Is An Own Goal Bad?

by Helena Pielichaty

  I begin this part once upon a time at eight-o-ten on Saturday 2 March. I leapt out of bed, fully dressed as a Parsnip, put on my trainers, ran to the bathroom for a wee and a wash and then went downstairs in a highly unrushed manner for breakfast.

  At the table were Daisy and my granny. Granny had come all the way from Dundeeland to watch us play the Misslecott Goldstars that morning. When Daisy told her that we had to win by several goals and Furnston had to lose to Greenbow by not so many goals so that we could get to the final of the Nettie Honeyball Cup, she booked her train ticket straight away and said she wouldn’t miss this match for the world.

  “Well done,” Granny said to me as I arrived and took my place round the cereal boxes we had set out the night before. “Five minutes early.”

  “Och aye the noo!” I replied.

  “So you’re all set?”

  “I am. I don’t know about my twin.”

  “I am.” Daisy nodded. “But I feel nervous.”

  “Good!” Granny said, dipping her Tetley tea bag in and out of her mug. “So you should. Ah! Here come the boys.”

  Darwin and Declan clattered down the stairs, making Sedge jump up in excitement and Pickle dart under my chair. “Two-four-six-eight, who do we appreciate…” they called, waving Declan’s knitted red and white scarves in the air.

  “Not the King, not the Queen, but the Parsnips football team!” Granny laughed, getting out her Dundee FC scarf.

  A few minutes later we were joined for toast and jam by our beloved parents, and at nine-o-ten precisely there was a tooting outside our windmill home – the minibus had arrived!

  “My treat,” Granny said.

  “That’s so kind of you,” Mother replied – and she meant it, because Chutney’s heating was not working and the morning was not a fine one.

  At nine-o-fifty we arrived at the Misslecott Goldstars ground. “Do you think they’ll be wearing gold stars?” I asked Daisy as Granny paid the taxi driver, who was called Rajinder and supported Derby County. (So does my future husband, Callum Kirton, by the way.)

  “I don’t know,” Daisy said, taking deep breaths.

  As we walked across the car park towards the Goldstars playing field I felt my tummy swishing with Coco Pops and pride. Lots of players had brought their mums and dads with them, person reading this, but no one had twin brothers and a Scottish granny too. Ha!

  I didn’t brag about it, though. I had to concentrate. Hannah gathered us all round for the team talk. “Right, girls. No speeches from Katie or me today, we just want you to go out there and enjoy yourselves. OK?”

  “OK!” we all chorused.

  “Wicked! Right, Eve … you begin up front … Gemma … central midfield. Amy, right wing, and Dylan…” Hannah paused and nodded towards me in a solemn manner. “You know what to do?”

  I nodded.

  I did know, because ever since what I call “the incredible incident in the sports hall” my life as a footballer has become full of joy and happiness. What happened was this. The following week at training, Hannah and Katie took Daisy and me to one side and asked us what feelings we had when we played. I told them about my fuzzy head and they nodded. “What we’ll do is just give you a few instructions at a time from now on,” they said, “and if you get confused by anything – anything at all – just let us know.”

  And that’s what I do.

  “So tell me where you are going to stand,” Hannah now said to me.

  “I am going to stand on the opposite side from Amy,” I said in a proud way.

  “And what are you going to do?”

  “I am going to play the wing game.”

  “Good girl!” Katie beamed. “Off you go.”

  I ran to take up my position on the correct side of the pitch.

  Then the referee blew her whistle and we began the match. The crowd cheered but I blocked them out. I admit I had a quick peepo at the Goldstars to see if they were wearing gold stars, but they weren’t. They were wearing gold-coloured tops and green shorts but nothing star-shaped.

  Apart from that I kept my eye on where the ball was all the time, while staying in the channel inside the touchline. In case you don’t know, person reading this, the channel is like a cycle path for footballers called McNeil. It is what I used to call a toothpaste track but is really the bit parallel to the touchline. The touchline. I am highly expert on football words now, because Megan and Petra spend whole lunchtimes at school teaching them to me. They have been kind and helpful, like Hannah and Katie. All the team has.

  It makes Mum splendidly joyous. She doesn’t think football is too competitive any more. In fact she tells everyone how playing sport is probably the best thing that could have happened for our co-ordination and self-confidence. She says it just goes to show kids don’t need tests to improve their skills; they just need kindness and patience. All in all, Daisy revealing our muddledness that day turned out to be a highly good thing.

