STADIUM
SCHOOL
WHERE FOOTBALLING DREAMS COME TRUE
Hot
Prospect
Jefferies & Goffe
To Cindy, who I quite literally couldn’t have
done it without, and to Cat, for living with
my football madness. SG
Thanks to Seb, who has made our writing
partnership so much fun. CJ
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Map of Stadium School
1. The Beautiful Game
2. Some Proper Coaching
3. A Big Decision
4. Stadium School
5. At the Trial
6. School Life
7. Evening
8. Home Again
9. The Waiting Game
10. A New School
Imprint
Map of Stadium School
1. The Beautiful Game
“Roddy! Your ball!”
Roddy Jones turned and chased the goalie’s wayward kick up the pitch. He was exhausted from running himself into the ground all afternoon for the Valley Primary School team, but happy doing what he absolutely loved. He was easily the best player, and as captain did most of the work himself, but he didn’t care. In his head he was a world-famous attacking midfielder, playing in the World Cup, and he could hear the commentators marvelling at his skill.
And it’s Jones now, in acres of space. He puts his foot on the ball and looks up to assess the situation, then spots Bryn Thomas making a lovely run down the right wing. He hoists a pin-point pass 40 yards across the pitch, and sets off at a gallop towards the penalty area. Thomas collects the ball a split second before the covering defender, and instinctively lashes in a cross to where he knows Jones will be arriving. Without breaking his stride, the young Welsh-Brazilian midfielder lets the ball bounce once before firing home a vicious half-volley into the top-left corner, leaving the despairing keeper sprawled in the mud. Jones wheels away with his fist in the air, and slides on his knees towards the corner flag. His fourth goal seals a magnificent 5–1 victory for a well-deserved place in the final!
Roddy came off the field with the rest of his five-a-side team. He was gasping for breath, covered in mud, and his jet-black hair was sticky with sweat. But his dark eyes were sparkling with excitement, and he was laughing. They’d won every game they’d played and were in the final of the tournament. What could possibly be better than that?
“Stuffed them, didn’t we, Bryn?” Roddy panted to his best mate with glee, rubbing his face with the bottom of his shirt.
Bryn Thomas nodded his cropped head. “St David’s has twice as many pupils as we do,” he said. “But they’re useless.”
“Now then,” said their coach, Mr Taylor, as he joined them from the touchline. “No rubbishing the opposition.”
“But 5–1!” objected Bryn. “They are useless.”
“They just don’t have a Roddy Jones,” said Mr Taylor, smiling at the team. “He played a blinder out there, but he needs more support. This is a team game. You can’t expect Roddy to do all the work. You’re in the final now, but if you’re not careful, our star player won’t survive the match.”
“Drinks! And a Mars bar each.” It was Roddy’s dad with the refreshments. Dan Jones was almost as keen on football as his son, and had taken the afternoon off to help with the five-a-side tournament. “Well done, Roddy,” he added proudly. “Your third goal was brilliant. I think St David’s gave up after that. Well done, all of you.”
“Yes, you’ve earned your place in the final,” agreed Mr Taylor. “And we’re playing on this pitch again, so you can have a good rest. The opposition will have to come to us.”
“Who are we up against?” asked Roddy between gulps of his drink. He was sorry the day was almost over, despite being totally shattered. His mum, Francesca Jones, said he was so football mad he’d play in his sleep if he could! In fact, the whole family was keen on the game, but recently his older sister Liz had lost interest, which was a shame because she’d been pretty good, too.
Roddy played football whenever and wherever he got the chance. In school, in the back garden, at the park, even in his bedroom sometimes, although that wasn’t really to be recommended. Roddy Jones simply lived for the game. Mr Taylor had already told him how much he’d be missed when he moved up to Valley Comp next term.
“You’re facing Manor Primary,” said Mr Taylor, checking his list. “They’ve only dropped one game today. Did you get a chance to see how they play, Dan?”
