T.J. and the Hat-trick (9 page)

It was the question they’d all been wanting to ask. But if Mr Wood replied they didn’t hear him. In a deafening roar, City kicked off.

C
HAPTER
16

RIGHT FROM THE
start it all went wrong for Wanderers. Every time one of their players received the ball, a City player was right on top of them, preventing them from passing, forcing them back. City had a small midfield player with spiky blond hair who was completely ruthless in the tackle.

‘Gary Devlin,’ Marshall said grimly as Devlin slid in to make yet another tackle and come away with the ball. ‘He’s a complete pain. We have to do something about him.’

But Devlin played a neat one-two with another City player and suddenly he was in
the
penalty area, driving towards the goal. A tall Wanderers central defender stretched out a leg as Marshall and Mr Wood both leaped to their feet yelling ‘NO!’ The defender missed the ball completely and Devlin went crashing to the ground. The referee blew his whistle and pointed to the penalty spot. The Wanderers players didn’t argue.

The ground fell silent as Chester Smith, the veteran City striker, stepped up to take the penalty. He gave the goalkeeper no chance, planting the ball firmly into the bottom corner, beyond the keeper’s outstretched fingers.

City were completely in charge. TJ watched with admiration as their players sprayed passes all around the pitch and the Wanderers players struggled to get hold of the ball.

When the teams left the field at the end of
the
first half, the City players applauded their fans, but the Wanderers players shook their heads and looked at the ground.

‘I wish I was playing,’ Marshall said. ‘I
hate
sitting up here, not being able to change anything.’

‘Why is Paco Sanchez playing out wide?’ asked Rob, looking up from his notebook. ‘It’s not his best position. He’s only touched the ball six times, but all his passes have been good.’

‘You’re right,’ Marshall said, looking curiously at Rob. ‘Paco hates playing out there. That’s where I should be, and Paco should be in the centre, just behind the strikers.’

‘Well,’ said Rob, ‘if I was the manager, I’d bring Dexter Gordon on to play wide. He’s been doing brilliantly in the reserves. And I’d put Paco back where he should be.’

Marshall shook his head. ‘He won’t do that,’ he said. ‘Not in a big game like this. Dexter’s only seventeen and he’s never even started a match in the Premier League.’

‘Well, look at that!’ Mr Wood said five minutes later as the teams came out of the tunnel. ‘Well done, Rob!’ The referee was holding up the substitutes board, and Dexter Gordon was preparing to come onto the pitch.

Paco Sanchez played exactly where Rob had suggested. As soon as a Wanderers
defender
won the ball, Sanchez was there, calling for it. Most of the time Gary Devlin was right on his heels, but Sanchez controlled every ball that was played to him so quickly that Devlin simply couldn’t tackle him without giving away a free kick. As TJ watched, Sanchez received the ball on the Wanderers left, just twenty metres from where they were sitting. Devlin lunged fiercely to try and win it, but Sanchez pulled the ball away so fast that Devlin’s boots crashed into his shin. ‘OFF . . . OFF . . . OFF . . .’ chanted the angry Wanderers fans.

The referee pulled the red card from his pocket and raised it high in the air. After a few moments, Paco Sanchez climbed stiffly to his feet.

‘You show them, Paco,’ Marshall yelled, and Paco looked up and waved, then grimaced as he put his weight on his leg. ‘He’ll be fine,’ Marshall said. ‘He’s
a
tough little guy.’

Paco soon ran off the effects of his injury, but something strange seemed to have happened. ‘It’s always hard against ten men,’ Mr Wood explained. ‘They’ve all pulled back to defend. They’re in the lead, after all.’

There seemed to be no space for the Wanderers forwards. Time after time they launched attacks only to find that there was no way through the packed City defence. Out on the wing, young Dexter Gordon controlled the ball and TJ heard spectators yelling at him. ‘Skin him, Dexter.’

‘Go on, lad, get forward!’

‘Take him on!’

But Dexter played a simple pass infield to Paco Sanchez, who spread the ball wide to the other side of the field. The crowd groaned.

‘It’s the right thing to do,’ Rob insisted. ‘Wanderers have to keep the ball and make
City
run around and chase it. That’s how to make the extra man count.’

Marshall laughed. ‘Who is your head coach exactly?’ he asked Mr Wood. ‘Is it you, or is it Rob?’

