Are All Brothers Foul?

by Helena Pielichaty

  “Oh, I thought you’d never ask!” Eve joked, and led us away. By the time we’d completed a full circuit, Nika and Tabinda had arrived, and halfway round the second lap the twins, Daisy and Dylan, joined in. The barmy army was complete!

  We’d all been fairly quiet at training mid-week; I guess because we were getting used to each other again after the summer break, but now the chatter rose and dipped and rose again as we jogged. I found out all about Holly’s holiday in Florida and Nika’s stay with her grandparents near Lviv and Eve’s birthday party at Alton Towers. Megan was the only one who talked football. “I wish that friendly hadn’t been cancelled,” she confided. “We could have done with the run-out before facing that lot, especially as we’ve only had one training session this season.”

  “I know,” I agreed, glancing across to the far side of the pitch where the Grove Belles, last season’s cup and league winners, had arrived and were warming up. Just seeing them, uniformly tall and strong in their all-white kit, sent shivers through you. They all looked – well, it sounds silly, but – so professional. I glanced over my shoulder. Holly and Amy had already dropped out, and Dylan and Daisy, the two youngest in the squad, were only walking. It was then I knew we would lose today. If we couldn’t even get through the warm-ups, we had no chance. I just hoped it wouldn’t be a massacre.

  Time flew. Katie did some short drills with us, and before I knew it we were gathered in a huddle, ready for kick-off. I was tingling all over now, despite my gloomy prediction. I linked arms with Nika and Holly as we waited for Hannah to give us our final instructions. “OK, it’s a big day for us,” she began, “but just remember everything we talked about in training. Mark up in defence. Midfield, I want you helping at the back when needs be. This lot will put pressure on you from the second the ref blows his whistle. And remember, if in doubt…”

  “Kick it out,” we chorused. Clearing the ball to safety was one of the first things Hannah had taught us.

  “Exactly. OK, everyone gets a game. If you’re not on first half, you play second half, all right? So, Meggo starts in goal and is captain; Hols and Lucy in defence, with Hols on the left and Lucy on the right.” Holly and I smiled at each other. We enjoyed playing together at the back. “… Dayz left midfield, Dyl right midfield…” She paused to point out left to Daisy and right to Dylan, then continued, “Gemma central midfield, and Nika as lone striker.”

  Nika grinned. I think she liked the idea of being the lone striker.

  “OK, let’s do this, Parsnips!” Hannah whooped.

  The circle broke up and there was a cheer from the crowd as we took up our positions. I glanced round and saw my dad and Harry standing among the other parents. Dad grinned and stuck his thumbs in the air, but Harry still looked fed up. Never mind, I thought. I had a game to play.

  The Grove Belles won the toss and chose to play towards the bottle-bank end first. We kicked off and Gemma tapped it to Daisy, who passed neatly enough towards Dylan – but the Belles’ number 11 intercepted it and nipped the ball away, dribbling unchallenged before passing to their number 7, who was already on the edge of the box. I remembered her from the summer tournament; she was called Becky, I think, and was a pretty smart player – but a bit of a cheat, too. If you went anywhere near her she’d fall over, hoping for a free kick. Holly was meant to be marking her, but she was too slow and the Belles star forward simply swerved round her and had a shot which flew just wide.

  Megan took the goal kick and hoofed the ball beyond the halfway line, aiming for Gemma, but it bounced too high and two of the Belles leapt either side of her, barging her out of play and leaving the ball free for the ever-ready Becky to pounce, turn and run with it. From then on we were under siege.

  I tried my best to defend the goal, but no matter what I did, nothing seemed to work. I man-marked their number 8, but they simply used other players and scored their first goal with a simple tap-in close to the line.

  I then tried protecting Megan by standing near the goal line during the corners, but so did Holly, the twins and Gemma, so we were all bunched up and kept colliding with each other. Megan had to keep shouting at us to get out of her way. “I can’t see a thing, people!”

  Even with all of us crowding the goalmouth, the Belles found a gap. They scored their second one by slicing the ball through Holly’s legs, and the third from a quick corner that looped above all our heads only to be headed in by Becky.

