“Great save, Joe!” cried Brad, the new Westgate captain. “Magic!”
The goalkeeper was new too. Joe picked himself up and grinned. His performances in the cross country had given him more confidence, which had been boosted further by his selection for the County Cup tournament.
Rajesh had decided not to play for the school any more. The loss of the captaincy was a big blow to his self-esteem and his reputation, making him even more surly.
“You won’t stand a chance without me in goal,” he told the other footballers. “I was the star at Divali.”
“Yeah, till Josh turned up,” Anil retorted.
“Huh! It was only my saves that kept us in it.”
Rajesh had wanted Anil to desert the school team, too, and play just for their Sunday League club, but Anil had refused, much to Rajesh’s fury. It seemed that he could not even tell members of his old gang what to do now.
The former captain had not travelled with them into the city to the County Ground to watch the Sevens, much to everyone else’s relief. They were not missing him. Joe had been outstanding in their group games, one of the main reasons that they had qualified for the semi-finals.
Another star of the team was Leela, who had scored in every match. She had not managed to do so yet in this one, but went close in their next attack. Her shot eluded the keeper’s dive, but the ball bobbled just wide of the target.
“Bad luck!” called out Brad from his position in the middle of the defence, clapping his hands in encouragement. “So close!”
“Next one will go in,” shouted Brad’s father in support. “You’ll see.”
He was right – and wrong. Unfortunately, the ball went in their own net instead, with Joe beaten for only the second time that morning.
“Oh, dear!” sighed Mr Blyton. “We’re in trouble now.”
The players’ parents were equally worried. There was a big crowd for this important occasion – including one man on the touchline that not even his own son would have recognized.
“What the hell are you doing here?” demanded Matthew’s mother.
Her ex-husband whirled round at the sound of her voice.
“Might ask you the same question,” he said with a smirk. “You were never a sports fan.”
“I am now – of my son’s sports,” she retorted.
“Well, that’s why I’m here too,” he told her. “I saw his name and picture in the paper after the cross-country, rang up the school and found out about this tournament.
“They had no right to tell you.”
“Maybe not, but I’m glad they did,” he grinned. “Didn’t know Matt was so talented.”
“Well that just proves he don’t take after you, then!” she snapped and stalked off round the pitch to stand well way from him.
The half-time whistle had blown for drinks of water and to allow the teachers a chance to give their players a few words of encouragement.
“It’s only one-nil,” said Mr Blyton. “No need to panic. Just keep playing the way you have all morning and we can still win this game.”
Although Josh seemed his usual self and had scored even more goals than Leela, the teacher kept checking to make sure the boy was in no pain.
“How’s the ankle, Joshua?”
He received the same simple answer as before.
“OK.”
Mr Blyton smiled. He knew that the next thing he said would have a far more enthusiastic response. “Good – because someone has just arrived who I’m sure would love to see you at your best.”
“Who’s that?”
“Ossie Williams!”
“Uncle Ossie!” Josh cried. “Where?”
The teacher pointed towards the changing rooms where the tables were already set up for the later presentation of the trophy and medals. Josh saw his dad first and then spotted Uncle Ossie surrounded by a group of autograph hunters.
“Da! Uncle!” he shouted in excitement.
They both waved back to him, but there was no time to talk. The referee was waiting to get the second half underway.
Inspired by their presence, Josh turned on some of that ‘Ossie Magic’, just as Mr Blyton hoped. He demanded the ball at every opportunity to show off all his skills.
“That’s the way, Joshie-Boy!” cried Ossie, who was now on the touch-line.
The star’s presence seemed to affect the other team, too. Whenever Josh had the ball, they seemed to freeze, unsure what to do, allowing him as much time and space as he needed.
He set up the equalizer by cleverly back-heeling the ball to the unmarked Anil, who had moved upfield to support an attack, and the defender lashed in his first goal of the season.
Matthew was the next to benefit from Josh’s skills. The striker sprinted past his marker to receive his friend’s perfectly weighted pass, taking it in his stride and shooting firmly past a helpless goalkeeper to put Westgate 2-1 ahead.
“Good goal, Matthew!” cried his mother.
“That’s my boy!” shouted his father, shaking his fists in the air in delight.
Josh ran up to Matthew and ruffled his hair. “Who’s that guy over there, doing his nut?”
Matthew glanced across to the touch-line and then shook his head. “No idea. Never seen him b..before.”
“Well he seems to know you all right.”
Matthew gave a shrug. “Let’s just get on with the game.”
The result was no longer in doubt. Time soon ran out and the referee blew his whistle to confirm Westgate’s victory.
“Put your coats on and keep warm,” Mr Blyton told his players. “There will be a bit of time to wait yet before the Final, but don’t go wandering off.”
Josh ran over to greet his dad and uncle. “I didn’t even know you’d be here,” he grinned.
“Sure glad we made it in time,” said Da. “We got lost!”
Ossie laughed. “You were the one readin’ the map, man. Nearly missed seein’ Joshie-Boy run rings round all them other kids!”
“What about United?”
“Oh, we’re not playin’ till tomorrow, Joshie-Boy. Boss gave us the day off.”
“Ossie’s already been nabbed,” Da chuckled.
“How d’you mean?” asked Josh.
“Soon as we turned up, he got asked if he’d present the cup,” Da told him. “You’ll have to win it now so he can give it to you!”
“I’m not the skipper, Da,” Josh reminded him.
“Yeah, well, you and Ossie can still have your picture took with the cup for the papers.”
Matthew was also having his own family reunion, but this one wasn’t so pleasant.
“Well played, son,” said the man who had come up to him near the pitch.
“Thanks,” he replied and made to move away.
“You don’t recognise me, do you?”
Matthew looked at him. “Should I?”
“Hasn’t your mother showed you any pictures of me?”
“Sorry, I don’t talk to strangers,” he said, a little puzzled by the question.
“Quite right too – but I’m your dad!”
Matthew was stunned. “Dad?”
His identity was confirmed when Matthew’s mother came running across the pitch to reach them.
“What d’yer think you’re doing?” she cried.
“Just speaking to our son. What’s wrong with that?”
“Plenty! You’ve got no right to...”
“Course I have, woman. He’s my son too.”
“And a fat lot of interest you’ve shown in him all these years.”
Their argument raged around Matthew, leaving him quite bewildered. “Stop it, b..both of you,” he pleaded. “I just want to p..play footb..ball.
Dad stared at him. “Have you got a stutter?”
“See!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t even know that, did you?”
Matthew left them to it and escaped to the safety of the changing area where Brad was sitting on one of the benches near a radiator.
“What’s up, Matt? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Matthew nodded, white-faced. “I have,” he muttered, still shaking with the shock. “I’ve just m..met m..my dad.”
“What’s so bad about that?” he asked and then remembered that Matthew only lived with his mother. “Oh, yeah, right. Was it bad?”
Matthew pulled a face. “Not good.”
“Right, come on back outside with me,” the captain told him, standing up. “I know the best way to put that kind of stuff out of your mind. Let’s go and kick a ball about and get ready for the Final.”
