The Opportunity Index

4Horses and Sparrows

I WATCHED AS THE BALL was kicked high into the air. It was late summer, so although it was early, the setting sun meant the floodlights on the football pitch (soccer field) were lit, silhouetting the ball against the glaring light. There must have been about three or four of us. We weren't playing a match, just passing the ball to one another to see who had the best control. In that moment of watching the ball create an arc in the sky, I was happy, not thinking about the past or the future, not really thinking at all. Which is why I didn't see them coming.

A punch in the stomach doubled me over and I wheezed to the ground; for a moment, everything was still, almost serene. Then the pain crawled up my back like a spider, entered my brain, then slid down to my front, where it finally registered. Then the kicks started, raining down on me. With no breath, all I could do was curl into a ball. It seemed to last forever, although it was probably only a matter of seconds and then it stopped. “Gavin, Gavin … are you OK? Get up now… .” One of the playscheme teachers had broken things up and then helped me get to my feet. Funded by local councils, typically in inner-city areas of London, playschemes were designed to provide activities for children during school holidays. They were run by playscheme leaders, or “teachers” as we called them.

As I straightened up, I saw three boys staring at me; the playscheme teacher was standing between us. The two other boys I was ...