Roddy’s dad nodded. “They’ve got a midfielder you’ll need to watch out for,” he told the team. “He’s almost as quick as you, Roddy. But their defence is a bit weak – they all want to be goal scorers. If you can get past that midfielder, you should be OK.”
“Bryn, make sure you back up Roddy, and Ella, more of those long passes would be excellent,” said their coach. “Manor Primary must be good, otherwise they wouldn’t be in the final, but we can beat them if we play our best.” He rubbed his hands together. “Time to go. Good luck, everyone.”
All the parents, teachers and pupils from the losing teams were making their way over to watch. Roddy pulled his socks well up and checked the laces on his boots. He took a few deep breaths. The Manor Primary team had arrived, and the referee was ready.
Valley Primary, in red, lined up opposite the Manor Primary players in blue, both sizing each other up. With only ten minutes of football between him and the chance to lift a real trophy, Roddy wasn’t going to let any of his team-mates slack off now.
“You heard Mr Taylor,” he said. “The way to beat this lot is to let them come at us, then strike when they’re exposed at the back. Strong defence and counterattacking, that’s the stuff. Now, let’s show them how to play!”
From the kickoff, Manor Primary have made their intentions clear, and are really going at the red defence, forcing Jones back to help out his team-mates. But with such a fierce assault, Manor is leaving dangerous gaps at the back, and Jones will look to take full advantage.
The reds’ goalie manages to hold onto the muddy ball, and launches it over the heads of the Manor team, to where Jones is sprinting into unmarked space. The blues are streaming back to chase him, and gaining on the lone attacker. Jones has run his heart out today, and with the rain beginning to come down, his pace is fading. Just as he shapes to shoot, a blue shirt catches up and clatters into him from behind, clearly with no intention of playing the ball. The ref’s whistle shrills immediately, and he gives the defender a good talking to, but the free kick comes to nothing and the chance is wasted.
The reds are back struggling in their own half, unable to play under the constant pressure from the blues. As the first half draws to a close, the reds seem to be cracking. The ball is floated in from the flanks, and Flowers, in the Valley goal, only succeeds in punching as far as the blue midfielder lurking on the edge of the box, who avoids a tackle, and slots the ball into the bottom corner of the net. 1–0 to Manor Primary. The ref looks at his watch, and blows a long blast to signal the end of the half.
There was a short rest before play began again.
“You all right, mate?” Bryn asked Roddy anxiously. “That was a horrible tackle. He should’ve been sent off.”
“I’m fine,” said Roddy. “It’s just a pity we didn’t get a goal out of it.”
Ella Flowers was sitting on her own, blaming herself for the ball she’d let in, but Roddy did his bit to cheer her up.
“Come on,” he said. “One goal will get us back in the game, and they’ll be rattled then. We can still win this!”
The ref was waving them back onto the pitch, and Roddy’s monologue resumed.
/> The reds have left themselves a mountain to climb, but if anyone can inspire a reversal of fortunes, it’s Jones. He plays the ball out to Thomas, in his customary position wide on the right, and moves up the pitch in unison with his vice-captain.
Thomas splits the defence with a magical through-ball, leaving Jones one on one with the keeper. He runs forward until he can see the whites of the goalie’s eyes. Then, with a cheeky little shimmy, he leaves the keeper sprawling as the ball spins into the back of the net. Jones wheels away to high-five his teammates, then jogs back to his own half to await the restart. 1–1. Can either side finish this?
The clock was winding down, and the match looked like heading to penalties. Neither side was dominating, and all ten players were exhausted. Roddy picked up the ball on the edge of his own area after another fruitless blue attack, and saw an open space ahead of him.
And now Jones is on the ball. It’s a long way to the other end, but he’s thundering down the pitch. He skips past the despairing lunge of the only blue defender, and now he is all alone in the Manor Primary half.
