The Kick Off (2 page)

 

 

 

Jamie only wanted to talk to one person.

Jamie's granddad seemed to be the only one in the whole world who didn't give Jamie any grief. He never told him what to do. Jamie couldn't stand being told what to do.

But when it came to football, Mike Johnson certainly knew what he was talking about. The Hawkstone United “Young Player of the Year” award that he'd won three seasons in a row forty years ago were all the qualifications he needed to gain Jamie's respect.

They both loved the Hawks and the fact that his granddad had played for them made him a legend in Jamie's eyes. When Jamie's dad had left home, Jamie's mum changed both of their surnames back to her maiden name of Johnson. The older he got, the more proud Jamie felt that he had the same name as his granddad.

It wasn't like Jamie's granddad was trying to replace Jamie's dad. It was more that he was always there if Jamie needed him. They were friends as much as they were family, and he'd even asked Jamie to call him Mike rather than Granddad because he'd said that being called Granddad would make him feel like a right old pensioner.

Everyone said that had it not been for the knee injury, Jamie's granddad could have gone on to become one of the best players in Hawks history. Mike still took Jamie to see the Hawks play as often as he could, and when he sat next to Mike at the ground, Jamie always dreamed that one day he would be on the pitch playing for Hawkstone and Mike would be in the stands to see him do it. If he had the opportunity to make one wish in his life come true, that would be the one he would choose.

“Anyone can miss a penalty, JJ,” said Mike.

Jamie had just told him what had happened. He'd taken the long route back from school through the park. He'd thought it might give him time to think of some positives from the trial. But it hadn't worked. Jamie couldn't remember one good thing he'd done in the whole game.

“The important thing is that you have the confidence to step up and take the next one when it comes along. Football is about balls, after all.”

“I know,” said Jamie. “But this is more than just a mistake. I'm never gonna get in the A team now. I'll be lucky to get in the C team, I reckon.”

“Hang on a minute, Jamie,” said Mike, shaking his head. “The season hasn't even started yet and you're already writing yourself off, are you? The C team? You? Come on!”

“You didn't see it, Mike. It was so embarassing.”

“It's irrelevant, Jamie. It's gone. What you need to do is keep your mind positive and stick at it. If everyone got what they wanted just by clicking their fingers, nothing would be worth wanting, would it?”

“Well, I don't know. . .”

“Jamie, are you good enough to get into the A's?”

“I think so.”

“You
think
so?”

“OK, yeah. I
am
good enough. I'm as good as any of them.”

“Right, and you've got the whole of the holidays ahead of you now. So if you want to get in this team, then make it happen.”

“How do I do that, then?”

“I suggest you go back to the beginning. Let's go outside.”

They went out to the small garden at the back of the house.

“Wait here for a sec,” said Mike, walking to the shed at the bottom of the garden. He moved slowly. He'd walked with a limp ever since the operations he'd had on his knee when he was younger.

The shadows were starting to lengthen now. Jamie looked at how massive his was on the garden fence. He wondered how tall he would be when he grew up.

When he came back, Mike was carrying something behind his back.

“What's this?” he said, presenting a football to Jamie.

“Don't you start,” Jamie snapped. “I had a bad game but I still know what a football is.”

Jamie reached to grab the ball.

But Mike held on tightly.

“Ah, but if you want to be a real player, JJ, this has to be more than a football. It has to be your friend. From what you're telling me, it's not your friend at the moment.”

“What? My friend?” Jamie laughed. “How can a ball be my friend?”

“How do you make friends with anyone, Jamie? Spend some time together.”

Mike handed the ball over.

“And make sure you use both feet, JJ. That right foot's not just for standing on!” he said, giving Jamie a wink as he went inside.

Jamie stood there.

All he had for company was a ball and a brick wall.

It was all he needed.

 

 

 

“Jamie, where have you been?” demanded Karen Johnson, as soon as he got in.

“Nowhere – what's the problem?”

Jamie pushed his way past his mum to get a drink from the fridge. He didn't need any hassle from her. She wouldn't understand anyway. She didn't know anything about football.

“The problem is, it's nine o'clock and school finished at three and I haven't heard a word from you – that's the problem! I cook you dinner and you don't even bother to turn up. Why didn't you call me to tell me where you were?”

Jamie looked at his watch. It was 8.50. He hadn't even realized. He must have been kicking the ball against the wall for more than three hours. Not that he was in the mood to apologize for being late. Even now, he was still fuming about the match.

“I've eaten,” he barked. “And why do you have to know where I am the whole time, anyway? I'm thirteen years old. I can do what I want.”

“Who do you think you are?” his mum shouted back, tipping his cold dinner into the bin. “How dare you speak to me like that? The reason I bought you a phone is so that you can let me know where you are. If you aren't going to do that, then I'll take it—”

“All right! For God's sake!” said Jamie. “If you must know, I had the worst day at school
ever
and then I went to see Mike. Satisfied now?”

Jamie pounded up the stairs to his room. All he wanted was to be left alone and not to be bothered the whole time. Was that too much to ask?

He flicked on the radio. It was nearly time for the sports bulletin and he wanted to see if there had been any big-money transfers. He loved transfers. He could remember exactly how much all the Hawks players had cost when they'd been bought and which club they had joined from.