  Whenever I did manage to gain possession I did what Hannah had told us to do and immediately kicked the ball out. I heard Dad shout “Well done, Lucy!” a few times, but the trouble was I gave away so many throw-ins and corners by kicking it out that the Belles were always at an advantage and we never got a chance to break forward.

  We were losing four–nil at half-time and Becky had a hat-trick. She walked off, high-fiving her team-mates.

  “Keep your heads up, girls,” Katie said as we trooped off the pitch. “You’re not doing too badly.”

  I guessed not, but it felt like we were.

  I glanced round at everyone. The twins were bickering, Gemma and Nika were leaning dejectedly against each other and Holly was bent double, out of breath and bright red.

  “Well, that was fun – not!” Megan stated as everyone grouped together round the coats and bags. “We’re giving it to them on a plate again, just like in the tournament.” We’d lost seven–one that time.

  Hannah clapped her hands and looked stern. “Meggo! No negative talk, please! You’re all a bit rusty after the holidays, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, you guys; don’t stress,” Amy said, bending to flick a blade of grass from her new boots. “It’s only a game, remember.”

  Megan began choking on her water, and I had to turn away and stare at the hedge behind me. Only a game. ONLY! Everyone knew there was no such thing as only a game.

  I couldn’t help feeling disappointed when Amy was put on in my place. I knew Hannah and Katie wanted everyone to have a turn, and that was fair enough, but Amy… I just knew she’d be more bothered about not getting her boots dirty than about even trying to defend.

  I watched the second half from the touchline with Dad and Harry. Harry ignored both of us and spent his time texting. I didn’t blame him. We were even worse this half and I was totally right about Amy. She just kept flinching and turning away if the play came anywhere near her. It drove me potty! Jenny-Jane, on for Gemma, was the opposite: she got way too stuck in, hacking away at any Belles ankle she could find, whether the player had the ball or not – so she was always being warned about fouling. That meant as well as throw-ins and corners we were defending from free kicks now. Dad chuckled at her, though. “That’s the spirit, flower,” he kept saying.

  Final score: nine–nil. Not a full-scale massacre, but bad enough.

  Hannah called us all together. “OK, gather round. Lucy! Hols! Hursty! Tabs! Over here!”

  I left Dad and Harry and ambled across to join the team.

  “Right, that’s them out of the way. We’ll start the season properly next week, OK?”

  I suppose that was one way of looking at it.

  “Nine! They put nine goals past me!” Megan wailed. “I need a hug!”

  “I’ll hug you!” Eve declared, throwing her arms round her. “Come here, babe! Come to Momma!”

  “Me, too! I’ll hug you, Megan,” Tabinda said, and wrapped her arms round Megan and Eve.

  “Hey! She’s my bezzie!” Petra protested and lunged at them. Soon we were all piling on top of Megan, giggling our heads off.

  “Can’t breathe! Can’t breathe!” Megan squawked from somewhere beneath the bundle.

  Hannah and Katie cracked up, too. “What are they like?” Hannah asked Katie.

  “Nutters, the lot of them,” Katie replied.

  “When you clowns have finished, there’s one piece of business to do before you go,” Hannah told us as we rolled about on the grass. From her sports bag, she pulled out a bronze-coloured trophy. It had a rectangular s
tumpy base with a tiny football perched on top of it. “I did ask for one with a parsnip on, but they were out of stock!” Hannah joked. “Anyway, I am delighted to say that the first ever Parsnip of the Match award goes to…” She paused and let her eyes roam around the squad until they settled on me. “Lucy Skidmore, for her sterling defending. Well done, mush!”

  She held out the trophy for me and I felt my cheeks burn. “Me?” I asked, feeling embarrassed.

  “Yes, you!” Hannah nodded. “You, for your awareness on the pitch and for pegging back their number 8 so effectively.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled as everyone clapped.

  MATCH THREE

  Teams:

  Parrs U11s (Parsnips) v.

