Are All Brothers Foul?

by Helena Pielichaty

  “You do that, sweetheart,” Dad said.

  I didn’t even look at Harry. There was no point.

  Throwing my bag and water bottle down on top of everyone else’s, I joined in with the pre-match chat. Tabinda was telling everyone about her spoilt cousins who’d spent the weekend with them. “They wanted to play on the Wii all the time, right, but when I beat them they got the hump, so Mum said I had to let them win. Charming! I wouldn’t mind, but they’re way older than me…”

  I smiled, glad I wasn’t the only one with irritating relatives.

  The Cuddlethorpe Tigers arrived just as we were doing our stretches. They were the team who’d dropped out of the pre-season friendly with us. I liked their blue and white striped shirts. Red versus blue. My two favourite colours. Man U v. Everton or Chelsea. Yes! I began jumping up and down on the spot and felt the adrenalin rush kick in. This was more like it. Blow that whistle, ref, please!

  Speaking of refs, Katie had that job today, so she couldn’t join us for our pep talk. It was down to Hannah to big us up on her own. “OK,” she began, “we’re missing Amy today because she hasn’t found any new boots yet…”

  “She could have just cleaned her others!” Jenny-Jane grunted. “All you have to do is wait till the poo goes hard and then scrape it off with a knife.”

  “For good advice and all household tips, see Miss Bayliss!” Hannah laughed.

  “I was just sayin’.” Jenny-Jane scowled, not liking being teased.

  Hannah glanced at her clipboard. “OK, the twins are late…”

  “Never!” Megan scoffed.

  “Amazing!” Holly added.

  “All right, ladies… Thank you…” Hannah warned. I’ve noticed Hannah is tolerant of lateness but not so tolerant of us dissing our team-mates. That makes a good coach, I think. “… and Nika and Eve are at church…” she continued, before pausing for a second to look at us all. “Is there anyone else who finds Sunday matches difficult to get to? I’ll try to bring it up when we arrange the fixtures next time if it is a problem.”

  I wondered whether to say anything about the early start I’d had to make, but I didn’t think Hannah would count that as a problem, so I kept quiet.

  “OK,” she continued. “You all played brilliantly on Thursday. Your passing was much better; you were thinking about finding space and you were more aware of one another. All signs of a team that’s coming together.”

  “Southfields let us find space, though,” Tabinda pointed out.

  “Well, let’s see if the Tigers do!” Hannah smiled. “Go get ’em!”

  Considering how fed up I’d been earlier, this match turned out to be my best game yet! It was utterly butterly! Hannah put me at the back with Holly and Petra again for the whole of the first half. “Stay with their number 11,” were my orders. Number 11 looked titchy; she would probably only come up to my armpit. Oh well. Being tall wasn’t something I could control.

  Katie blew her whistle and we kicked off. I don’t know what it was, but there was a different feeling in the air today. Everyone seemed so – I don’t know – up for it, I suppose. We chased every ball, and if we lost it we chased it again until we regained it. Holly was much better at intercepting passes this week. I reckon she’d finally worked off all the hot dogs she’d had in Disneyland!

  After five minutes we were one–nil up and after ten, two–nil, with Nika netting the first and Tabinda the second. When Cuddlethorpe had possession, they tried to pass to my number 11 every time. Sometimes she got the ball and sometimes I did, but the times she did have possession I marked her so tightly she ended up backed into the corner with nowhere to go. “Wake up, Serena! What’s the matter with you?” a man on the touchline kept barking at her.

  Once in frustration she kicked the ball straight at me. It rebounded off my shin and went out of play for a throw-in. The same man, stout with a black beanie hat pulled over his ears, grabbed the ball and shoved it hard into Serena’s arms. “Now, think! Think!” he said, jabbing his finger angrily into the side of his head.

  Serena looked upset as she leapt, trying to throw the ball over my head. I leapt at the same time – but before I could get my head to it, Katie blew the whistle. “Foul throw-in. Take it again, please, Cuddlethorpe.”

  “What? What?” the man shouted.

