One fine day, at high noon, in Uluru National Park in Australia, an extraordinary kangaroo was born. He himself didn't know for a long time that he was extraordinary, or even that he had come into the world. He didn't care whether the day was beautiful or not, because he sat in his mother's warm, safe pouch and didn't even think of poking the tip of his black nose out. But his mother had a feeling from the start that this time someone special would emerge from her pouch, and she was, one might say, a little surprised when it turned out that her son had two ears, two eyes, a pair of upper and lower limbs, a tail, and the number of other body parts that met kangaroo standards. But appearances don't tell the whole story.
Kangaroos in the national park lived a carefree life. As Klok, who didn't yet have that name, but a completely different one, kangaroo, quickly discovered, life consisted of eating, sleeping, and in the case of older kangaroos, breeding. This aspect didn't interest him at all at the time. However, from his first encounter, he was intrigued by a strange animal that sometimes appeared in the bush, made a lot of noise and commotion, and left a terrible mess behind. This animal was ranger John Johns, but the kangaroo, of course, didn't know it had that name.
One day, he decided to follow it. The animal didn't move as fast as a kangaroo, so tracking wasn't difficult, but it was a bit tiring. Over time, as part of broadening his horizons, he began to accompany other similar animals, slowly exploring areas of the park that had been completely unfamiliar to him until then. Until one day, he reached its borders.
Until then, the kangaroo had no idea the park had any boundaries; it seemed to him that it never ended, but he wasn't particularly worried that he was wrong. He jumped the fence without even thinking about what he was doing and found himself in a completely different world. While at first glance it didn't seem much different from the world he knew, that was only a facade. He immediately saw a whole herd of strange animals. In that moment, he knew he would never return to his bush. Without a second thought, he hopped (at the last minute) onto the bus carrying the Japanese tourists and rode and rode and rode until he fell asleep.
He woke up in a city. He didn't know what city it was, and when he did, he quickly forgot, because at the time it didn't seem important. Later, he paid more attention to such facts.
The Japanese tourists were staying in a beautiful, almost luxurious, hotel with a swimming pool (Kangaroo had never seen so much water at once, even in the rainy season) and tennis courts... He didn't know how it happened, but in an instant, he decided to become a tennis player.
His career took off at lightning speed, aided by his natural talent. He hit the ball with his tail more powerfully than all the members of the Australian Davis Cup team combined. He immediately became a crowd favorite and a great hope in the upcoming Australian Open, where he was to enter as a wild card. He had a chance to become the first indigenous Australian to win the event! However, procedural issues, as the saying goes, got in the way. He was disqualified. The rules stipulated that the ball must be hit with a racket held in the hand and made no mention of using the tail for this purpose.
At that moment, he almost burst into tears. He felt cheated. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to go home as just another kangaroo who had failed. Besides, he had become very fond of the sport, and it seemed unfair to him that he couldn't play it simply because he was a kangaroo. He thought for a long time until he came up with an idea.
He remembered his father once telling a story about a distant relative who had long ago emigrated to Europe. His uncle lived at the Prague Zoo. His father said kangaroos supposedly played football there!
Although he didn't know where Europe or Prague was, or how to play football (many players don't, and they're perfectly fine with it), he decided to consult the tennis community. He was immediately pointed out to him a Czech tennis player who had just finished his tournament and was about to return home. Klok went with him. The tennis player was very polite, explaining to the kangaroo that playing football didn't require a racket and that using his hands was strictly forbidden. But when they arrived, he said goodbye at the airport because he didn't live in Prague and still had a long journey ahead of him.
Klok was left alone in a large, completely unfamiliar city. But by then, he was no longer the lost, shy kangaroo from Uluru National Park, but a man of the world who knew how to navigate any situation. With the help of his "Kangaroo-Czech Phrasebook," he began asking the locals for directions. They were very polite and helpful, accustomed to exotic tourists. His first goal was to find the zoo and his uncle. He arrived relatively quickly and without incident, but he couldn't find him. When he asked where he could find him, he received conflicting information—some claimed his uncle had unfortunately died some time ago, others that he could be seen at the National Museum.
But he decided to go there another time. This time he wanted to get to the place where the kangaroos played football. This time he got a little lost. When they directed him to Prague Castle for the seventh time, he was about to give up. But that wasn't his style. It wasn't worthy of an athlete! Finally, tired and out of breath, he stood in front of the Bohemians Prague club headquarters just as it was getting dark. Only the cleaning lady and the president were left in the club. The cleaning lady was diligently carrying out her duties, the president, not at all. The words "diligently" and "duties" were probably not in his vocabulary. The cleaning lady wasn't entirely sure if she could stop the president from doing whatever he was doing, whatever that was, but she finally led Klok to his office.
"Good morning," Klok greeted politely, first in Czech (it was a phrase he'd been repeating all day, so he'd mastered it perfectly), then, just in case, in English and Kangaroo. Klok was slowly becoming quite a polyglot.
The president didn't react at all to Klok's "dobrý den," but when words in a foreign language reached his ears, he even smiled. The foreign guest heralded foreign capital.
"Guten morgen, guten morgen," unlike Klok, he had no linguistic talent and could only say those two words, incidentally with a terrible accent, so he was impossible to understand in any German-speaking country.
