Hot Prospect (5 page)

“So Jon Masters walked down here,” said Roddy, trying to imagine the avenue as a players' tunnel. He could see the two teams lined up, waiting to run on.

“That's right,” said Jason. “And if you come down here,” he led the way to the end of the avenue, “you can see the pitch.”

Roddy gasped. It was the most amazing school pitch he'd ever seen. The grass was
perfectly cut, without a blemish on its surface, and at the end of the avenue, off to one side, were a few rows of old, wooden seats. He could see that they must have been part of a large stand at one time, but now they stood alone, looking very odd in the tranquil surroundings. They had all been freshly painted, apart from one of them, which looked as if it had been partly burnt.

“No walking on the pitch,” Jason warned, as several people moved forward. “It's only used for matches against outside teams, and for the house finals at the end of the year. If you're not playing, it's out of bounds.”

“Which house won last year?” someone wanted to know.

“Moore,” said Jason. “My house. But it was very close. These are the lucky seats,” he explained. As it's the holidays you can sit here for a few minutes. We like to think that some
of the old stadium luck rubs off onto anyone who touches them. Not that one though!” he said hastily, as Roddy made for the nearest seat, the one that hadn't been painted. “Sorry, I should have said. No one sits in that seat, ever. You're allowed to touch it for luck, but not sit in it.”

Roddy felt embarrassed. “Why not?” he asked, taking the next one instead.

“Well it's silly, I suppose, but A23 is the seat Jon Masters sat in when he was a child. When he came to restore the seats, he decided to leave that one as it was. There was a fire that swept through the stadium and destroyed most of the stand shortly before he bought it, but he wanted to keep this seat as it was. Somehow it doesn't seem right for us to use it.”

“So doesn't
anyone
sit there?” asked a tall boy.

“No,” said Jason. “Very occasionally Jon
Masters comes to a match. But when he does, he always chooses a different seat. If you come to school here, you'll hear all sorts of ghost stories about the avenue and the seats, but they're not really haunted. Kids just like to make up that sort of thing.”

“What sort of ghost stories?” asked a wellbuilt boy, standing some way from Roddy.

Jason looked uncomfortable. “Oh, stuff about the fire, and a phantom footballer,” he said. “But you don't want to listen to that sort of rubbish. You're here for a football trial. Come on. I've still got to show you the swimming pool and the gym.

They all got up, and he led them back towards the main school. Roddy trailed his hands over the seats as they left them. If there was any luck to be had from them, he wanted to make sure he got as much of it as possible.

Back at the main building, Roddy's group joined all the other hopefuls in the dining room. While everyone was having a drink, Mr Jenkins appeared. Roddy was very pleased to see a familiar face.

“He was at the summer school day I went on,” he explained to Geno excitedly. “He was the one who asked me to come to this trial.”

Mr Jenkins clapped his hands to get everyone's attention, and the room fell silent.

“I'm Mr Jenkins, head coach for the juniors,” he told them. “Some of you will have met me before. I try to get to as many summer schools as possible, but I don't manage to be
at all of them.” He paused and looked over the crowd of people in front of him.

“I'd like to welcome you to Stadium School, and to thank you all for coming. I know some of you have travelled long distances to get here. I also know that uppermost in your minds will be the trial, and in a few minutes we'll go over to the changing rooms and get started. But here at Stadium School we can afford to be very choosy, and we like to think that every student who comes here has the right attitude, as well as the right skills to fit in. That is why we invite all our prospective students to stay overnight with us. We can get an idea of what sort of person you are, and hopefully you can find out enough about the school to decide if you'll be happy here.”

Mr Jenkins looked to his right, where Jason and a girl from the school were waiting. “OK. Girls, you follow Debbie, and boys, go with
Jason. Your strips are already in the changing rooms. I'll see you out on the field in 20 minutes.”

