Starting Eleven

by Bali Rai

  ‘Can you come out for a bit?’ he asked in a whisper.

  ‘Why are you whispering?’

  ‘Can you?’ he repeated.

  ‘I’ll have to ask . . .’

  My dad looked at his watch when I asked him. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘With Chris,’ I told him. ‘He’s in the hallway.’

  Dad got up and walked out into the hallway with me.

  ‘It’s OK, Mr Singh,’ Chris said when my dad asked him where we were going. ‘It’s just over to the church – my mum wants us to help with fundraising and there’s a quick meeting today. It’ll be over by seven-thirty . . .’

  ‘Oh,’ said my dad, smiling. ‘That’s a great idea. Something worthwhile for you layabouts to do. It’ll stop you playing on those silly computers, won’t it? Just make sure you both get home on time, OK?’

  ‘Thanks, Dad!’ I beamed.

  ‘And call me if you need a lift,’ he said.

  ‘OK,’ I replied as I followed Chris out of the front door.

  I waited until we were three houses away before I pulled my best friend up.

  ‘What are you on about?’ I asked. ‘What fundraising?’

  Chris grinned. ‘Relax,’ he told me. ‘We’re going to help a good cause. Our cause.’

  He didn’t say anything else until we got to the end of the road. Abs and Jason were waiting there for us. They looked as puzzled as me.

  ‘This better be good,’ Abs warned Chris.

  ‘My mum didn’t want me to come so I had to get my dad to say yes.’

  ‘Yeah,’ added Jason. ‘My mum isn’t happy either. I have to be home for seven-thirty dead on . . .’

  Chris pulled the backpack off his shoulders. It was black with two red straps. He unzipped it and pulled out a roll of posters. As the rest of us looked at each other, he unrolled the posters and showed one to us. It was handwritten, in huge letters, and then scanned and photocopied . . .

  I shook my head. ‘Are you bonkers?’ I asked Chris.

  ‘It’ll work,’ he said. ‘All we have to do is put these up all over the place and half the lads won’t turn up until it’s too late.’

  Abs started laughing.

  ‘What if they don’t see the poster?’ asked Jason.

  ‘If only five of them see it, that’s five less people to compete against,’ Chris said.

  You’re stupid!’ Abs told him.

  ‘Well, I don’t see you doing anything to help,’ Chris said back. He looked a bit hurt.

  I looked at the poster again and felt the familiar knot in my stomach. I had to make the final team, but this wasn’t the way we were supposed to do it.

  ‘We could try it,’ I heard myself say. ‘I mean, the trial is tomorrow so it might not even work, but what’s the harm in trying?’

  Jason looked unsure. ‘It’s a bit like cheating though, isn’t it?’ he asked.

  ‘How?’ asked Chris.

  ‘Well, we should be in the starting eleven because we’re the best ones. Not because we’ve tricked people,’ he explained.

  ‘Oh, let’s just put them up,’ said Abs suddenly.

  ‘Changed your tune now?’ asked Chris. ‘Shouldn’t expect anything less from a Man Poo fan . . .’

  ‘They aren’t going to work,’ Abs said. ‘Just like Liverpool’s strikers. But that don’t stop the manager from putting them out.’ He started laughing at his own joke.

  ‘Come on then,’ I said. ‘Let’s do it!’

  Chapter 6

  Thursday

  WE PUT THE posters up everywhere. On lampposts, bins, bus stops. We even stuck one on the notice board outside the local church. Then we all ran home. I tried not to think about it all the next day – the posters or the trial.

  Six o’clock came round so quickly but our scam hadn’t made any difference. By the time we got to the youth club all the lads from the first trial were already there. And Mr Turner was standing with a group of parents staring at one of our posters.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ I heard him say as I walked over to where he was standing.

  ‘They were everywhere, Steve,’ added one of the parents, a tall man with grey hair.

  ‘It’s very strange,’ continued Mr Turner. ‘I didn’t change the time and nor did Ian James, so I can’t for the life of me understand why—’

  That was all I heard because I walked away to go and tell the others what had happened.

  ‘It didn’t work,’ I said to them.

  ‘Knew it wouldn’t,’ replied Abs. ‘It was a stupid idea. Just like making a football team called Liverpool–’

  ‘Shut up, you chav!’ Chris shouted.

