ou wrestle Alex off, shouting, ‘No, no, the team needs me!’ Alex walks slowly away. But you don’t care. Well you do a bit, but you’re the complete football fan: nothing means more to you than Norths winning this match. There’s a huge roar from the crowd and you leap back up onto the seat, stepping on your meat pie and knocking over your can of soft drink. For a moment you can’t work out what happened. The players are shaking hands; half the crowd is cheering and the other half have their heads in their hands. And you realise the sad truth.

During your brief moment with Alex, the player had his kick and scored the goal. Norths have lost the premiership and it’s all your fault.

Sadly you pick up your team scarf and walk away. It’s terrible. You feel like a real loser.

You get outside the ground and to your amazement, there’s Alex, leaning against a tree and watching you. You rush over there. ‘I’m sorry,’ you say, ‘but they needed all the help I could give them.’

Alex shrugs. ‘I don’t know about that. But I figure there’s five months to go before the next football season, and that gives me five months to persuade you that there are some things in life more important than footie.’

‘You’re welcome to try,’ you reply, with a big smile, and the two of you walk away, hand in hand.