row of balls, touching them, bouncing them and sometimes giving them a little kick. Walking past the round Soccer balls, the egg shaped Rugby League balls, the melon shaped Aussie Rules balls, and one would think that any ball would do! Then came that little dive with which they would capture THEIR code of ball. Just as if it would go ‘pop’ and escape from them. 

Just once in a while someone, (usually a Mum), would pick up the square football with a laugh and show it to a Dad, who in turn would shake a grown up head in disbelief. With each batch of eager little boys that came in, the hopes of the little square football would rise just a little. "Take Me, he would cry!” …Silently.

Once he heard the old man who owned the shop explain that HE was a curiosity, whatever that meant. Anyway, it sounded important. And so his price went down and down.

On the day he came into the shop, gleaming and resplendent behind his $25 ticket, he had high hopes for his future and just knew that he was meant to go to the best little boy in the world. He didn't know what would happen then, but he had heard the leather workers, who had sewn him and his brothers so carefully, talking about the qualities of a football. He was really and truly well made. The finest leather; hand finished stitching; an imported bladder and to top it off, he was signed by no less than three champion footballers, each from a different code. It was all very clear to him! No excited little boy was EVER going to buy him. The other footballs were quick to point this out to him. I mean, he was an old timer. All of the other footballs, as soon as they were brought out of the storeroom to replace their just-sold brothers, would stare and snigger. He really could not help becoming sadder and sadder as his price became lower and lower. I mean just $10 for a premium grade football, never yet kicked, and signed by the Stars too!

One day, a slow tap tapping boy came in to the sports store, and took forever to find his way to the football shelf. The square football could only manage to raise one feeble "take me" and just sat and watched.

The boy with the white stick worked his way quietly along the row. With the stick hung from its loop on his arm, he picked up each ball as he came to it. He gave each ball a little toss and catch. Each ball was replaced on the shelf and was caught by the little raised part on the front of the shelf which was there to stop them rolling off. That is, until he came to the soccer ball. Ah! Yes, a soccer fan thought the wise little square football, I might have known. The soccer ball - well, it got a little bounce too! Some bounce, it hit his toe and rolled off down the aisle. Ten minutes of tap tap scrape was how long it took the patient little blind boy to find that soccer ball. Then like the tidy boy he was, he returned the round ball to the shelf and then and THEN he picked up the square football! The little square football felt the curiosity in the warm hands of the little boy who felt him all over with mounting excitement. I mean all over, he felt the lacing with nimble fingers, he traced the sewn seams with eager fingernails. Sensitive fingertips felt the raised paint of the signed names of the stars, and time after time returned to the sharp squareness of the corners. Testing the shiny smoothness of the fine leather against his cheek, he then tried a little bounce.

What bounce?

The square football merely jiggled from corner to corner as it plopped such a loud flop onto the floor right there next to his feet. He KNEW that it was right beside his feet, he had heard it Plllopp! Another little bounce, same thing, Plop!! He tried a little kick! Slither, slither, thump! He knew right where it was. An almighty kick and it swished across the wooden floor and fetched up with a Thump at the counter at the front of the shop. The little boy gave a squeak and such a hoot of laughter that the Shopkeeper came running. He found the boy fumbling his hand on the shelf, feeling for the price tag, and clutching the ball like a prize.

With ticket, stick and ball in one hand, he had the other hand in his pocket tightly clutching the 10-dollar note that Grandfather had given him for his birthday.

He said, "How much is it Mister?"

"How much for the SQUARE FOOTBALL?"

"Why young man, that is a very well made ball, the finest leather, none of this new new-fangled plastic, comes from a famous factory. 

Why I am afraid that I must charge you $5 for that fine ball."

"I'll take it whispered the boy."

"And can you put it in one of those bags with the name of your shop on it like my friend told me about and can I have one of those $5 Chess sets that you advertise on the radio for my Grandad?"

"He wants to teach me how to play. 

Chess I mean, and football."