"I'd like to play in a club..." the kangaroo continued, encouraged.
"Yeah, in my club? Football?" the president confirmed.
"Yes. I'm a kangaroo. From Australia. I've heard kangaroos play football here, and I'd really like to...
" "Are you a KANGAROO?" The president rubbed his drunken eyes (as a mitigating factor, it should be noted that the only bottles around the president were empty Czech Pilsner bottles), turned on the light, and finally took a closer look at his guest. Then he burst out laughing. "Indeed, you're a kangaroo...
" "Yes, and I'd like to...
" "Play football.
" "Exactly.
" "Ha, ha, ha. Aren't kangaroos supposed to be boxing?" the president joked (recalling a certain cartoon).
"Aren't presidents supposed to be looking after their clubs and their welfare?" the kangaroo joked (who hadn't seen the cartoon). In this way, he won the president's heart, who immediately called the lawyers.
The two lawyers (and, of course, himself) were the only people at the club whose salaries the president regularly paid. It's clear why he paid himself; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to afford a Pilsner, but he paid the lawyers precisely so he wouldn't have to pay the others, especially the players, who had very high contracts and whose fulfillment would quickly lead to bankruptcy for the club. The lawyers quickly studied the regulations of the Czech-Moravian Football Association, but found no mention of kangaroos being banned from playing football. Just to be on the safe side, they also prepared a blank lawsuit addressed to FIFA, accusing the Czech authorities of discriminating against the player based on their species. However, this proved unnecessary, and the kangaroo was registered under the name Klokan, or Kangur, diminutively Klok.
"Some Brazilians or Africans play under even stranger names," the president noted.
So Klok began preparations with the Bohemians team for the spring season. Just as before, with tennis, this time too, it turned out he possessed extraordinary talent. He scored his most beautiful goals with a volley, with his tail (the rules didn't state that you couldn't shoot with your tail; they only mentioned hands, and Klok's hands were so tiny and weak that his teammates wouldn't even let him throw the ball out), or with his head. He was simply irreplaceable in the penalty area during set pieces. As experts noted, "despite his less-than-ideal physical condition, he had an excellent jump to the ball," whatever that meant. During a training camp in warm countries—which weren't so warm after all, Klok thought, recalling a summer in the bush—he scored eighteen goals in four friendlies, which even attracted the interest of a certain Russian billionaire, but of course, Klok was a kangaroo and wanted to play for the Kangaroos.
The first friendly match he and his team were scheduled to play at home in Dolíček began with an unpleasant incident, as a group of fans booed him during the presentation. Klok was very upset, but the president reassured him:
"Don't worry about those racists. It's because you're black."
To be precise, Klok only had a black face, but well, some people were bothered by that too. Klok silenced the ill-mannered fans by scoring a few goals. At the next opportunity, they displayed a banner reading "Klok for president."
The first match was imminent. But Klok wasn't nervous; on the contrary, he couldn't wait. When he walked out onto the pitch with his teammates, he was practically jumping with anticipation. But an unpleasant surprise awaited him. The referee questioned the "regulations" of his uniform. Although Klok wore a brand new, clean green shirt with the club's crest and a green kangaroo on the chest, tucked into his shorts, the referee threatened to ban him from playing.
"According to the regulations, you can't play without shin guards, and certainly not without shoes.
Somehow, they fitted Klok with shin guards, and put on leg warmers (and a tail, just in case), but the shoes were a problem. There weren't any such large football boots in all of Prague. The sad kangaroo watched his first match from the stands.
Fortunately, the president was resourceful when the situation demanded it. A few days later, he delivered cleats the size of a kayak to Klok for training.
"Custom-made. Try them on. "
The shoes fit like a glove.
"They're light, comfortable, and provide comfort to the foot," the president praised. "Made of natural kangaroo leather for optimal fit and the best possible contact with the ball..." Or so they wrote in the prospectus... "
Klok's ears twitched.
"What did you say, Mr. President?
" "Light, comfortable..."
"And then?"
"Made of natural... kangaroo leather... Oh dear... Sorry, Kloku, don't worry, I can get you some plastic boots..."
But it was too late to apologize and rectify the mistake. Kloku jumped the training field fence in one bound, even though it was probably five times higher than the Uluru National Park fence, and that's how many sightings there were of him in "Dolíček" and Prague. He didn't even have time to visit his uncle, who was stuffed and gathering dust in a display case at the National Museum.
He returned to the bush. He abandoned his dreams of sport and stayed away from ranger John Johns and his friends. He began to live the quiet life of a proper kangaroo, occupied only with eating, sleeping, and breeding (as a world-famous kangaroo, he was extremely popular with female kangaroos). He was a good and caring father; above all, he forbade his children from venturing deep into the bush. After all, even in the national park, they could be caught by a poacher and end up as football boots. Or they'd come up with the foolish idea of pursuing a sports career...
***
Bohemians Prague has been struggling with serious financial problems for some time now. The Czech-Moravian Football Association refused to issue Bohemka a license to play in the second league in the spring round, which could spell the end of this distinguished club, whose colors included Antonín Panenka. This has nothing to do with this story, but I feel sorry for the Klokans. Even the author, a loyal Slavia fan who is usually indifferent to the problems of other clubs...
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