Jones puts his head down and hoofs the ball ahead of himself, sprinting to catch up. The keeper is unsure what to do, and dithers a few yards off his line before rushing out late. Jones senses the indecision, and hoists a perfect lob. Time seems to stand still as the ball arcs over the goalie’s outstretched hands. Slowly, it dips just under the crossbar and nestles in the back of the net. The final whistle goes! Jones topples over backwards and lies flat out on the ground, before being crushed by his celebrating team-mates. Manor Primary is gutted. Jones will be lifting the cup here, and his team will be taking home the glory!
Valley Primary was presented with prizes by the tournament sponsor. There was a silver cup for their school and a boot bag for each member of the team. Roddy raised the cup above his head to the cheers of the crowd. As the applause died away, he could see his dad smiling proudly, so Roddy sprinted over to him. But before he could show off his winnings, Mr Taylor had joined them, too.
“I wonder if Roddy might be interested in this,” he said, offering a leaflet to Roddy’s dad. “There are limited places, and it’s first come, first served, but I’m sure it would be worthwhile. They’re a very prestigious organisation, and they haven’t come to this area before.”
“What is it?” asked Roddy.
Roddy’s dad passed him the leaflet. “It’s a one-day football summer school,” he said. “Would you like to go?”
“It’s run by Stadium School!” said Roddy, staring at the front of the smart, glossy flyer. “I saw a programme about them on TV.”
“This isn’t actually going to be held at Stadium School,” Mr Taylor explained. “The summer-school day will be held at the County Ground in our town, but the coaches are from Stadium School. I should think you’d pick up some good tips if you went along.”
Roddy looked at the leaflet again. On the front was a picture of a young player, not much older than himself, in the blue-and-green strip of the famous school. The TV programme had shown how students there had the best coaches and the most amazing facilities to help them develop a successful career in football. Leavers got picked up by clubs like Manchester United and Chelsea, and the presenter had interviewed one ex-student, who had recently been chosen to play for his country! It was the best place to be if you wanted to make it as a professional footballer, so it would be brilliant to get a taste of their coaching, even if it was just for a day. Mr Taylor and Dad were OK, but they weren’t experts by any means.
“Ring the number now!” Roddy urged his dad. “Hurry, before all the places go. Please!”
Mr Jones laughed. “I’ll do it as soon as we get back to the car,” he said. “Thanks,” he added to Mr Taylor. “It’s good to find something exciting for Roddy to do in the holidays.”
“Will you really ring straight away?” demanded Roddy impatiently.
Dan looked at Mr Taylor. “Now look what you’ve done,” he joked. “I’m not going to get any peace until I’ve made that call.”
“See you at the car in a minute,” Roddy said. “I’m just going to tell Bryn about it. He’s sure to want to go, too.”
Roddy headed towards his friend, who was sitting on the ground taking off his boots. In Roddy’s mind they were both at the summer school already, learning all the skills they’d need to get into the first team at Valley Comp.
It’ll be interesting to see what Jones and Thomas make of this chance. Thomas’s performance can be a bit inconsistent, and Jones could do with better service from his team-mate. This is a big opportunity for them both to fine tune their skills, and make them even more of a force to be reckoned with.
Roddy wondered if anyone famous would be there. It would be so cool if a professional footballer from the Premier League came along. Sometimes they did help out at things like this. Roddy felt excited just thinking about it. Picking up some real, expert advice would be a dream come true. Now he just had to hope there were some places left.
2. Some Proper Coaching
Fortunately there were places at the summer school for both Roddy and Bryn, so the week after school finished, they caught the bus down to the County Ground. Roddy wore the Wales strip he’d been given for his last birthday, and they both carried their boots in the bags they’d won.
There were kids of all ages there. Some adult helpers sorted them out into age groups and sent them off to different parts of the field, each with a Stadium School representative. Roddy didn’t notice anyone famous, but Bryn recognised someone they’d seen at the tournament.
“There’s that kid from the Manor Primary team!” he whispered, as they followed their representative to an empty part of the field.