  Katie kicked the ball gently towards Serena. “Both feet on the ground, please.”

  “Oh! Another biased ref! That’s all we need,” he muttered.

  Katie ignored him and waited patiently for Serena to get ready. She managed to keep both feet on the ground this time, but the throw landed right in front Jenny-Jane. Jenny-Jane ran with the ball, wriggled clear of two players in midfield and should have passed to Gemma, who was unmarked on the left, but instead she kept running and lost the ball to a good tackle by their defender, right on the edge of the box.

  “Never mind, JJ,” Hannah said. “Keep trying.”

  For the rest of that half and most of the second, we dominated. I still stuck with Serena, even though we didn’t have much to do. Despite that, the man kept giving her instructions. “Start running to it, Serena! You’re just spectatin’! Get down there and help your midfield out! What’s the matter with you?”

  She just stared straight ahead, pretending not to notice.

  “Is that your coach?” I whispered.

  “No, it’s my dad,” she muttered, “and I wish he’d drop dead.”

  I felt so sorry for her having a dad like that. I knew that even if I played like a plank and let in ten own goals, mine would always support me.

  It was four–one to us in the end. That meant two wins in a row! “You girls do know you’re becoming quite impressive, don’t you?” Hannah told us.

  “Course we do! We rock!” said Megan matter-of-factly.

  “Indeed! Anyway, there’s just one tiny thing to do before you all go and tuck into your Yorkshires…” Hannah said, producing another trophy from her bag.

  We waited. Receiving the Parsnip of the Match award was becoming a highlight of each game now. I knew I wouldn’t get it again so soon and I didn’t expect it. Tabinda nudged Petra, who nudged Megan – but it was Jenny-Jane Hannah turned to.

  “To our little terrier.” Hannah smiled.

  Jenny-Jane looked at the trophy suspiciously. “What am I meant to do with this?”

  “Put it on your mantelpiece.”

  “Me mam’ll only chuck it at me if I do!” Jenny-Jane muttered.

  OK, getting the trophy was a highlight for some of us!

  MATCH SIX

  Teams:

  Parrs U11s (Parsnips) v.

  Tembridge Vixens

  Date & venue:

  Saturday 6 October

  at Tembridge FC, Station Road,

  Tembridge

  Kick-off:

  10.30

  Attendance:

  23 (—2 by half-time)

  6

  The Friday before the next match started off OK. In fact, it was almost like old times, but with three of us instead of four sitting round the table chatting. Mum had made Harry and me laugh by telling us about a Year Eight girl who’d drawn spots on her feet in red felt pen to try and get out of doing cross-country.

  “But why?” I asked in amazement.

  “Because not everybody loves PE like you do!” Mum smiled.

  “Loads of girls in my form hate it,” Harry said. “They’re worried their hair will get spoilt or their make-up’ll run.”

  “Hair? What’s their hair got to do with cross-country?” I asked.

  “Exercise makes it all greasy, doesn’t it?”

  “Who cares about stuff like that?”

  “You will. Trust me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Will.”

  “Won’t!”

  “Don’t tease, Harry,” Mum told him.

  Harry shrugged. “Why not? What’s the point of having a little sister if I can’t tease it?”

  “‘It’? Thanks a lot!�
�� I laughed.

  Then Harry asked Mum a question. “You know next weekend?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you around?”

  “As far as I know. Why?”

  “Well, Arron’s having this party at his house…”

  Uh-oh. Alarm bells ringing! Harry was still grounded after parents’ evening. This conversation was not going to have a happy ending.

  “And?” Mum asked, her mouth tightening.

  “Well, I was wondering if I could come back here after, to sleep.”

  Mum’s mouth tightened even more. “No, Harry. Absolutely and definitely not.”

  No prizes for guessing how Harry reacted. The relaxed atmosphere completely vanished. “Fine, I’ll stay over at Arron’s instead,” he snarled, pushing his plate away.

  “You will not!” Mum snarled back. “You are grounded!”

  “’Snot up to you, though, is it? Weekends are Dad’s look-out. And he’ll say yes. He’s not an uptight freak like you.”

