“That was incredible!”

“Not just incredible. Amazing!”

“It was the best goal I’ve ever seen outside of the Premier League and the World Cup!”

“What, the second goal? Or the third?”

“I thought the fourth was the best!”

“Yes, the way he caught the ball on the back of his neck, before flicking it up on to his head and knocking it down for a left-foot volley! That was the best one!”

Fred just smiled, listening to the things the ten other boys in the Bracket Wood First XI were saying as they carried him aloft on their shoulders off the pitch. He could hear the applause and cheering of lots of others, the rest of the school in fact, who were standing on the touchline.

“I can’t believe we’ve finally beaten Geary Road!”

“Seven-nil!”

“They haven’t even beaten us by that much. Ever!”

“Well, they beat us eight-nil last year …”

“Not the same.”

“This means we’re in the final!”

“Yes! The Bracket Wood and Surrounding Area Inter-school Winter Trophy final!”

“Yes! All because of Fred!”

“Oh no,” said Fred, shaking his head in a way that:

a) wasn’t believable

and

b) made the boy underneath him – who was called Prajit, and who despite being the goalie wasn’t actually the biggest player on the team – wobble dangerously for a moment.

“It’s a team game.”

“It is a team game,” said Mr Barrington, suddenly appearing – because Fred was on Prajit’s shoulders – at eye level. Up close, his eyes looked enormous through his enormous lenses. It was, Fred thought, like having a staring match with a fish in a tracksuit.

“But there’s simply no doubt that your individual performance was the best I’ve ever seen. I knew I was right to put you on the team, even for a game as important as this – a semi-final.

“It’s a flash in the pan, some said after your trial. Others said, I don’t understand it – he’s always been rubbish before, but I said, No! There’s a young footballer with real class, who could make a real difference to our team, and it was because of that I decided that you were—”

“Mr Barrington?”

“Yes, Fred?”

“No, that wasn’t me speaking. It was Prajit.”

Mr Barrington looked down. “Ah yes, Prajit. What is it?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m about to fall over.”

“All right, Prajit. I’ve nearly finished. Surely you can hold on for another two minutes.”

“Um … OK.”

Mr Barrington looked back up. “What I really wanted to say, Fred, was that you are, without any doubt, the most improved player I have ever seen. How on earth have you done it?”

All the faces on the team looked up at Fred. His face, though, wasn’t looking back at them. It was pointing in another direction, towards the crowd where, among all the boys and girls waving Bracket Wood scarves, he could see Ellie. She was doing a thumbs up with her right hand. In her left hand, he could see, she was still holding the Controller. When she saw him looking at her, she raised that up too, so that both her hands were in the air.

“Well …” said Fred.

“Speak up,” said Mr Barrington. “I think the whole school should share in this moment. The whole school should know exactly what it was that made you suddenly such a great player. I would like you to speak up and tell us exactly how you did it.”