“Come on referee!” Calum and his friend Mr Aziz shouted at the screen.
They were standing in Mr Aziz’s shop watching Scotland play on the shopkeeper’s big flat-screen television. Leighton, Calum’s dog, showed his disgust at the decision by barking. They all knew that barking wouldn’t do much good, but the pressure was on. Scotland needed a win to qualify for next summer’s tournament.
Scotland’s coach is making a gamble – he’s bringing on the uncapped striker from King’s Park Athletic, James Cauldfield, as a replacement.
Calum’s frustration turned to joy as his favourite player stood, puffing his cheeks out, ready to come on.
James Cauldfield was a local hero. He was born in Caleytown, had gone to Calum’s school and was now the top goalscorer at King’s Park Athletic – the club everyone in Caleytown supported.
“Hey ‘Caleytown’s gifted number nine’, did I miss much?” said Leo as he burst through the shop door with a soggy piece of paper in his hand. His afro was shining from the light drizzle outside.
“James Cauldfield is coming on for his Scotland debut!” said Calum.
“Sweet!” said Leo.
“Caleytown’s gifted number nine?” Mr Aziz asked.
Leo waved the piece of paper he was holding in the air. “It’s from our Muckleton match report. A blogger on Scotland Stars F.C. is a big Calum Ferguson fan!”
On the TV, James Cauldfield was now battling in the rain, trying to break the deadlock for Scotland. Leo started to read out the match report. All the players at school were obsessed with the Scotland Stars F.C. website. Leo grimaced when he got to the bit about their teammate Jordan.
“…Jordan McPride gave Caleytown hope in the dying seconds of the first half with a deflected goal…”
“A total fluke,” said Calum.
“Well jammy,” agreed Leo, before carrying on with the report. “…Hope soon turned to excitement when Leo Nkwanu danced down the sideline to wow the crowds with some stellar footwork and set Calum Ferguson up for the equaliser.”
Calum and Leo grinned at each other and high-fived.
Leo continued, “…No one could have guessed that Caleytown’s gifted number nine would b—”
“Penalty!” shouted Mr Aziz, pointing at the screen above them.
The boys turned to look. With the score at 0–0, and the clock deep into injury time, James Cauldfield was face-down on the ground with the soles of his yellow boots in the air. An opposition defender held his hands up – he looked like he feared the worst.
The referee jogged into the box and pointed to the penalty spot.
Mr Aziz, Leo and Calum all turned to each other with crazy grins on their faces. This was it! A golden chance for Scotland to sneak a win.
James Cauldfield’s got the ball in his hands. He’s going to take this vital penalty on his Scotland debut. What guts he has, this young kid from… erm… Caleytown.
Leo turned to Calum, “He just said ‘Caleytown’!”
“I know!”
Mr Aziz shushed the boys and a hush fell over the shop. All you could hear was the low buzz of the fridges.
…James Cauldfield is placing the ball for what will surely be the last kick of the game…
…He’s waiting for the Swiss referee to blow his whistle.
PEEEEP!
James Cauldfieeeeeeeld SCORES! Scotland win!
SCOTLAND WIN!
“YAAAAAASSSSS!” Leo and Calum jumped up and down and hugged. Mr Aziz shook both his fists above his head so hard that his moustache jiggled. Leighton barked.
“Excuse me, are you still open?” An older woman stood at the shop door with a puzzled look on her face.
Mr Aziz fixed his hair and clothes. “Of course we are, madam. My apologies.”
