“I have some important news,” announced Mr Smith at the end of Monday morning assembly. Then he broke into a broad smile. “We’re safe!”
Most of the pupils did not understand what the headteacher meant, until he asked the members of the soccer squad to stand up and receive a special round of applause.
“Well done,” he said. “I can confirm that the point we gained from our draw at the weekend means that we are now safe from relegation.”
Mr Smith told the players to wait in the hall while everyone else filed back to their classrooms, and Nails pushed his way towards Jake, who was next to Ollie.
“Knew all along we’d be OK,” he grinned, slapping his brother on the back.
“So much for what that Connor was trying to make out,” grunted Jake.
“Typical of Connor,” said Ollie. “Soz, guys – that’s what he’s like, I’m afraid.”
“No sweat, Timber,” Nails told him. “All the more reason for stuffin’ his lot in the Final on Sat’day. Y’know, shut him up, like.”
“Yeah, then he won’t bother you any more,” Jake assured him. “He’ll be history!”
Mr Smith had decided that the footballers would benefit from extra match practice and told them that he had arranged a midweek friendly against a school from the nearby village of South Bringworth.
“They beat us in the league, remember, so they’ll give us a good game,” he said, “and it will also help me to decide who will play in the Final. For example, I’m going to give Anil and Simon half the game each in goal.”
The two keepers glanced at each other and Simon sensed Anil’s disappointment – or resentment. He wasn’t quite sure which, but it gave him an idea. “After all, it’s only a friendly,” he told himself.
Simon guessed that all the keen young footballers in his own class would give anything to be in his boots but, deep down, he knew that he would quite happily let anyone borrow them and take his place.
The following day, the teamsheet was pinned up on the sports noticeboard, showing Simon starting in goal, and it caused much surprise and confusion.
“Dunno what old Smiffy’s playin’ at,” grunted Nails, jabbing a finger at the piece of paper. “Is he havin’ some kind of joke, or what?”
Jake was equally baffled – and annoyed. His own name was among those who would be coming on at half-time. As the school’s top goal-scorer, he had never been one of the substitutes before.
“He must’ve picked nearly the whole squad,” he grumbled. “That’s just stupid.”
“Dead right. If he don’t know what his best team is by now, he never will.”
The trouble was, Mr Smith was not at all sure that he actually had a best team. Performances this season had been inconsistent, which was why Redfield had come so close to relegation. He was still amazed that they had somehow managed to reach the Cup Final.
On Wednesday, it did not take South Bringworth long to show why they had finished near the top of the league table. Their passing was quick and slick and they were slicing through the makeshift Reds’ defence with ease, keeping Simon busy. He started well enough, handling the ball cleanly and pulling off two good saves, but then seemed to make little real effort to stop another shot from going past him into the net.
“What happened there?” Nails demanded.
Simon responded with a shrug.
“I was unsighted,” he said as an excuse. “Didn’t see the ball till it was too late.”
There was no time for Nails to argue. The wave of attacks continued and even the captain was struggling to keep them at bay, often finding himself with more than one opponent to mark. Five minutes later, he chose the wrong one and the other was free to control the ball and then place his shot wide of Simon’s half-hearted dive.
Things went from bad to worse after that, apart from a neatly-taken goal by Katie. Simon let two more goals in and the Reds found themselves on the wrong end of a 4-1 scoreline at half-time.
“What’s up with you, Zero?” snapped Nails. “Smiffy won’t think much of that.”
The headteacher did not say anything to Simon. He was too busy reorganising the team, bringing on all the substitutes for the second half, as intended. Both Ollie and Sadiq were rested, too – neither had been able to make much impression on the game.
“Good luck!” Simon said, as Anil pulled on his gloves nearby.
Anil looked at him almost suspiciously. “You really mean that?”
“Sure. You’ve played all the Cup games, so you should be in goal for the Final too.”
“Up to Smithy.”
Simon grinned. “I think you’ll be OK now, after my display today.”
Jake came up to him as Anil trotted off towards the goal. “I know what you were up to there. I was watching you closely. You were hardly trying.”
Simon made no effort to deny it.
“Don’t know whether you’re crazy or lazy!” Jake muttered, before he took the field. “Just don’t say anything to Nails, or he’ll batter you.”
Jake led the Reds’ fightback in the second half, scoring a goal himself and making another for Ryan, but sandwiched between these was a fifth strike for South Bringworth, who ran out 5-3 winners. Anil played well enough, though Nails still blamed him for not preventing the final goal which killed off any hopes they might have had of gaining a draw.
Nails grumbled all the way home.
“Anil was too slow comin’ off his line,” he told Jake, as Simon trailed along behind them. “Reckon he’s scared of gettin’ hurt if he dives at some kid’s feet.”
“Well, they say that all goalies are crazy – if they’re any good,” Jake replied, turning to catch Simon’s eye. “So Anil can’t be much cop.”
“Guess we’ll just have to put up with him in the Final,” Nails sighed. “Smiffy won’t risk Zero now, the way he played. He was rubbish!”
“I am still here, you know,” said Simon. “I can hear what you’re saying about me.”
“Good,” grunted Nails. “So you know you’ve gone and blown yer chances today.”
“Don’t care.”
Nails swung round. “Don’t care?” he repeated, fuming. “Well it’s about time you did, Zero, ’cos you’re lettin’ us down.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, us – yer family, yer teammates and yer school.”
Nails strode off, leaving his brothers behind.
“If I were you, Si, I’d keep out of his way when we get home and let him cool down a bit,” said Jake. “And let me give you one more piece of advice.”
“What’s that?”
“Start caring.”