by Bali Rai
‘Are you OK, Abs?’ he asked, looking concerned.
I nodded. ‘I just got a bit hurt,’ I replied. ‘I can’t play on.’
‘Oh no!’ Mo said, looking really disappointed for me. He knew how much I’d wanted to do well.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Ian. ‘It’s just a bad knock. You’ll be fit for the next game, no problem.’
Dal, Lily and Chris came to see what was up and I told them. They looked really upset. Lily crouched down next to me.
‘It was that horrible Luke,’ she told me. ‘That gerbil-faced, skinny cat poo!’
Dal and Chris grinned at what Lily had said.
‘We have to score again,’ she added seriously. ‘I want to make sure that Luke goes home a loser.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Chris, who had stopped grinning. ‘We’re going to win this game and stuff their cheating down their throats!’
Ian got the team together and told them the news. Penny was going on in my place. She was going to play out on the left wing and Lily was going up front with Chris. Ian also told Corky that he was coming off.
‘We’re going to swap you with your sister, son,’ he told him.
For a moment Corky looked upset, but then he just nodded and said it was fine. Olivia smiled and then she punched her brother on the arm.
‘It’s OK, isn’t it?’ she asked.
Corky nodded. ‘Of course it is,’ he told her. ‘You’re my sister . . . just make sure you play your best.’
‘I will!’ she replied.
I stood up with the help of my brother and walked over to the subs area. Some of the parents were there and so were the rest of the squad. Ian and Wendy led a team talk, and then, as I stood helpless on the sidelines, the team walked back onto the pitch.
‘How are you going to win with even more girls?’ taunted Beggsy. ‘You were rubbish with three and now you’ve got five!’
‘You’re going out of the Cup,’ added Luke.
I looked across at Ant. He was still not playing, but he didn’t care. He smirked at me and then pulled a face.
‘Come on,’ I heard Lily shout to the other girls on the pitch. ‘Let’s show these smelly boys what a soccer ninja really is!’
I smiled and started a chant in support of my friends. Pretty soon all the parents joined in too.
‘COME ON, YOU REDS!’ we all sang.
Chapter 4
THE SECOND HALF kicked off with Langton on the ball. It wasn’t much fun watching from the sidelines, but I was doing my best to cheer my team on. The problem was that Langton kept hold of the ball for the first ten minutes and we hardly got a touch. And I was desperate to get back onto the pitch. As I couldn’t, I just grew more and more frustrated.
Beggsy and Luke were playing really well and then, to make it worse, Ant came on. He ran around teasing our players and I could see that my friends were getting more and more upset. At one point he ran past Lily and tried to pull her hair. Chris saw what he had tried to do and he complained to the referee. But the ref hadn’t seen it and he told Chris to go away.
‘REFEREE!’ shouted Chris’s dad, who was standing next to me.
‘That was awful,’ complained Jason’s mum.
I nodded in agreement.
‘Come on, Reds!’ yelled Ian. ‘Get the ball on the ground and play football! Pass and move . . .’
The Langton players kept kicking the ball up to their strikers. They weren’t even trying to play properly. All they were doing was lumping it. It was boring to watch because they didn’t really have any chances to score.
But then, about fifteen minutes into the half, Dal managed to get the ball and run with it. He skipped a challenge from Beggsy and passed the ball sideways to Byron.
Byron pretended that he was going to play it to Lily but, just as his marker went to intercept the ball, he switched and played it to Penny instead.
‘COME ON!’ I shouted.
Penny gathered the ball and ran down the line, taking on the player in front of her. When he tried to tackle her, she avoided him and crossed into the box. Chris ran towards the ball. I think he wanted to head it, but it was too low and he had to readjust his feet. He volleyed it with his right foot. The ball flew towards the goal like a missile and hit the post. The sound it made was cool!
THWANG!
The Langton defence were all over the place. They were running around like ants. Not one of them knew where the ball was. It landed at Lily’s feet. I thought she would shoot straight away, but she didn’t. Instead she stayed really calm and side-footed it to Olivia, who had appeared from nowhere. Olivia hit the ball with all her might and it flew into the net. Gurinder had no chance!