  I sighed. ‘Can we just concentrate on the trial?’ I asked.

  Jason nodded. ‘Yeah. It doesn’t matter about the posters. It was cheating anyway,’ he said.

  ‘But I did it for all of us,’ said Chris. ‘And how was I supposed to know it wasn’t going to work?’

  ‘Who cares?’ replied Abs, in his usual cocky way. ‘We’re gonna get into the starting eleven – trust me . . .’

  ‘Bit hard to trust a Man Poo fan,’ I said.

  ‘Least I ain’t got a face like a toilet brush,’ replied Abs.

  As we walked into the changing rooms at the clubhouse, Jason asked Abs how someone could have a face like a toilet brush.

  ‘Just look in the mirror,’ he replied, giggling at his own joke. As usual.

  The other lads were already changing when we got inside and I ended up getting ready between Steven and Adam – the big lad.

  ‘You’re back!?’ Adam said, smirking. ‘I thought only the good players could come back?’

  I gave him a funny look. ‘What does that mean, mate?!’

  Adam just went on, ‘I didn’t play my best last time so I’m going to be even better this time,’ he said.

  ‘That wouldn’t be hard,’ Chris said from the bench opposite.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Adam warned.

  In my head I was worried about what Adam had said. He was so much bigger than the rest of us. And if he had a problem with me, what could I do about it? I didn’t want him to know I was worried though. So I tried to see if I could wind him up. He’d started on me so it was fair game.

  ‘There’s girls I know that play better than you,’ I said.

  Adam spun round and faced up to me.

  ‘You what?’ he said, screwing up his face.

  ‘Girls,’ Chris told him. ‘You know, them people that don’t have anything to do with ugly freaks like you?’

  I could see that Adam was getting angrier and I wondered whether we should stop pushing him but Chris didn’t care.

  ‘And how big are your feet anyway?’ he asked Adam. ‘Munster or Shrek size?’

  Adam clenched his fists by his side. They were huge. ‘You’re gonna regret saying that!’ he told Chris. ‘Even if I don’t get into this team. It ain’t the only team in the league . . .’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s gonna be the best,’ I told him. ‘With me and my mates playing . . .’

  ‘You lot couldn’t hit a cow’s bum with a banjo,’ he said, smirking again.

  ‘We’re gonna make you lot look like girls!’ Jason said from behind us.

  Adam started to go for Jason just as the two coaches walked in.

  ‘Something wrong?’ Mr Turner asked sternly.

  ‘No – nothing,’ said Adam.

  ‘Just messing about,’ Chris told the coach.

  ‘Well, stop it and get outside. This trial should have started ten minutes ago.’

  ‘What were those posters about?’ I asked Mr James.

  ‘Just a misunderstanding,’ he replied. ‘Probably some kids messing about. Our rivals, Evington Eagles, up to no good, I suspect . . .’

  I nodded, pleased that we’d got away with our rubbish plan. And I also started wondering about the Evington Eagles. Neither coach had mentioned them before. Why were they our deadliest rivals? Was it like Liverpool versus Everton – a local derby? Evin
gton was the area next to ours so I guessed it was. Suddenly I got really excited and couldn’t wait to get out onto the pitch.

  ‘Only fifteen minutes’ warm-up today and then straight into eleven versus eleven,’ Mr James told us. ‘And we’ve kept the teams similar to the other day. Adam will captain one and Jason the other. As before – if you don’t start the game, keep warm and be ready to come on at any time.’

  We all nodded.

  ‘And today is selection day,’ added Mr Turner. ‘Today is when we pick the squad for the Rushton Reds.’

  I gulped. Was I going to be good enough to make it?

  The pitch was heavy as it had been raining during the afternoon. I could smell the grass and the mud. I jogged over to the centre circle, quickly joined by the others.

  ‘Single file!’ shouted Mr James. ‘A slow jog along the marked lines. Stay behind the man in front of you.’

  He set off with the rest of us behind him, running the lines in a random pattern. After five minutes we lined up along the touchline and raced each other in sprints to the halfway line. All the while I was watching Adam to see how he was doing. And from what I could tell, he was keeping an eye on me and Chris, who was running beside me. Once when I looked across at him, he smirked and made a fist. I nodded at him, not wanting to let him see that I was bothered.