Sure enough, the boy who had fouled Roddy was in their group.
Roddy shrugged. “Never mind,” he said. “I expect he’ll be all right. We’re not in a final now.”
“Hello, everyone,” said the young group leader, who was wearing the stylish blue-and-green Stadium School strip that Roddy had seen on TV. “I’m Peter Denver, and I’ve just finished my final year at Stadium School.”
Roddy couldn’t hide his disappointment. “He’s just a student,” he muttered to Bryn. “I thought we were supposed to have a real coach!”
He’d meant the comment to come out quietly, but Peter obviously heard him. “Don’t worry,” he said, grinning in Roddy’s direction. “You’ll be getting plenty of input later from our juniors’ coach, but I’m going to do some fun stuff with you while he’s working with another group. And I can answer any questions you have about Stadium School. After all, I did go there for five years!”
“What’s it like?” called out a curly-haired girl.
Peter smiled. “Brilliant!” he said. “It’s so good to be at a school where everyone is crazy about the game. They even try to bring football into maths and other ordinary lessons. And being a boarding school, there’s always someone to have a kick about with. I’m almost sorry to be leaving.”
“Where are you going now?” asked Roddy.
“I’ve been signed by Blackburn Rovers,” Peter told them, looking very proud. “I’ll be starting in their youth squad in September.”
Peter had done what Roddy could only dream about. To live and breathe football, and come out of school signed to a good club. Roddy wasn’t sure how he felt. Part of him was fiercely jealous, but he also felt rather in awe. More than anything, he felt challenged to do his very best today, to show Peter that even kids from ordinary schools could play great football.
“Come on then, let’s get started,” said Peter. “All in a circle for keepy-uppy. Whoever lets the ball drop is out of the game, unless they’re given a bad pass. My decision is final.” He dropped the ball he was carrying on to his foot and bounced it while he talked, then passed it neatly to Roddy. “Go!”
Roddy was taken by surprise. He wasn’t expecting it to come to him first, but the pass was perfect and he easily had the ball under control. He flicked it across t
he circle to the curly-haired girl who had asked Peter a question, and was glad that his pass was given the OK. Slowly, players began to drop out, either from trying to be too clever, or just from making mistakes. When there were only half a dozen left in the circle, Peter called an end to the game.
“All right,” he said. “Excellent stuff, but that’s enough. We could be here all day if we waited for some of you to mess up! Now, let’s try something else.”
When the juniors’ coach, Mr Jenkins, came over, Peter spent a few minutes speaking to him quietly. The coach cast his gaze over the group and Roddy shivered with anticipation. The last hour had been great fun, but now they were going to be taught by someone really important. Roddy had devoured every word of the leaflet, so he knew that Mr Jenkins had played for Wales before he’d turned to coaching. That was partly why he’d decided to wear his Wales strip to the day.
The coach’s eyes rested on Roddy for a moment and Roddy looked boldly back. He wanted the coach to see how determined he was. He might only be young, but football was his life, just as it was for any Premier League player.
“So, who here wants to be a professional footballer?” Mr Jenkins asked by way of introduction. Naturally, a chorus of “me” erupted from the group, and a smile broke across the coach’s face. “And do you have what it takes? Peter here tells me you’re pretty good, but it takes more than talent to make it as a pro. What else do you need?”
“Hard work!”
“Determination!”
“Luck!”
“Belief!”
“Passion!”
“All good answers,” said Mr Jenkins, holding up his hand for silence. “Especially luck. There are literally thousands of kids like you who are football crazy, thousands who have the ability. A lot of kids never get the opportunity to make the next step, and most will only have the one shot at it. It’s all about grabbing the chance when you get it, making the most of every bit of luck. But today’s just a bit of fun. Let’s split you up into teams for a few games. How many keepers have we got?” He counted the raised hands. “Five. Excellent. Goalies go over there, defenders here, midfielders in the middle and strikers, you come over by me. Now we can make some balanced teams.”
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