It was 2–1!
‘YESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!’ I shouted with glee.
I gave my brother a high-five as Wendy and the rest of our supporters cheered.
‘Calm down, Reds,’ Ian called out. ‘Concentrate . . .’
Now we were in the lead and there were only about ten minutes left to play. We had a chance to go through. A real chance! I was so excited. I wanted to jump up and down but my leg was still hurting. Two metres away from me, our substitutes were going crazy. Pete and Emma were doing a little dance and Ben was whooping in excitement.
The Langton players started arguing amongst themselves. Beggsy was blaming Luke, Luke was blaming Ant, and their defence was having a go at Gurinder. They were so upset that they forgot to take up their positions properly for the restart. Immediately we were back on the attack.
Penny started it by running right at the heart of their defence. She ran past two players and then passed to Chris. He turned one way and then the other before squaring to Olivia. As I looked on in amazement, Olivia dribbled past three of their players. She was one on one with Gurinder. He ran off his line to try and stop her from scoring but that was his big mistake! Olivia waited until he had closed her down and slid the ball to Chris. Chris tapped the ball into an empty net.
3–1!
This time I couldn’t stop myself from going crazy. I jumped up and down and nearly forgot about my injury. All around me our supporters were doing the same thing. Even Hayley and David from the TV company were joining in. There was no way we were going to lose now! Langton Blues were out of the Cup and it was the Reds who were going to make the next round.
‘RUSHIE . . . RUSHTON REDS!’ sang my brother and Chris’s dad together.
‘COME ON, YOU REDS!’ added Jason’s mum.
Even Ian, who usually tries to calm us down if we score, was going mad. It was 3–1 and we were in the semi-finals of the Cup!
When the final whistle blew, the Blues trudged off the pitch angrily. They were all still blaming each other for their defeat. But I knew better than that. They had lost because they’d not played as a team. They had thought that our team would be weak because of the girls. But they had been wrong. We had outplayed them and been the better team! And now we were through and they were out!
Olivia walked over to me, smiling her head off. ‘Told you!’ she said.
‘That was great play,’ I replied. ‘You’re really good . . .’
She shook her head. ‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘But I know I can play better than that.’
As Dal, Lily, Chris and Jason joined us, I heard Gurinder’s voice. He was shouting at someone. I turned around and saw that him and Ant were arguing.
‘Serves them right for leaving the Reds!’ said Dal.
‘Absolutely, hubby dearest,’ said Lily. She knew exactly how to wind Dal up!
‘Please don’t call me that!’ complained Dal.
‘Oh grow up,’ replied Lily. ‘Everyone knows that you love me really . . .’
Dal went bright red as usual and I started to laugh my head off. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t played in the second half – I was still really happy. All that mattered was that the team had won. We were in the semi-finals and I was determined to be ready for the match. There was no way I was going to miss it.
Chapter 5
/> Tuesday
ON TUESDAY AFTER school, Jason, Dal and Chris came with me to go and see our coach Steve at his house. He’d had a heart attack and been in hospital but was now getting better at home. Wendy had arranged for us to go, and she was meeting us there. My dad had finished work early and drove us there.
‘I’m going to pop off and do some shopping,’ he told us. ‘I’ll be back for you in an hour.’
‘OK, Dad,’ I replied.
We got out of the car and Dal walked forwards to knock on the door. Steve’s house was quite big and it had a bright-red door with the number 18 in white letters on it. Wendy’s car was already on the driveway. We were all a bit nervous about seeing Steve as we hadn’t seen him since he’d been taken ill. It was Wendy who opened the door.
‘Hey, lads!’ she said cheerily. ‘Come on in!’
She turned and led the way as we went in. Jason shut the door behind him. From the moment I walked in, I was amazed. Every wall had football stuff hanging from it. There were pictures and pennants and framed match-day programmes. I stopped to look at one. It was for a game between Liverpool and Manchester United. The date was 1977! That was ages ago.