  After the warm-up, we split into two teams with substitutes. Me, Chris, Jason and Abs were on the same side again, along with Gurinder and Steven. There were some other lads as well and two of them had been on the opposite side last time around. One of them came up and offered me his hand to shake. He was short and skinny with spiky brown hair that had been gelled stiff.

  ‘I’m Corky,’ he told me. ‘You were really good last time.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, smiling. ‘I’m Dal – and these lads are . . .’

  I introduced him to the rest of the lads.

  ‘This is Leon,’ said Corky, introducing us to the player next to him. ‘He couldn’t make it the other night but Mr Turner let him come today anyway.’

  Leon was taller and he had his hair in small braids, tight against his head.

  ‘Easy,’ Leon said to all of us.

  ‘Easy yourself with your girlie haircut,’ Chris shouted back.

  I turned and gave my best mate a dirty look. What did he think he was doing? But Chris just grinned at me, and when I turned to look at Leon, instead of getting upset or angry, he was grinning too.

  ‘Chris is my cousin,’ Leon told us. ‘Although he comes from the ugly side of the family . . .’

  I laughed.

  ‘Let’s get some tactics sorted, lads,’ said Mr James as he came towards us. Behind him was a woman: a very pretty woman with long brown hair and a big smile.

  ‘This is Miss Rice,’ Mr James told us. ‘She coaches the girls’ team and helps out with ours too.’

  ‘Hey, boys,’ said Miss Rice. ‘We ready to play soccer?’

  Her accent was American. Steven nudged me in the back and then spoke up.

  ‘It’s football, miss.’

  ‘Football, soccer . . .’ replied Miss Rice. ‘Really – who cares? The question is, can you all play the game?’

  Some of the other lads shouted out ‘Woo!’ as Steven went a bit red.

  ‘Right, let’s be having you . . .’ said Mr James.

  He quickly read out the starting positions and names. I was in defence and I smiled when I saw that Steven was put in next to me. Corky got the position just in front of us, alongside Jason. Abs and Chris were up front with Leon on the right and Gurinder in goal. The rest of the lads filled in the other positions and we had four substitutes. As we took up positions Corky pulled me aside.

  ‘Watch out for that big lad, Adam,’ he told me.

  I nodded. ‘He’s good, isn’t he?’ I said.

  Corky shook his head. That wasn’t what he meant. ‘He trained for the Eagles yesterday too,’ he said. ‘My brother saw him. And he was going on about getting you and your mates – in the changing room earlier.’

  I nodded again. ‘Can he train for us and the Eagles?’ I asked.

  ‘Only if no one finds out about it,’ replied Corky, winking at me. ‘I did trials for Clarendon United too.’

  ‘Who are they?’ I asked. All I knew was that Clarendon was one of the areas next to ours. I didn’t know anything about their team.

  ‘They’re the best team in the league along with the Eagles,’ replied Corky.

  ‘So how come you’re training with us?’ I asked him, getting suspicious.

  He grinned at me. ‘They told me I wasn’t good enough to play for them,’ he admitted. ‘And now I’m going to join the Reds and prove them wrong! That’s who we’re playing on Saturday and I’m going to score against them!’

  I looked at him and wished I could be as determined as he was. But I was really, really nervous . . .

  Chapter 7

  THE FIRST TEN minutes went OK. Neither team scored but ours had the best chances. We were passing the ball around well and I could tell that Mr James was happy with us. He was standing on the side with Miss Rice and he kept on pointing players out and nodding his head. The other team were just kicking the ball anywhere, but we were making sure that we passed accurately. Then we had a break on the left and Jason picked up the ball.

  One of their defenders closed him down but Jason just waited for him to get close and then slid the ball between his legs, the classic nutmeg move. He looked up and saw me in the middle of the pitch. He played the ball to me at speed. I took it with my right foot but didn’t control it properly. It shot out to my right and I had to stretch to get control of it. But when I did I saw Abs out of the corner of my eye. He was running into space, with nothing between him and the goal. I knew one of their players was closing in on me, but I waited a few moments before sliding the ball through to Abs.

