Fred faced the Oakcroft keeper. Who was looking VERY tall. Fred remembered reading that, as a child, Lionel Messi had been given growth-hormone treatment by Barcelona because he was too small and wondered, in this moment, if the Oakcroft keeper should not have been given whatever the reverse treatment was.

A hush descended on the ground. A shard of light from the late afternoon sun glinted off one of the handles of the Fringe Benefits Bracket Wood and Surrounding Area Inter-school Winter Trophy, still there behind the goal.

Fred suddenly felt nervous. Knowing the Controller was back in action had really bucked him up at the top of the second half, but now, faced with this monster in goal – and everyone in the school looking at him, relying on him to do well – the butterflies grew in his stomach to the point where it felt like there was a whole hothouse full of them in there.

His eyes searched the Bracket Wood supporters’ end. Where was she? Had she gone again?

But no: there she was. Ellie. Holding the Controller above her head, her fingers poised on the control stick and buttons, her eyes burning.

What are you going to make me do? he mouthed.

And she mouthed back: The cleverest, trickiest, most awe-inspiring move ever!!!

Fred smiled; he felt the butterflies in his stomach all flutter down and settle. He turned back to the giant keeper, who had put both his arms out to make himself even bigger, and who appeared now to be … snarling. He was a snarling, arms-out giant. Fred turned round and walked away from the ball.

Bracket Wood supporters in the crowd – and his team-mates, standing with their arms linked on the centre line – whispered to each other.

“Oh my God! He’s bottled it!”

“Please don’t go back to the changing room, Fred!”

“OH NO!”

Whereas Oakcroft supporters in the crowd – and their team, also standing on another section of the centre line with their arms linked – said loudly: “Ha ha! He’s bottled it!”

“He’s walking back to the changing room, the big nerd!”

“OH YES!!”

The referee looked a bit confused. He was just about to blow the whistle, awarding the game to Oakcroft,^fn1 when Fred stopped walking, bent his legs and … threw his body backwards!

“BACKFLIP!!!” shouted the Bracket Wood supporters.

Yes! It was! He backflipped not once, not twice, but three times, throwing the Oakcroft keeper, who had been smirking in derision at Fred’s retreating back, into confusion. He looked away, towards his team-mates, which was a mistake, as that was the point during Fred’s last backflip that he twirled in the air to face forward, brought his right foot back and then swung it hard towards the ball, landing and connecting at the same time.

“OY!!!”

“DON’T LOOK AT US, LOOK AT THE BALL!”

“WATCH OUT!!”

These were just some of the things shouted at the keeper by the Oakcroft contingent. But, even if he hadn’t been looking the wrong way, the keeper probably wouldn’t have got to the ball in time because the momentum of three backflips coming through Fred’s right foot sent it hard, fast and direct into the back of the net.