  Hixton Lees Juniors

  Date & venue:

  Saturday 15 September

  at Lornton FC, Low Road,

  Lornton

  (home match)

  Kick-off:

  10.30

  Attendance:

  19

  3

  The following Saturday I dressed, did my sock thing, went downstairs, had breakfast, filled my water bottle, packed my stuff and chatted to Mum about her plans for the day – schoolwork and housework; not very thrilling. At least I think that’s what she said. If I’m honest, I was only half-listening, because I was even more excited about playing this week than I had been the week before. It’s the pits knowing you’re going to lose from the start, like I knew we would against the Belles, but Hixton Lees are nowhere near in the same league as the Belles (well, they are in the same actual league, but you know what I mean). I’d checked out their points from last season on the website and they’d come bottom! It wasn’t that I thought we’d beat them just because of that, but it meant the match would be more even.

  The excitement turned to stress when at ten to ten Harry was still in bed and Dad hadn’t arrived. I knew why Harry was late – Mum hadn’t paid him to get up this time – but I didn’t know why Dad was. “You don’t think he’s been in a crash, do you?” I asked Mum.

  Mum shook her head and stirred her coffee. “Of course not! He’ll be here any minute.”

  “And pleeeeease will you get Harry up for me? He keeps telling me to get lost when I knock. I’m going to miss all the warm-ups at this rate.”

  Mum sighed, set her cup down on the worktop and nodded. “I’ll try,” she said, “though whether I’ll get much joy remains to be seen.”

  Dad arrived just after Mum had gone upstairs. “Roadworks,” he snapped before I’d even had a chance to ask. He then immediately returned to the car to wait. It was another five minutes before Harry appeared, hair all over the place, scowling and silent. He slid into the front seat and pulled his seatbelt on without saying a thing. Dad didn’t say anything either, so it was up to me to fill the gaps. It was either that or sit in silence and I couldn’t bear that.

  By the time we arrived at the ground I was all talked out. I was also late – well, my version of late, not Daisy and Dylan McNeil’s version of late. I only had ten minutes till kick-off, so this time I didn’t wait for Dad when he parked up. I just checked there were no cars behind me, jumped out, yelled “See you in a bit!” and pelted across to the field.

  The team were just finishing shooting practice. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I panted, feeling deflated when they stopped and began gathering all the balls up the second I arrived.

  “Don’t worry, Lucy; you’re here now.” Hannah smiled.

  “Put this on,” Katie said, and handed me a yellow tabard. “Hixton are in red, too.”

  I nodded, pulling the tabard over my head, hoping I’d be chosen to start the match – but I wasn’t. My heart sank as Hannah fired off the list: Megan in goal, Petra and Jenny-Jane at the back, with Nika in the central midfield position assisted by Gemma on the left and Daisy on the right. Amy was up front for some reason; Hannah usually played her at the back with us. “OK, we’re going to be rotating you this week, so you’ll all be on for only about fifteen minutes at a time until your fitness levels are up.”

  I watched with envy as my team took up their positions. I pulled my fleece on over my kit and gave my dad a quick smile as he and Harry came to stand near by. Dad, who seemed a bit more relaxed now, winked at me, but Harry just looked miserable.

  Hixton kicked off. Their midfielder was a small girl with dark hair and glasses. She tapped the ball to her partner on the right, who unintentionally kicked it straight at Nika. The ball bounced off Nika’s knees, and then there was a tussle between her and their number 9. Number 9 won the ball, ran with it for a couple of metres, saw Jenny-Jane bearing down on her and kicked the ball into touch, even though she had someone free in the middle. Jenny-Jane has that effect on people! Jenny-Jane went to take the throw-in, twisting one way, then the other, waiting for someone to break free. “Help her out, one of you!” Katie yelled.

  Gemma ran forward and called for the ball. Jenny-Jane lobbed it at her and she cushioned it on her thigh, bringing it down and under control so smoothly, so swiftly, in a way she hadn’t been allowed to by the Belles last week. Oh, she was so good!

  “Go Gemma Hurst!” Eve shouted as Gemma swerved round one of the Hixton defenders and squared it to Daisy. I closed one eye then, because you never knew what Daisy would do, but actually she simply passed back to Gemma, who was by now on the edge of the penalty area. Gemma struck the ball hard, but it sailed just too high and bounced off the crossbar and over the netting for a goal kick. All the parents on our side clapped and ooohed and Hannah yelled out, “Fantastic attempt, Hursty!”