‘Yes!’ screamed Tulsi, nearly bursting TJ’s eardrum. ‘Go on!’

At last, Dexter had found some space, right in front of them, and he was racing down the line. Sanchez saw his chance and played the ball over the head of the last defender right into Dexter’s path.

Dexter hit his cross left-footed, curling away from the goalkeeper, and the centre
forward’s
head smashed the ball into the roof of the net. Dwight Fanshawe didn’t waste time on celebrations. He grabbed the ball and raced back to the centre circle, giving a thumbs-up to Dexter Gordon as he ran.

The display on the stand read 90.00. Down below them the fourth official held up a board.

‘Three minutes,’ said TJ. ‘Come on, Wanderers!’ he yelled.

The whole crowd was yelling now, urging Wanderers forward, but as the seconds ticked away, attack after attack came to nothing. There was time for just one, final attempt. Dexter Gordon hit a cross into the penalty area and the crowd groaned as the City keeper punched it clear. The ball fell towards the ground – and there was Paco Sanchez, waiting. There was no time for him to control it. TJ could see from the shape of
his
body what he was going to do.

The whole crowd held its breath. Paco’s boot intersected perfectly with the ball, and it rocketed towards the goal. There was a loud crack as it hit the inside of the post, flashed behind the keeper and nestled in the bottom of the net.

C
HAPTER
17

PACO SANCHEZ’S VOLLEY
kept repeating itself in TJ’s brain. That, and the way the crowd had reacted. He could still see Paco standing in front of the massive bank of cheering fans with his hands raised in the air and a huge smile on his face. It must be the greatest feeling in the world, TJ thought. And then he thought –
maybe one day that could be me
. It was the first time he had imagined anything like that. Maybe . . .

‘Hey, TJ,’ Mr Wood said. ‘Listen up! You were miles away!’

They were standing on the field. It was the
final
training session before their match against Hillside the following day.

‘As I was saying,’ Mr Wood continued. ‘Wanderers won that match by passing the ball and being patient.’

‘And by brilliant skill,’ TJ interrupted.

‘Sure, TJ,’ Mr Wood said. ‘But you can’t score a spectacular volley if your team doesn’t have the ball. Let’s make sure we know how to keep the ball once we have it. Passing and moving, that’s what I want you to do. Make it easy for whoever has the ball to pass it to you. Think about where the rest of the team are. Be ready to pass to them. OK. Let’s do it!’

TJ stood in front of the goal. He knew why he was fed up, but there was nothing he could do. He watched as the team began to play better than he’d ever seen them play before, passing the ball and calling to each other. Even Tulsi ran a few metres to make
space
for Rodrigo to pass to her, then turned and scored a great goal.

‘Not bad,’ Rob said. He was standing near TJ as usual. ‘We might even have a chance.’

‘I suppose,’ TJ said, kicking the goalpost that Mr Wood had just finished repairing.

‘What’s the matter?’ Rob asked.

‘Nothing.’

TJ kicked the post again, and then he heard Jamie yell. He glanced at the pitch and saw that Jamie had played a back pass. He flung himself across the goal, but he was too late, and the ball skidded past him into the net.

‘What were you doing?’ demanded Jamie.

‘You should have looked to see where I was,’ TJ told him crossly.

‘You should have been ready. You’re the goalkeeper, remember?’

‘That’s enough,’ Mr Wood said. ‘Anyone can make a mistake. Just remember to concentrate tomorrow, TJ.’

When training was over Mr Wood called them together. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘This is the team for the match. Tulsi, Tommy, Rodrigo, Rafi, Jamie, Danny and TJ. Subs will be Cameron, Ariyan and Jay. Play like that tomorrow and you’ll be a match for anyone. TJ, can you wait behind a minute? I want to talk to you.’

‘I’m sorry I messed up,’ TJ said as the others walked away, talking excitedly. ‘I wasn’t concentrating. I’ll be better tomorrow.’

‘It’s not that,’ Mr Wood said. ‘I’ve been watching you in training, TJ. You’re fast. You have excellent ball control. Your friend, Rob, tells me you have the best record of anyone for passes completed in the training exercises. So I just wondered – are you really sure you want to be a goalie? You didn’t look happy today. How about, once this match is out of the way, you have a try on the pitch?’

‘You mean it?’