  Anyway, Megan had a goal kick. She kicked the ball hard and low towards Petra on her left, who immediately passed it to me because she could see I was free and that was the rule. As soon as the ball came to me, I put my foot on top of it to stop it going out, then ran with it along the channel, to just past the halfway line. Nobody shouted “Man on” and I couldn’t see any alien boots near by, so I kept going, then slowed down enough to look round, saw Jenny-Jane was unmarked and passed the ball to her using the inside of my foot. That was my bit done. It is called the wing game. I am quite the expert on the wing game. That’s because I have practised it three million seven hundred times.

  After I had passed, I watched, but in a highly alert way because I have to be prepared for if we lose possession (that means if the other team gets it off us, person reading this) and the ball comes back towards me.

  It didn’t, though. Jenny-Jane was too tough! She drizzle-drazzled the ball right past one defender and across towards the box, but then, instead of passing to Eve, who was calling for it, Jenny-Jane tried to run round a second defender – but this one was a big girl and she blocked Jenny-Jane’s shot and the ball went out for a throw-in.

  Jenny-Jane looked a bit skulky, but fell back into position while Nika took the throw-in. The ball landed right at Jenny-Jane’s feet and this time she passed immediately to Eve, who was on the edge of the box. Eve tapped it neatly to Gemma, who splunked it into the back of the net. Goal! One–nil to us! Then I did my aeroplane, because I’m still allowed to do those when we score, as long as I stay on the pitch.

  After I’d played the wing game loads more, Hannah called me off to swap with Tabinda. Tabinda gave me a high five as she came on and I high-fived her back. “Nice one,” she told me.

  “Thank you,” I said, my head growing bigger by the second. I grinned and put my thumbs up at my beloved family and they clapped me and swayed from side to side with their scarves outstretched. I had a swiggle of water and went for a chat with Lucy, who hadn’t played yet.

  “You were amazing,” she told me.

  “I know,” I said. “I’m highly awesome.”

  At half-time it was still one–nil.

  “Come on, you guys up front. This lot are pants! We need more goals!” Megan said as we gathered round our pile of bags and bottles.

  “No? Do we really?” Eve replied.

  “Yeah. That’s how you win, apparently,” Lucy added.

  “Well, I wish someone had told me!” Eve said, slapping her forehead.

  I laughed then, because my teamies are so funny sometimes, but I didn’t laugh so much that I got hiccups or that they’d stare at me.

  Hannah strolled across to us. “Well, folks, my spies tell me that in the other match Greenbow are winning one–nil.”

  “One–nil! Dream score! Yes!” Megan said and punched the air.

  “So just keep doing what you’re doing and the goals will come. Remember to move to the ball and be on your toes, ready to react all the time. Misslecott aren’t particularly skilful but they’ve got some big
players…”

  “No kidding!” Katie said to Hannah. “That number 31 could fit Daisy in her pocket!”

  “She’d have to catch me first!” Daisy said.

  “That’s the spirit!” Hannah said, ruffling Daisy’s hair. “Right … let’s confuse the opposition and have both twins on the wings at the same time… Dylan left, Daisy right…”

  “Jolly good!” I said and gave Daisy a hug.

  I think my teamies are very good listeners, because almost as soon as the referee blew his whistle Eve scored a goal. Her mum and brothers were jumping up and cheering so much, although not quite as much as my beloved parents, brothers and granny. McNeils are highly excellent cheerers.

  Everything felt so tense and exciting. My tummy bubbled as if it were Christmas Eve and Halloween at the same time. That was until the defender who was marking Daisy barged into her and sent her flying. I let out an angry yell and forgot all about staying in position and pelted straight across the field. Katie was already helping Daisy hobble off. I was breathing very hard and had to count to ten fast. “Do that again and I’ll be very cross!” I told the girl, who had a mean look on her face. Well, I think she did. She was so tall I could only see as far as her hairy nostrils.

  “Ooooh, I’m scared.” The girl smirked.

  “You will be,” a voice next to me said. I turned – and there was my friend Holly, squaring up to the big girl. Holly always leaps to our defence now if anybody has a go at us in matches. She’s been awfully kind since that time in the sports hall.

  “Come on, then,” the girl dared Holly. My heart was pounding so much. This never happens in Malory Towers!

  “All right! All right!” the referee said, pushing them apart. “Time out!”

  The Goldstars coach came running up then and swapped the big girl over for a medium-sized one with a kinder face, and the referee gave us a direct free kick – but I wouldn’t budge until I knew Daisy was OK. Mum, Dad and Granny were already bending over her, checking her ankle.

  “Keep playing, Dylan,” Daisy called to me. “I’m fine.”

  “Come on, Dylan,” Gemma said, putting her arm round my shoulder and leading me away. “Let’s score another one. For Daisy.”