  I heard Mum’s quick intake of breath and I knew that Harry had gone too far this time.

  “Go to your room, Harry,” she said in a quiet voice that was still somehow quite scary.

  “Make me!” Harry replied, shooting out of his chair and sending it flying backwards into the glass door. I gasped and then held my breath for a second, in case the glass shattered, but the chair just bounced off it and landed upright. “Go on!” Harry goaded. “Make me!”

  My legs started to tremble and I felt really, really sick. I hated scenes like this. It had been the same for months and months. “Please don’t argue, Harry,” I begged, “please.”

  He looked at me with such distaste I felt myself shrivel; then he turned and stormed out.

  “Why is he so mean?” I asked Mum.

  “It’s just a phase,” Mum soothed, “just a phase.”

  I expected Harry to be vile the next morning, too, but actually he was OK. He even asked me who we were playing and what we reckoned our chances were.

  “Um … the Tembridge Vixens,” I said, “and they’re pretty decent – but we’ve won two in a row, so it could go either way.”

  I waited, half-expecting him to come out with something cutting, but he just bit into his toast and mumbled, “Well, good luck.”

  He was even more cheerful with Dad. “Morning, Pops,” he greeted, sliding into the front seat and tuning the radio to Radio One.

  “Hang on! What’s wrong with Radio Two?” Dad asked.

  “It’s for old people,” Harry replied.

  “Oh” – Dad laughed – “and Radio One is for…”

  “Cool people, obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  Finally I relaxed. Everything was going to be OK. I could concentrate on thinking about the game against the Tembridge Vixens instead of wondering if Harry was going to throw a hissy fit again. My foot started tapping nervously on the car floor. Kick-off couldn’t come fast enough.

  As soon as we arrived, I peered across the pitch to where the Vixens were gathered. I did this automatically now. I liked to suss out the enemy. The Vixens played in black and white stripes, like Newcastle and Notts County; it gave them a crisp, sharp look, like a freshly painted fence. Their coach was laughing at something one of the Vixens had told him. I remembered him from the summer tournament; he’d been really friendly and had shouted out compliments to us as well as to his own players. I felt my stomach bubble with excitement. This was going to be a good match. I could feel it in my bones.

  We had a full squad today; even Daisy and Dylan managed to make the end of the warm-up drills. Hannah began firing off instructions. “Hols, Lucy and Wardy, I want you at the back. Lucy, watch that number 9… They call her Ninja and she’s fast… Megan, I want to hear you shouting orders to your defence… Keep them alert.”

  “OK Boss! I’m on it!” Megan yelled at the top of her voice and everybody fell about laughing.

  As we walked onto the pitch for kick-off I glanced across at Dad and Harry, hoping for a thumbs-up, but they had their backs to the touchline and I could tell from the angle of their heads and Dad’s gesticulations that they were arguing. What had happened now? After they’d had such a laugh on the journey over…

  I sighed and focused on the game ahead. Hannah had told me to mark Ninja, the number 9. That’s what I’d do.

  The Vixens kicked off and the match was under way. Their experience showed instantly. They were much better than us at quick passing, so the ball moved into our half and towards the goalmouth in an instant. I did my best to jockey Ninja, a slim girl with shoulder-length red hair. Hannah was right – she was fast. She knew where I was all the time and she was constantly zigzagging round me. “Mark up! Mark up!” Megan yelled.

  Funnily enough, we scored first. They had an attempt on goal but it hit the post, bounced off Holly’s chest and landed straight at Jenny-Jane’s feet. She hoofed it away – I think aiming just to clear it – but it landed near the centre spot, where an unmarked Nika dribbled it forward. Two Vixens tried to close her down, but Gemma was running parallel and Nika passed it across. Gemma’s marker tried to tackle but Gemma leapt over her foot, taking the ball with her, hared forward, then crossed the ball perfectly for Eve in the box. I couldn’t see exactly what happened then because the Vixens defence had regrouped and there were black and white stripes everywhere. A second later, though, it was our red shirts who were punching the air in delight and Eve was doing a jig. “Quality! Quality!” I heard the Vixens coach comment, clapping his hands.