‘Wow!’ I said. ‘Hey, Jason – check these out!’
Jason was looking at another programme. This one was also from 1977. It had a cup on the front of it and when I looked more closely I saw that it was the Champions League trophy! But it wasn’t called that then. It was called the European Cup. The programme was for the final and I couldn’t pronounce the name of the team who had played Liverpool. The name read ‘Borussia Moenchengladbach’. Work that one out!
‘How cool are these,’ replied Jason. ‘Never mind that they’re Liverpool programmes.’
‘I bet these would cost a fortune on eBay!’ I said.
‘I bet you can’t get them on eBay,’ he replied.
I shook my head. ‘You can get anything on eBay,’ I told him. ‘That’s what my dad always says. . .’
‘Can’t buy me on eBay,’ said Jason. ‘Or you, Abs!’
‘Oh don’t be so silly!’ I told him. ‘That’s not how I meant to say it. . .’
Jason grinned.
‘Come on, lads!’ said Wendy. ‘Steve’s looking forward to seeing you again.’
We stopped admiring the programmes and walked into the living room. Steve was sitting in a brown leather armchair. He had glasses on and a newspaper in his lap. His head was resting against the back of the chair. He was fast asleep!
‘But he’s—’ I began.
‘SSSSHHH!!!’ replied Wendy, putting a finger up to her lips. ‘He’s just having a nap. He’ll be awake again soon . . .’
‘Is he sleeping because of his heart attack?’ asked Dal.
Wendy nodded. ‘He’s been very, very poorly,’ she told us, ‘so he needs to get as much rest as he can.’
‘Maybe we shouldn’t have come,’ I suggested.
Wendy shook her head. ‘No, no, no . . .’ she told us with a big smile. ‘He really wanted you to, but the medicine he’s taking makes him feel tired, so occasionally he has to take a nap.’
Dal grinned. ‘Like Chris’s cat,’ he said. ‘That cat is always asleep . . .’
I didn’t even know that Chris had a cat. I turned, ready to ask him, but his face had dropped.
‘I haven’t got a cat,’ he insisted.
‘Yes, you have,’ replied Dal, looking a little bit confused. ‘It’s always sitting on the windowsill in the living room. I’ve seen it!’
Chris looked even more upset. ‘I haven’t got one!’ he repeated.
Wendy told him to calm down.
‘Look,’ she said to Dal, ‘if Chris says he hasn’t got a cat, then he hasn’t.’
Dal shook his head. ‘But he has got one!’ he replied. ‘Honest. I’ve seen it!’
‘Chris?’ asked Wendy.
Chris looked at us all and then he nodded. ‘I used to have a cat,’ he told us.
‘See!’ said Dal, getting excited.
‘SSSHHH!’ replied Wendy, pointing to Steve who was still asleep.
‘Sorry,’ said Dal.
Chris looked down at the floor. ‘My dad let it go out the front one night and it got run over,’ he revealed.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Wendy. ‘That’s horrible.’
Chris nodded. ‘I wasn’t at home when it happened,’ he continued. ‘I was staying at my Uncle Henry’s with my mum and my sister, and my dad didn’t tell us about it.’
‘Oh,’ said Jason. ‘So how did you know?’
Chris sort of half smiled. ‘He pretended that it had run away,’ he told us. ‘My mum was very upset because it was really her cat. So about three weeks later he went and bought her a new cat – a kitten.’
I looked at Dal and Jason. Both of them shrugged at me.
‘So what about the cat on the windowsill?’ asked Wendy.
‘Well, my mum said she didn’t want a new cat so the kitten had to go back. Then the next day my dad brought Barrington home,’ Chris told her.
‘Who’s Barrington?’ I asked, getting really confused.
‘The first cat,’ replied Chris.
‘But didn’t you say that Barrington was run over by a car?’ said Jason.
Chris nodded.
‘So how did your dad bring Barrington back then?’ asked Dal.
Chris shrugged. ‘He got him stuffed,’ he admitted.
‘Stuffed?’ repeated Wendy, looking really shocked.
