I sat next to my parents in my designated seat about ten rows from the stage. This was so that when my name was called I’d have a distance to walk, thus giving me the opportunity to ham it up if I chose.

I wasn’t going to ham it up.

The other award winners were scattered among the audience, but the drama department (who were responsible for organising the whole evening) knew exactly where everyone was. When your name was called, a spotlight picked you out and followed your progress to the steps at the side of the stage.

I told you it was a big deal.

Any other year, I’d have taken the day off sick.

The rock band played against a backdrop of the Milltown’s Got Talent video. I’d had no idea anyone was filming the show, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Milltown has a thriving film and video department as well as a thriving drama department. Nonetheless, it was a shock to see excerpts of my Macbeth act mingled in with the other performances. A shock, but also … nice. There was no sound, of course, since the band was playing, but I reckoned I looked the business. Mind you, the drama department hadn’t exactly been hammering my metaphorical door down since the show.

The band finished, the audience shook their heads to get rid of the ringing and the ceremony began.

It starts with the youngest members of the school and works up to the seniors. This is fair and also practical. The juniors tend to say little; the entertainment usually comes from the seniors and their sometimes funny and sometimes annoying self-confidence. It took no time to get through Year Seven and then it was the turn of my year.

The first prize was for Greatest Academic Performance of Year Eight. The hosts tried to make a big deal of it, but they didn’t try too hard. Those of us towards the bottom of the school pile aren’t much interest to anyone, apparently. There was a backdrop of various scenes in classrooms – kids gazing into microscopes, sticking up their hands as a teacher asked a question, heads bent over books, rummaging around the library shelves – you get the idea.

‘And the winner is …’ The male school captain made a big deal of fumbling with the envelope while a drum roll played in the background. He finally pulled a card free. ‘Amit Singh,’ he shouted. There was wild applause and a spotlight hit the rows to my right. Everyone craned their necks to see. A very small boy got to his feet and walked towards the stage, head down. It was obvious to everyone he was going to stutter a terrified ‘Thanks’ before scuttling back to safety. The female school captain took a trophy from the table behind her and prepared to hand it to Amit. The boy stumbled getting up the steps but recovered in time. He took the trophy, which was almost as big as him, and approached the podium. The audience could barely see him over it and the male captain had to bend the microphone down towards his mouth.

‘Thanks,’ he mumbled. It was kinda weird, like a disembodied voice echoing around the hall.

He took a step away and then, obviously remembering something, returned. ‘Thank you, teachers of Milltown,’ he said. ‘I love you all.’

Everybody roared with laughter. You could feel a tide of affection rolling towards Amit as he made his way down the steps and back to his family. I watched his mum and dad. Pride radiated from them and I was almost blinded by it.

This was going to be a hard act to follow. But follow it I must, because I was next.

‘The following award is for Sports Personality of Year Eight,’ said the female school captain. They were obviously taking it in turns. Mum squeezed my hand, but I felt calm. Now the moment was upon me, I was okay with it. ‘There have been many examples of good sports personalities in Year Eight this year,’ she continued, ‘and here is a reminder of some of them.’

The stage darkened and the huge screen behind the presenters lit up once more. Basketball action, cross-country running, some half-hearted rugby tackles. And, mixed in with all of it, the soccer game against St Martin’s. In particular, me, Rob Fitzgerald, making save after save after save. I could tell by the way Mum squeezed my hand harder that she was impressed, maybe even startled, by what she saw. What was even more remarkable were the cheers and shouts that greeted my performance.

Finally, the video ended.

‘And the winner is …’ The school captain tore open the envelope and took out the card. ‘Well, this is a surprise,’ she said. ‘Who’d believe it? The winner is …’ She really drew out the pause, to the extent it became excruciating. Her eyes fixed on the audience and she took a deep breath.

‘Roberta Catherine Fitzgerald,’ she said. ‘But we know him better as Rob Fitzgerald.’

I stood and found myself in a bubble of blinding light.