Roddy grabbed his kitbag. His dad had bought him new shin pads with ankle support especially for today. Roddy hoped they'd do the trick and keep his ankle well protected. In the changing room, he took his blue shorts and blue-and-green shirt, and found a space to get changed.

During the guided tour, Roddy had felt quite calm, but as he pulled the shirt over his head, his mouth felt dry. In a few minutes, he would be out there on the practice pitch, doing his best to win a place at this school.

Geno was already changed and, as Roddy finished lacing his boots, his new friend came to stand with him. Geno was looking pale and scared, but there was a determination in his face that Roddy hadn't noticed before.

“Well,” Roddy said to Geno. “This is it. Good luck.”

“Good luck to you, too,” said Geno, offering his hand. Roddy hadn't ever shaken hands with a friend before. It felt as if he was crossing some sort of frontier, as if he was growing up in a sudden jerk.

The last boot had been tied, the last shirt put on. Everyone was ready. Roddy and Geno pushed their way out of the changing rooms and onto the pitch. The girls were already there, some standing still and others warming up with stretches or short sprints. They all looked anxious and edgy.

Roddy saw Mr Jenkins approaching and nudged Geno. The players were split up into eight teams of eleven, and Roddy was pleased to have been put with his new friend. The teams had a few minutes to get to know each other and sort out tactics before the matches
began. Roddy looked across at their opponents and recognised Keira doing some stretches.

It was a sunny day, but a cool breeze was blowing. The conditions were perfect, and the turf was pretty good, too. Roddy was impressed. For a practice pitch, it was brilliant, better than almost anything he'd played on before. He wouldn't be able to blame the field if he made a mess of things. But Roddy didn't feel as if he would make too many mistakes. Now he was kitted up, he felt really positive and itching to go.

Both teams lined up in a standard 4–4–2 formation. Roddy glanced to the touchline and saw Mr Jenkins watching. He told himself to play like he always did, and not to let the nerves show.

The time has come for Jones to show the world what he can do. The ball comes to him early and he looks up to see where his teammates
are. An opponent is closing in on him fast, but he skips past him with ease and plays a simple ball out to his right, cutting another opponent out with the precision of his pass. Good solid stuff, but nothing spectacular. He's going to have to do more than this to impress the selectors
.

Roddy's team lost possession, and he made up a lot of ground to tackle and win back the ball. It was important to show he was hardworking as well as talented, and Roddy was sure he could see Mr Jenkins writing something down in his notebook. Again, under a lot of pressure, he was forced to play a simple pass. Then, just as the ball was knocked back to him, a sliding tackle from an opponent made contact with his injured ankle.

“Ow!” For a few moments Roddy was in agony. He didn't fall, but he stood bent over for a couple of seconds until the pain faded.
He wiped his watering eyes, started to hobble, and then upped his pace to a run. To his relief, the kick didn't seem to have done any lasting damage, but the ball was way up the field now and he had some real work to do to get back into the game.

Roddy wanted an opportunity to run with the ball, to show what he was really capable of. But most people were being a bit selfish. It was natural to want to show what they could do, but one girl on his team was repeatedly holding onto the ball for too long, and then losing it when she should have gone for an easy pass. Roddy wondered whether he should have a word with her about it, but then something else grabbed his attention.

And it's Jones with the pass out to the left wing. Richards is running down the touchline, looking to get the cross in, but a horrendous tackle floors her and the ref blows a furious
blast on his whistle. Richards isn't getting up, and appears to be in a lot of pain. Medical staff are rushing onto the pitch. It looks like her part in today's action is over
.

Roddy stared with horror at his team-mate on the ground. She'd been tackled by the boy who had kicked Roddy's ankle just a few minutes before. Mr Jenkins was already there, speaking urgently to Jason, the ref. After a few moments, Jason jogged away from the scene of the accident and called everyone over.

“Sarah Richards won't be able to carry on,” he said. “So the game will be halted until she's off the pitch. You can all take a break.”

“What's wrong?” gasped Keira, trying to catch her breath.