  I didn’t have time to admire my pass though. As soon as I played the ball, someone steamed into me from the side and my legs came out from underneath me. I hit the ground and got a mouthful of mud. I rolled over twice as a shooting pain worked its way up my left shin.

  ‘OWW!!!!!!!!!!’ I cried out.

  I heard the whistle go and then one of my team-mates shouting. It was Chris and he was having a go at someone.

  ‘That’s a bad tackle!’ he complained. ‘He didn’t even go for the ball!’

  ‘I’ll deal with it,’ I heard Mr Turner say.

  I rolled over again and saw the ref call Adam over. Slowly, I got to my feet. My shin was aching but it wasn’t too bad. I walked around a bit, trying to shake it off. Mr Turner was talking to Adam.

  ‘There was no need for that, son,’ he told him. ‘The ball had gone—’

  ‘Yeah, but—’ began Adam.

  ‘Just listen!’ warned Mr Turner. ‘I’m not having any more of that. Stay on your feet and don’t go diving in . . . OK?’

  ‘OK,’ moaned Adam. He turned and walked back to his position, right past me. ‘Next time I’ll get you properly,’ he snarled.

  I shrugged at him and half walked, half limped back to my position. The free kick I’d been given was taken by Steven, who passed the ball left to Leon. Leon controlled it and pushed it into the space in front of him. He set off after it with a defender trying to catch him. But Leon was too quick and he reached the ball first. He looked up and then squared the ball to Abs. I heard Chris, who was behind Abs, shout, ‘Leave it!’ Abs let it go through his legs, which fooled their defence, and Chris was suddenly in on goal. With Adam trying desperately to hold him back, he side-footed the ball past their keeper.

  1–0!

  Chris turned to Adam. ‘That’s for my mate!’ he jeered. ‘Cheers!’

  Then he was mobbed by our team.

  The game went on for another ten minutes before we got our next chance. But this time Chris didn’t get hold of the ball properly and Adam managed to clear it away. Then the opposition got a lucky break. Jason was trying to pass the ball to Corky when it hit the re
f and rebounded to Adam instead. He set off at a sprint, the ball at his huge feet. First Steven and then Corky tried to stop him but he just shrugged them both off. Our right back, a lad called Tony, got in his way, but Adam dribbled past him too.

  I was next. I moved towards Adam, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the ball. He turned it left but I was there so he moved it to the right. But I was too quick again and he had to hold back. He stopped, waited for me to come in with a challenge and then set off again, leaving me flat-footed for a second. But I woke up quickly and tried to catch him again. I kept my eyes on the ball, and just as he was about to shoot for goal I slid out my right foot and took the ball away cleanly.

  ‘ARRGHHHH!’ screamed Adam, diving to the floor.

  I rolled around and got straight to my feet. Adam did the same. And then he was in my face, calling me a cheat. Mr Turner blew his whistle and then ran over to us.

  ‘Clean tackle, clean tackle!’ he said.

  ‘You fouled me!’ Adam said, pointing at me.

  ‘I won the ball,’ I replied, staying calm.

  I could see that Adam was really angry, and I knew that if he kicked off he’d be sent off the pitch. I remembered what Corky had told me and the foul he’d committed on me earlier. I decided to try and wind him up. I smirked at him and then made a diving gesture with my hands.

  ‘You what?’ he shouted, grabbing out at my shirt. I felt a bolt of fear streak through me and looked up at him. It was like staring up a cliff face at a gorilla.

  ‘LEAVE IT!’ shouted Mr Turner. ‘Get back to your position, son!’

  Adam kind of growled at me but he did as he was told.

  ‘Drop ball to restart,’ Mr Turner said when things had calmed down.

  The first half ended 1–0 to us. But as soon as the second half started, their strikers, Dave and Harry, combined and scored a great goal. We hadn’t even had time to think and they were celebrating the equalizer.

  ‘Concentrate!’ Mr James shouted from the sidelines.

  ‘Get tighter to their attack!’ Miss Rice shouted at me and Steven.

  I turned to her and held up my thumb to say OK. She held a thumb up too and smiled at me.

  ‘You’re doing really well,’ she said as I went to get the ball at a throw-in a few moments later. ‘Keep going . . .’