  For the next few minutes it was all a bit scrappy, with both sides gaining possession and then instantly losing it again. We seemed to have more chances, but somehow we never scored.

  After ten minutes it was still nil-all, and then the Hixton goalie booted the ball out to the right wing. It didn’t land near anyone, so there was a race to see who could get to it first. Nika won, but she slipped and fell, so a grateful Hixton midfielder dribbled the ball down the line. She stopped well outside the box, but had a shot anyway. The ball sailed high in the air, and it wouldn’t have gone in if Petra hadn’t leapt for it and headed it the wrong way for an own goal. Poor Petra! She clapped her hands over her mouth and began apologizing to Megan, who just patted her as if to say “No worries.” I felt so sorry for Petra. I knew exactly how she felt – I’d done the same when we played the Lornton Under 10s boys’ team back in April.

  “Never mind! Never mind! Play on!” Hannah urged.

  The goal seemed to put a spell on both sides. A good spell on Hixton – they began passing the ball better – and a bad spell on us: we became pants. Within five minutes Hixton’s number 9 had scored twice, despite Megan making some brilliant stops in between. The spectators on the Hixton side were jumping up and down in celebration as if they’d won the lottery or something.

  Hannah then made four substitutions. I was on for Petra. “Mark number 9,” Katie whispered to me.

  I nodded, tingling all over as I waited for Petra to come off. Yes! Finally!

  “Up and at ’em, petal,” Dad called out as I ran on to take up my position.

  “Thanks, Dad.” I grinned.

  Harry just glowered.

  Number 9 took me by surprise by beaming at me when I stood next to her. The Grove Belles girl hadn’t spoken to me at all. “Hello,” she said, “I’m Aisha.”

  “Lucy.”

  “I’ve scored two goals!”

  “I know.”

  “Isn’t it great?”

  I stared at her. What was I meant to say to that? Congratulations?

  “Soz, that sounds really big-headed! It’s just I’ve never scored before, and we always lost last season so it’s just so cool to be winning.”

  “I guess it must be.”

  “We beat the other new team six–nil last week – and now you.”

  I frowned. “You mean Southfields?”

  “Uh-huh. Southfields Athletic, except they weren’t athletic
they were more … pathletic.”

  I felt annoyed then. It must feel great winning matches for the first time, but it wasn’t very sporting to brag about beating inexperienced teams. Everyone has to start somewhere.

  I went in quick and keen. I stuck to Aisha and made sure whenever the ball came near her I was there first, darting just in front of her every time and clearing the ball out of danger. “Well played, Lucy!” I could hear my dad yelling every two seconds.

  “The other girl didn’t do that,” Aisha complained after I’d intercepted another pass. She didn’t seem quite so gleeful now.

  I was just beginning to relax into the game when the whistle went for half-time. Half-time already! I’d only just got going!

  “How was that?” Hannah asked as we gathered in a semicircle by our bottles and bags.

  “I don’t get it. We’re playing better than last week but we’re still losing,” Tabinda moaned.

  Hannah laughed. “That’s football for you! The main thing is you are playing better – a thousand times better – so just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll be fine.”

  “What’s great is that you’re all trying so hard,” Katie added.

  Hannah made a few changes but I was allowed to stay on, which boosted me no end. I took up my position next to Aisha.

  “Hello again, Lucy,” she said. You had to hand it to her, she was pally!

  “Hello again, Aisha.”

  “This is a good game, isn’t it?”

  “It’s about to get even better,” I told her.

  Guess what? I was right! It got much better because we scored twice in the first seven minutes! Once from a corner and once in a goalmouth scramble. Nika scored both. Go Nika! The goals totally deflated Hixton, and for the next ten minutes the ball was ours. I lost count of the number of shots we had on target until we scored again – and when we did it was a beauty from Gemma. She simply flicked the ball between the keeper’s legs – a perfect nutmeg. Three-all!