Fisk trudged off. The Hoods had smelt blood. Even if it was their own, it fired them up. Half-time couldn’t come soon enough.
I looked at my own blood, seeping through the bandage around my knee.
‘Get up and move!’ Mr Zucker yelled at me. ‘I don’t want that stiffening up.’
Fisk took my seat.
As I started jogging, there was another roar from the crowd. Paisley had given away a free just outside the penalty box and the referee was rushing in again, all arms and legs, pointing to the penalty spot.
‘No way!’ I screamed. I turned to Mr Zucker. He had his arms crossed and was shaking his head slowly.
The tall kid called Totem lined up for the spot kick.
‘Watch his hips, Jules,’ I murmured to myself. But Jules stayed frozen to the spot, paralysed by the crowd and the Hoods players staring at him and yelling abuse. The ball rifled past him.
A minute later, they scored another goal, and the crowd was in a frenzy.
3 – 2.
‘Time, ref!’ Mr Zucker called, pointing to his watch.
‘I’m playing time-on,’ he yelled back.
‘We’ve never played time-on,’ Mr Zucker muttered to Mr Bronsen. We held on for what seemed like ages, the Hoods dominating possession, until finally the referee blew half-time.
‘A thirty-eight minute half,’ Mr T muttered. ‘Did someone die out there or something?’
Mr Zucker made plenty of changes for the second half. I was in goals, Jules playing striker. Alex went into the midfield. Mr Zucker chatted to Mr T for a moment, then turned back to us.
There was fear in the group. You could sense it. There were Sandhurst kids who didn’t want to go back out there, and Mr Zucker knew it.
‘We’re down to ten men, but we’re still a goal up. The momentum for them is over. You need to start this half like you started the first. In control. But this time you have to control it all up here’ – he was pointing to his head – ‘as well as down on the pitch. Don’t grizzle, don’t grumble, and don’t groan about anything. You are a wonderful team. You are a better side than they are. Now grit your teeth, talk to each other and go out there and play the game of your life!’
We yelled our support and jogged out to meet our fate.
Mr Zucker was right. The Hoods had lost a bit of their momentum after the halftime break. Neither team got that close to the goals in the first twenty minutes. Even the crowd had settled down. Alex was working hard, and Paisley and Jules were also starting to dominate.
But against the run of play, and with our defence pushing up, a little Hoods guy who had snuck out wide on his own got a long pass from their defence.
I yelled out for the defence to get back, but we were caught out badly. He was racing towards goal, elbows flying, dribbling the ball in front of him.
I crouched low and watched him closely. Just as he was approaching the penalty box, I screamed to try and drown out the crowd’s noise and went for him. I dived out at the ball just as he released his shot. The ball thudded into my body, and a moment later the kid was ramming a boot into me before flying over me in a dramatic dive.
The referee blew his whistle. Relief flooding through me, I struggled to my feet to grab the ball, which had bounced a few metres away to the right. But the referee was pointing to the penalty spot.
‘That was a clean save,’ I yelled at him.
‘Don’t you shout at me, and don’t you shout at any player, either. Penalty!’
The referee put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a yellow card. He pointed it at me, then at the crowd. I couldn’t believe it.
I looked towards our bench.
‘Do what you do best, Mitch,’ Mr Zucker called out, his face hard and determined. Shaking my head in anger and frustration, I hobbled back to the goal line. Totem was going to take the kick again.
I looked back to the bench. Fisk was standing there staring at me. He tapped a finger at his eye, then again on his hip. Then he nodded and clenched a fist.
I focused all my attention on Totem’s body. He placed the ball down carefully, all the time staring at me with a stupid grin on his face. He moved one pace back.
‘You right, goalie?’ the referee asked me.
‘Great,’ I replied. For an awful moment I thought he was going to pull out another card, but all he did was point at it and smile. A toothy, gold smile!
I stared in amazement.
There was a shout from somewhere and I looked up to see the ball flying towards me. I side-stepped and then flung myself off the ground, arms stretched to their fullest. I was airborne and parallel to the ground when the ball smashed into my right hand. I caught enough of it to make it deviate slightly from its course. Instead of finding net, the ball thudded into the post and rebounded, to my horror, straight back to Totem. I scrambled to my feet, took a few long strides forward and again flew into the air, this time straight at Totem.
His foot and my body must have hit the ball at the same time. The power of his shot drove the ball into me and knocked the wind out of my chest. I clung onto the ball, gasping for air. I didn’t care at that moment if the referee banned me for life. I just wanted air.
I sucked feebly at nothing; desperate, short gasps. Slowly, I started to regain a sense of calm as the choking and rasping gave way to breathing.
Someone was trying to prise the ball from me, but I wasn’t letting go.
‘For heaven’s sake, give the lad the ball and let’s get on with it,’ the referee was saying.
‘It’s our kick?’ I coughed, hardly believing it.
‘So hurry up and take it, or I’ll take it from you!’ he barked.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered.
‘Great save, Grady. I’ll take the kick. You okay?’ asked Paisley, taking the ball.
‘Yep. Just belt it out of here,’ I wheezed through clenched teeth, my lungs still working overtime to suck in some air.
‘You bet,’ he said, as he thumped it out over the half line.
Amid a frenzy of noise and abuse, we hung on for the remaining ten minutes – plus the extra time, of course – to win the game. After five goals in the first half, neither side managed to score in the second half.
Mr Zucker insisted that we shake hands with the Hoods, but the only player who shook my hand was the little guy whose shot I had blocked when he ran at me.
‘Good game, mate!’ He grinned at me. ‘You’re a legend goalie!’
He walked off, whistling.
‘Hey!’ I shouted. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Rat,’ he replied, turning back. ‘Why?’
‘I dunno. Good game, hey?’
‘Yeah. You got that Legends thing at your school, don’t you?’
‘Yep,’ I said. ‘It’s awesome.’
‘My dad reckons sport is all I’m good for and he says that a kid left your school so there’s a spot there for someone. He reckons it could be me but I’d get lynched by Totem and Leech and the guys for jumping ship and–’
Rat hadn’t drawn a breath.
‘It’s a good school, Rat.’
‘Yeah, well basketball’s me best sport, so I might stay here for that,’ he said, kicking at the dirt.
‘Or come over and be the Legend of Basketball at our school,’ I said.
‘Yeah, could do that.’ He grinned at me. ‘Thanks.’