Jamie couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen his dad for nine years and now, here they were, having dinner together.

His dad had asked him if he wanted to “grab a quick bite and have a chat”. At first Jamie hadn’t been sure, but then he’d thought to himself: what if he disappears again? I have to take this chance.

Now they were in the cafe together and Jamie was staring at his dad, who was eating his sandwich. Part of Jamie wished he could just come out with it and ask his dad what he’d been doing for the last nine years and why he’d left in the first place, but he didn’t want to ruin things – his dad was in a really good mood and Jamie was so excited to see him. He wanted to reach across the table and pinch him just to check that he was really there.

“So, I see your mum’s got a new man,” his dad said as he took a bite of his sandwich. “How’s everything at home?”

“OK, I guess,” said Jamie. It seemed so strange and yet so normal to be talking to his dad about stuff like this. “I s’pose the only problem is that I love football and I want to be a professional – but Mum and Jeremy just don’t . . . get it.”

“Tell me about it,” said his dad, squeezing some tomato ketchup on to his plate. “When I was your age, I was in a band with my mates. We were pretty good, could’ve done something maybe, but all my dad said was: ‘Give it up, get a proper job.’”

“That’s exactly what’s happening to me!” said Jamie. It was so good to talk to someone who actually understood what he was going through. He wondered what else he and his dad had in common.

“By the way,” said Jamie. “I’m playing in a massive game on Thursday. It’s the Interschool Cup Final . . . you should come and watch!”

Jamie wondered whether he’d said too much. He’d only just met his dad again. Was it too early to ask him to come along to a game?

“Oh, I know,” his dad said. “I read all about the Cup Final in the newspaper . . . I want to know more about your football; what position do you play?”

“Left wing,” said Jamie brightly. “I’m the quickest runner in the whole school.”

“Really?” Jamie’s dad’s eyes were sparkling with interest. “A left-winger . . . with natural pace,” he repeated.

“Yeah,” said Jamie, happy that his dad seemed to care. He was so different to Jeremy. “Scouts came to watch our last game, but the coach—”

“And you’re absolutely serious about wanting to be a professional?” his dad said, interrupting Jamie. “You know it’s not just about talent; it’s about dedication too. You have to really want it.”

“All I know is that I want it more than anything else in the world.”

“Well then,” his dad smiled. “Maybe I can help you.”

 

Jamie practically bounced out of the cafe. He was so happy.

His dad had said that he knew lots of people in football – people who made things happen in the game – and that he’d see what he could do; see if he could help Jamie to get a deal with a club.

Jamie couldn’t believe it. It was beyond his wildest dreams.

“Thank you so much,” he’d said. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He couldn’t wait to tell everyone – especially Dillon!

“Don’t thank me yet – nothing’s actually happened,” his dad had said. “Look, you concentrate on your football, leave the rest to me. We’ll talk after the Cup Final.”

Jamie surfed home on a wave of joy. A huge current of hope coursed through his veins.

Not only had his dad finally come back into his life but he was also going to help make Jamie’s dream of becoming a professional footballer into a reality.

At last, Jamie thought to himself, everything seemed to be falling into place.

And just in time, too – in three days, he would be playing in the biggest match of his life.