There’s nothing like a new day to turn things around. I’d explained my decision at home, and was gearing up to tell Mr T the same. I was pulling out of the Football Legend competition. But recess changed everything.

‘It’s true,’ Bubba was saying. ‘We overheard every word. Fisk reckons he’s sucked you in a beauty. He knew he was close to the edge with Jack and his bruised ribs. There’s no way he was going to do any more. He was just going to have to try and beat you fair and square. He even said it was against his nature and better judgement.’

‘Bryce?’ I asked. ‘This true?’

‘Absolutely, Mitch.’

‘Where? How?’ I needed all the details.

‘Class. This morning. He’s not a fool, Mitch. He’s won. Unless you get back in there and fight.’

‘Fight?’

‘Play.’

Bryce pulled out his mobile phone. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen it. He held it out to me.

‘Ring home.’

I must have looked a bit confused.

‘Your gear, Mitch. Boots? Jumper? Socks? The ugly plastic thing that goes in your mouth?’

‘That’s a mouthguard, Bryce. You need it so–’

‘Later, Bubba. Mitch here needs to make a call.’

‘– you don’tgetyourteethknockedout,’ gabbled Bubba, looking pleased with himself.

‘Okay, I’ll make the call. But listen, there’s something I’ve got to tell you. Something that Fisk said. He knows about–’

‘The call, Mitch.’ Bryce was looking impatient.

‘Okay,’ I sighed.

There was still no sign of Jack. His ribs must have been pretty bad for him to miss another day of school.

The match against Ascot College, over at their school, was the best game I’d ever played in.

Their whole school turned out. It was like a carnival. It was obviously a pretty big event for Ascot College. The ground was fantastic. It was like playing on a green carpet. And the players seemed okay, too, though we didn’t talk much.

Fisk seemed a bit shocked to see me. ‘I thought you’d quit,’ he hissed at me.

‘No such luck,’ I replied.

‘You’re gonna regret this, Grady,’ he spat at me with a sneer.

I knew the game would be close, right from the start. For three quarters, there was never more than seven points between us. Mr T was right. They were fast and skilful. But we were better in the air.

They had one huge advantage, though. A brilliant full-forward. He kicked six of their nine goals in the first three quarters. We’d tried a few different defenders on him, including both Fisk and Mazis. They had done okay, but he’d still managed to sneak away on a few leads. The timing of his leads was perfect and their running players were hitting him on the chest, every time.

I had avoided Fisk for most of the game. Besides, he always got very focused in a game.

‘It’s your turn, Mitchell,’ Mr T was saying to me at three-quarter time. ‘I want you at fullback. Stick to him like glue. Don’t play him from behind. I’ll try and get Chaz to double team, or at least try and come across his leads. But it’s going to be up to you. You give us the quarter of your life and we’ll win this game. Remember, glue!’

There was plenty of noise as we took up our positions for the last quarter.

‘Another new opponent,’ the Ascot full-forward said to me as I approached him in the goal square. ‘Coach getting a bit desperate, hey?’

‘Nah, just figures it’s about time you went a quarter without a kick.’

He smiled at me and stuck out a hand. ‘Good luck.’

I smiled back. ‘Yeah, you too.’

We started jostling. I love footy!

He was a right-footer so I decided to play on the right of him and try and push him to the left side of the goals. Within a minute, an Ascot player was charging through the middle. The full-forward went one way, then spun back and charged away to the right.

I stayed as close as I could. A flat drop-punt came skimming towards us. I thrust an arm out just as the ball was about to thud into his belly. My fist caught the ball full on and it rebounded back towards our halfback line where Jimmy Paisley mopped up and belted it forward.

We scored a point from that play. Then, after an intercept from the kick-in, Mazis swooped on the loose ball and slotted through a major to put us in front by two points. The next ten minutes went by with a goal for us and a goal and a behind for Ascot. The kid I was playing on still hadn’t touched the ball, let alone had a kick. But that soon changed.

A few moments later, a high ball was floating toward us in front of the goal square. Fisk was doubling back into the pack. Together we blocked the full-forward. The umpire’s whistle screeched. No one had marked the ball, so I knew what was coming.

Sure enough, the umpire was telling Fisk that he’d illegally blocked out my opponent. Fisk shook his head in disgust as he stood on the mark with both arms stretched up in the air.