  And that’s what we did! Nika took the free kick. It looped above all the Goldstars players’ heads, bounced off the crossbar and into Tabinda, who chested it down, aimed and shot straight at the goalie. The goalie tried to kick it away, but she messed up and it only went as far as Gemma. Ping! Three–nil!

  That was the final score. As soon as we had hip-hip-hoorayed I dashed over to my twin to see how she was. Her face was crest-dropped. “Are you still so severely injured?” I asked her.

  “No. It’s just that we’re out of the cup. I heard Katie tell Hannah that Furnston drew one-all with Greenbow so they’re through to the final by one point.”

  “Oh.” I sighed. But then I remembered what Eve had said at training about looking on the bright side. “Well, at least we don’t have to write up any more reports.”

  “We haven’t done one yet!” Daisy laughed.

  “That’s true.” I smiled, remembering that even our last one hadn’t been used, because when Daisy had gone to get it from her bag to show Megan, she discovered she had put in one of Darwin’s knitting patterns by mistake. Worse, when we got home we found out Mum had seen the report on the table and used it in a collage.

  “I give up,” Daisy had said.

  The news that we were out of the cup meant everybody looked crest-dropped. “Never mind, girls. We came second. And there’s always next year,” Hannah told us.

  “I suppose,” Megan said. She sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to concentrate on the league.”

  “As they say.” Katie laughed.

  “Well, before you all disappear, there’s one more piece of business to attend to,” Hannah announced and began flummaging in her sports bag.

  “Now,” she said, pulling out the golden globey, “how to decide? You were all tremendous, but two of you were especially outstanding. Our twins on the wings, Dylan and Daisy…” Daisy’s jaw dropped and I did a little squeal and stopped breathing. We’d never won the golden globey before!

  “Yay!” Megan said, giving us a clap.

  “But I’ve only got one trophy,” Hannah said, her voice pretending to be all sad.

  “They can share it. They’re twins; they’re used to that,” Tabinda said.

  “No way!” Hannah declared and flummaged in her bag again. “Of course they’re not sharing! They deserve a trophy each!”

  She had been teasing us! Oh! When she presented us with the golden globeys I had wet eyes and Mum and Dad and Granny had wet eyes, and Darwin had wet eyes and Declan didn’t but he had pleased eyes, and Daisy had dry eyes but they were so wide they looked like blue marbles.

  And that’s how the cup run ended.

  Final Whistle

  Well, person reading this, we hope you enjoyed hearing about our adventures in the Nettie Honeyball Cup run. We were especially pleased we won a golden globey each because it meant we had a happy ending. Mrs Enid Blyton would have approved of that!

  The Grove Belles won the cup in the end. They beat Furnston Diamonds four—one. We think it is a shame because the Grove Belles have won the Nettie Honeyball Cup every year since it began in 2002. They should give someone else a go, if you want our opinion.

  Next, Holly is going to tell you about what happened at the end of our first season and the big presentation evening. She is a sensible person, so we know her story will not be upside-down or in Elvish. It will be highly interesting and splendid, though.

  Well, goodbye! Goodbye from Dylan and Daisy, Darwin and Declan, Luna and Jim. Goodbye from our beloved Scottish granny. Goodbye from Sedge, Pickle and Beetroot and our camper van, Chutney.

  Goodbye till next time. We’ll meet you again soon.

  Lots of love

  Dylan and Daisy McNeil

  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  The Girls FC series

  Do Goalkeepers Wear Tiaras?

  Can Ponies Take Penalties?

  Are All Brothers Foul?

  Is An Own Goal Bad?

  Who Ate All The Pies?

  What’s Ukrainian For Football?

  So What If I Hog the Ball?

  Can’t I Just Kick It?

  We’re the Dream Team, Right?

  Has Anyone Seen our Striker?

  Do Shinpads Come in Pink?

  Helena Pielichaty (pronounced Pierre-li-hatty) has written numerous books for children, including Simone’s Letters, which was nominated for the Carnegie Medal, and the popular After School Club series. A long-standing Huddersfield Town supporter, there are few who could write with as much enthusiasm about girls’ football. A local girls’ under 11s team helps with the inspiration and tactical know-how, but Helena has been an avid fan of women’s football for many years. It clearly runs in the family: her aunt was in a women’s team in the 1950s and her daughter has been playing since she was ten (she is now twenty-four!). Helena lives in Nottinghamshire with her husband and has two grown-up children.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.

  First published 2009 by Walker Books Ltd

  87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ

  Text © 2009 Helena Pielichaty

  Cover illustration © 2009 Sonia Leong

  The right of Helena Pielichaty to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, el
ectronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:

  a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978-1-4063-4260-4 (ePub)

  www.walker.co.uk