“We won't know until the doctor has arrived,” said Jason seriously. “She's had a bad knock. But you guys don't worry about it – you need to keep focused on the trial. Use this time
to discuss tactics. One team is a player down, and both teams need to work out how they're going to handle the change.”

Everyone was very subdued, and the atmosphere was even worse when an ambulance arrived. Once the girl was loaded in and the ambulance had left, Jason signalled everyone back onto the pitch. Before they started playing again, Mr Jenkins spoke to everyone.

“That was a nasty accident,” he said. “But you have to try and put it out of your minds and play on as normal. Footballers get injured all the time. The good news is that I'm sure she's going to be all right. Now, some of you were really impressive before the incident, let's keep it up!”

The boy responsible for the tackle was taken aside and spoken to, but he was allowed to play on. In spite of the girl's injury, Roddy
thought it was the right decision. The tackle had looked more misjudged than malicious, and with everyone going all out to impress, accidents were almost bound to happen.

The ref signalled that play should resume. The mood had perceptibly altered and, despite Mr Jenkins's words, everyone was definitely playing with a little less vigour than before.

It could have been me
. The words kept echoing round his brain. Roddy told himself to concentrate on the game, but it wasn't easy.

With their numerical disadvantage, Roddy's side began to struggle, and shots started to pour in on their keeper, a Swedish boy called Tom Larsson. But Tom played a blinder in goal and, incredibly, they made it to half-time without conceding. Roddy was sure that the tall goalie would get a place at the school, but his own performance so far had been nothing to shout about.

During half-time, there was very little talking, with everyone's minds still on the horrible accident.

Then Roddy decided to speak up. “We're a player down, but that doesn't mean we can't play well and still win,” he said. “They'll be pushing for a goal, so let's aim to get something on the counterattack and make them pay. We can still show the coaches what we can do!”

From the kickoff it was pretty much as Roddy had predicted, with the other team swarming all over their defence, led by Keira, who was running the game for them. She was picking out pass after pass to play to her forwards. Eventually, Roddy's side managed to hold onto the ball for more than a minute, and he found himself with an opportunity to run at the defence.

Jones is off on one of his mazy dribbles,
and look, he's going past defenders as if they weren't there, leaving them standing like training dummies! As he reaches the area, he draws back his foot and shoots … but the ball crashes off the inside of the post and spills out into the box. Perotti is there, and pounces on the free ball, sending it scudding into the goal. Geno Perotti has put his side in front against the odds, but the credit surely has to go to Roddy Jones for that scintillating run!

Roddy glanced at the sidelines to see if Mr Jenkins had taken note of his flash of inspiration, but was shocked to see that he wasn't there! Then he realised that there were three other matches going on, and that there were plenty of other coaches who would be scouting for him. Still, Roddy wished the junior head coach had seen it for himself. There wasn't much time left, and with most of it spent helping out the defence, Roddy didn't
have any more chances to shine.

At the end of the match, Roddy and Geno headed for the changing room together.

“So, what do you reckon?” asked Geno.

Roddy shrugged. “I don't know. It's impossible to tell how much they noticed. I don't think Mr Jenkins was even looking when I made that run.”

“It was a good cross you made later on,” said Geno. “And they definitely noticed that. I saw one of the assistants making a note.”

That cheered Roddy up. At least they'd noticed
something
good that he'd done. “You scored a great goal,” he told Geno.

“I
had
to score at least one,” said Geno. “I'm a striker. I can't expect to get picked if I can't deliver. You did most of the work for it though.”

“But you put it in the net,” said Roddy loyally. “That's what counts.”

“Perhaps,” said Geno with a frown. He pulled his shirt over his head and went to take a shower.

Roddy didn't really want to take the Stadium School strip off. While he was wearing it, he could pretend to himself that he'd already got his place at the school. But staff members were waiting to collect the used kit. Reluctantly, Roddy handed it over and went for his shower wondering if he'd
ever
have the chance to play in the blue and green again?