  The goal seemed to press an alarm button for the Vixens. Their passing became more controlled and their coach began calling out instructions as he followed play up and down the touchline. It wasn’t long before he seemed to be near me all the time. “One of you in the middle! One of you! Support Ninja!”

  Competing with the Vixens coach was Megan, who had taken Hannah’s instructions seriously and was bellowing for Britain. “Hols, move out of my way! Dayz, go forward! Forward! No, not that far! Stay on the flipping pitch! Wardy – near post. Near post!”

  I could feel my heart beating in my chest and my stomach doing somersaults. This was so tense! I had to concentrate on Ninja every second. I must have been doing a fairly good job, because she hadn’t had that much of the ball – but then suddenly she started waving like mad. “To me, Gazza! To me!” she yelled.

  I frowned. We were pretty close to the corner flag and there was no room for a pass. Confused, I turned and prepared to intercept, but the ball was played into a space well to my right and nowhere near us. Ninja suddenly spun the other way, sprinting diagonally, straight to the waiting ball. I chased after her, but too late – she had already passed back to Gazza, an equally pacy forward.

  Gazza now darted round Petra and was in the box. I ran in, but Megan had already committed herself by lunging straight at Gazza who, equally committed, couldn’t stop her boot clattering against Megan’s shin like a hammer meeting wood. I winced as Megan fell to the ground and rolled over in agony, clutching her leg.

  Hannah ran on with the first-aid bag as we all crowded round, including their coach and Gazza, who was saying, “Are you all right? I’m so sorry!”

  “I’m fine, honest; I’m fine!” Megan protested, but she was biting her lower lip, trying not to cry.

  “Come off, Meggo,” Hannah ordered. Megan shook her head stubbornly, but Hannah wouldn’t listen. She hoisted Megan up and began leading her off the pitch. “Hols, take over in goal,” she instructed over her shoulder.

  “Me?” Holly asked. “But I can’t kick very far.”

  “Lucy will take the goal kicks; you defend the net.”

  “OK,” said Holly and looked at me in dread.

  “You’ll be great,” I told her.

  The ref blew her whistle. Thinking she meant start, I placed the ball on the edge of the box and prepared to take my first ever goal kick – but the ref blew again.

  “Wait for your new player,” she instructed as
Amy strode onto the pitch in her flash new boots – bright orange ones this time – and took up her position next to Ninja.

  “You’ve got to mark the one Holly was marking,” Amy told me as she passed.

  “Got you,” I said, and prepared to take the free kick again – only for the ref to whistle again. Not once but several times, shrill and impatient. I scowled and glanced towards the touchline. What now?

  What I saw killed every somersault in my stomach stone dead. Harry was stomping across the field, with the ref trotting after him, blowing her whistle and telling him to get off the pitch. “What’re you doing?” she called. “There’s a match going on here if you hadn’t noticed, matey!” Harry wasn’t listening. His face was contorted with rage as he strode towards me. I stood rooted to the spot, my palms prickling, wondering what he was going to do. Scream at me? Call me names? Punch me, even? Anything was possible these days.

  In the end, he simply blanked me. Walked straight past as if I were invisible, and totally blanked me. As he passed, though, he blasted the ball from near my feet. I held my breath… The ball seemed certain to hit somebody. Luckily, it flew between the spectators and bounced behind them. “Watch it!” the Vixens coach told him, but Harry just ploughed on without speaking, without stopping, like a car whose brakes had failed.

  The spectators parted to allow him through. From the corner of my eye I saw Dad on the other side, half striding, half running round the outer edge of the pitch. He was waving to me and holding up my bag, gesticulating that I should follow him. Confused, I glanced across to Hannah, but she was busy examining Megan’s shin. It was Katie who nodded at me to go. Already Daisy was running on to take my place.

  I could feel everyone staring at me, wondering what was going on. “I’ve got to take over,” Daisy said apologetically when I didn’t move, “’cos your brother’s gone twaddly.”