‘Yes,’ replied Chris. ‘And my mum put it on the windowsill. After she’d stopped shouting at my dad which was for, like, three days.’
‘That’s gross!’ said Jason. ‘You’ve got a dead cat in your house! Ehhh!’
Chris shrugged. ‘I don’t like it being there,’ he told us. ‘But my mum was really close to Barrington and she wants to keep him and . . .’
‘That’s OK, Chris,’ added Wendy. ‘There’s no need to explain anything to us. It was your mum’s cat and she’s entitled to have it stuffed . . .’
But even Wendy was smiling as she said it. It was funny. And gross too!
Chris shrugged again. ‘My parents are a bit strange,’ he admitted.
‘All parents are strange,’ added Jason.
‘And embarrassing,’ I chipped in. ‘My dad does really smelly farts all the time . . .’
‘OK, lads, enough with the strange things that adults do – who wants a drink?’
We all put our hands up and followed Wendy into the kitchen. Steve’s house was really big. And every wall had football souvenirs on it. They were mostly about Liverpool FC so Dal and Chris were much more excited than me, but I still looked at them. And that was how I found it out. Steve had played proper, real soccer! For a major team!
As Wendy made us orange squash, I called the lads over to the picture I was looking at. There were two rows of players in the photograph, the front row on a bench so that you could see the heads of each player. Underneath the photo it said: ‘Reserve Division One Winners 1981–82 – Liverpool FC’. And standing in the middle of the back row, grinning out at us, was Steve!
‘HO MY GOD!’ said Chris.
‘NO WAY!’ said Jason. ‘NO WAY, NO WAY, NOOOO WAYYYY!’
Wendy laughed at us. ‘You really didn’t know, did you?’ she said.
‘You knew?’ I asked.
She grinned. ‘Yep!’ she replied.
‘But how come he never talks about it?’ I asked.
Wendy sighed. ‘Steve never went past that season as a pro,’ she told us. ‘He had a really bad injury and had to give up. He left and went into coaching instead . . .’
‘That’s just sooo crazy!’ I replied. ‘I can’t believe he played proper soccer!’
‘Football,’ corrected Jason. ‘Soccer is an American word.’
I looked at Wendy and grinned. ‘Potayto, potarto!’ I said before she could, but my American accent was rubbish.
It was a running joke – something Wendy had said when we’d first met her. I d
idn’t mind if it was called football or soccer. It was still the same to me – brilliant! But as Wendy had told us over and over again, most of the rest of the world called it soccer. And ‘soccer’ was actually a British word anyway. I repeated all of this to Jason, but he didn’t believe me or Wendy.
‘So why is the FA called that then?’ he asked. ‘It’s the Football Association.’
Someone coughed behind us. It was Steve. He was awake and he was smiling.
‘It’s called that because the words “football” and “soccer” are interchangeable,’ he said.
I looked at my friends. I didn’t have a clue what he meant. Wendy saw that we were all confused.
‘It means that you can use either word,’ she explained. ‘Both mean the same thing.’
Steve walked slowly towards us. ‘Hello, lads,’ he said. ‘So are you going to win the Cup for me then?’
Chapter 6
Saturday
OUR NEXT LEAGUE game didn’t excite me as much as the Cup. And that Saturday, we were going to find out who we would be playing in the semi-finals.
Our league match was against Rockwell Rangers, a team that we’d beaten earlier in the season. It had been our first win of the year. We were playing at home so I got there really early and changed into my kit. The coaches had given me a fitness all-clear after they’d seen me at training on Thursday, and I was well pleased I’d be playing again.
Once I got outside, I saw my dad standing chatting to Ian and Wendy. No one else had arrived yet. I ran over to the coaches.
‘Who have we got in the draw then?’ I asked, hoping that they’d tell me first because I was already there. But Ian shook his head.
‘Not until the rest get here, Abs,’ he told me. ‘It’s only fair.’
Fair? What did fair have to do with it? I was the first one there – surely I deserved to find out before the rest of the squad. But Ian refused to budge, so in the end I told him that I was going to practise my free kicks.