As he listened to the headlines, he headed a sponge ball against his bedroom wall, which was filled with posters of all of Jamie's favourite players.

When the bulletin had finished, Jamie switched off the radio and sat on the edge of his bed. He tumbled the ball between his hands and thought about the chat he'd had with Mike. He was right. If Jamie worked at it enough, he could still get that place in the A team. This wasn't over yet. Not by a long way.

 

 

 

At 11.45 the next morning, Jamie stretched out his arms, let out a big old yawn and got up. It was time for
Sports Saturday
.

He pulled his duvet down from upstairs and perched himself on the settee with a bowl of cereal and some ice-cold milk. His mum worked at the hospital on Saturdays and Jamie enjoyed his slobby start to the weekend, feasting on the latest sports action, with the house completely to himself. During the football season he recorded all the goals while he watched them so he could go back later and watch the Hawks goals again in slow-motion.

Jamie was supposed to do some shopping for his mum this afternoon but practically as soon as the programme finished, Jamie heard the sound of a ball bouncing outside the front door.

Jack was obviously ready for their weekly kick-around at Sunningdale Park and football beat shopping any day! They had planned a long session today because it was the only chance they were going to get. Jack was visiting family in Antigua for the whole of the summer holidays.

Jack and Jamie had been best mates since they were five. They had kicked a ball around for the first time in the same week that Jack had moved into Jamie's road, about eight years ago. Since then, they had pretty much grown up together and Jamie knew that, if he needed to, he could talk to Jack about anything.

Jack was really clever and always gave good advice. Maybe if Jack had been at the trials and had been able to calm Jamie down, everything would have been different. Jamie might even have scored the penalty.

But Jack hadn't been allowed to play in the trials. Neither of them could understand why. They played together the whole time outside of school so what was the difference? As far as Jamie was concerned, Jack was by far the best goalkeeper he knew.

So what if she was a girl? She was still a great keeper.

The boys at school said Jack was fit and Jamie knew she had a pretty face, but to him she was just a mate. A best mate.

 

Halfway through their jog to Sunningdale Park, Jamie suddenly came to a halt.

“What's up?” said Jack. “Run out of gas already? You need to get your fitness levels up, mate”

“Jack,” said Jamie tentatively. “We're mates, right?”

“Errr . . . I think so!” said Jack sarcastically.

“Can I ask you a question, then?”

“Jamie, if you're trying to ask me out, can you just get on with it – we haven't got all day!”

“Shut up for a second, Jack. This is serious.”

“OK, sorry. What is it?”

“Do I – I –” he stammered. “I mean . . . what do you think of my hair?”

“It's all right,” said Jack, sizing him up. “Looks the same as normal to me.”

“It
is
the same as normal, but what do you think of it? Is it really rubbish that it's . . . ginger?”

“I thought you always said that it was strawberry blond, Jamie,” Jack teased.

“Just answer the question, Jack.”

“Listen,” said Jack, putting her face near to Jamie's so that her dreadlocks almost touched his forehead. “Your hair is cool and you're a good looking bloke. You know that, so stop trying to make me big you up. Now can we please go and play some football?”

“Yeah, cool,” said Jamie, doing his best to keep a cheeky smile from flickering across his mouth.

 

After their kick-around, they went back to Jack's to chill and watch a film. Jamie didn't stay too late though, as Jack's flight was at 7 a.m. the next morning and she hadn't even finished packing properly.

When he left, Jamie felt a bit sad. The whole time he'd known her, they had never been apart for six weeks. That was a long time but at least they'd agreed that they would definitely meet up the night Jack got back, which was the day before school started.

He was going to miss her. Normally, they spent the whole of the summer holidays together. This time it was going to be different.

 

 

 

If there
was
one good thing about Jack being away, though, maybe it was that now Jamie had even more time to spend with his new best friend – the ball.

For the next week, Jamie spent every single day down at Sunningdale . . . alone, just him and the ball.

He did everything he could to get to know it. He juggled it, he dribbled it, he swerved it and he curled it.

He thought about what all the best players had in common. It was the fact that they were so comfortable with the ball that they hardly ever had to look at it. They had the ball under such close control that they could lift their heads up and see the picture of what was happening all over the pitch.

That's how good Jamie wanted to be when he went back to Kingfield. He wanted to get so close to the ball that no one would ever be able to separate them. Together, they could get him into the A team.

But soon there was a problem with the relationship. Jamie's attentions started to be drawn elsewhere.

Every day, on the pitch right next to where Jamie was practising, the same group of boys came and played a match of their own.

Although he tried to concentrate on his own routines, Jamie found himself spending more and more time watching their game instead of working on his control.

None of them knew who Jamie was but he knew who all of them were. They were the Kingfield First Eleven squad and they were doing their pre-season training.

It was weird; it was like Jamie was being hypnotized. He
had
to watch them.

It wasn't surprising though. On one pitch was a squad – including Danny Miller, the best player in the whole school – who were testing themselves to the limit in a fast-paced, competitive training session. Whereas on the next was Jamie, by himself, kicking the ball into an empty net.

They were sixteen and were cool. Jamie was thirteen and looked like he had no mates.

It was no contest.