Johnny Ball

by Matt Oldfield

  “I guess PLT must stand for Pretty Lame Teacher,” Gabby joked.

  Anyway, back to the pitch. Well, it wasn’t really a pitch any more; it was a mudbath. A boggy, soggy, squelchy, spongy, slimy mudbath. Perfect for mud wrestling, TERRIBLE for football.

  “RIGHT, TROOPS, DON’T BE AFRAID TO GET YOUR HANDS DIRTY TODAY!” Mr Mann boomed. “AND YOUR FEET, OF COURSE!”

  Some of the other players weren’t so sure, but Scott couldn’t wait for kick-off. Messing around in the mud was his favourite thing in the world (even more than ice cream). He was famous for it at school.

  Scott shouted with every slide-tackle.

  The Upton Academy players, however, really didn’t share his love of getting dirty.

  “My brand-new white boots!” their star striker moaned. “They’re ruined! Mummy will be so mad with me.”

  His slick skills and fancy footwork were no match for Scott, the human toboggan. Tissbury were taking control.

  Scott was completely covered in mud, from his old black boots all the way up to his smiling face. He was having the time of his life and his best game for Tissbury.

  “THAT’S IT, LAD – THEY DON’T LIKE IT UP ’EM!” Mr Mann called out next to me.

  Seeing Scott bossing the game should have made me feel better, but instead it made me feel nervous. Because suddenly, I was starting to BELIEVE. Yes, we could really do this – Tissbury could win this semi-final and go through to the County Cup Final!

  But what could I do to help make that happen? I was determined to play my part and prove Daniel wrong. There was no “just” in “assistant manager”; I was the real deal! I could still hear my brother’s mean words playing in my head: Those aren’t FOOTBALL ideas – they’re stupid playground pranks. Even Macho Mann knows far more than you about football…

  Maybe what I needed was a great idea that was a little more football-y and way less exciting. As I watched Scott’s slides getting longer and longer, and closer and closer to our penalty area, I thought to myself, What silly thing would football people like Mr Mann say right now?

  TING! TERRIBLE LIGHT-BULB MOMENT! And that’s when I opened my big mouth and ruined everything: “Stay on your feet!” I called out. “Be careful, we don’t want to give away any penalties.”

  I said that last word super quietly so that Gabby hopefully wouldn’t hear. The last thing we needed was her getting spooked out by a spot kick.

  Scott nodded, but I could tell that he was really disappointed. I was taking away his favourite football thing.

  And that turned out to be a terrible mistake. The next time the Upton striker dribbled into the box, Scott was about to slide in as usual when he suddenly remembered my message. At the last second, he stopped and stood still, like he was playing stuck-in-the-mud. Before he could move, the ball was in the back of our net. 1–0 to Upton!

  My heart sank straight to the bottom of my stomach, and I buried my face in Grandpa George’s extra-long scarf.

  “You just let him run right past you!” Billy yelled at Scott. “Why didn’t you TACKLE him?”

  Scott pointed straight at me and glared like his eyes were lasers. I’d never seen him look so angry, not even that day Mr Flake sold out of ice cream just as he got to the front of the line.

  And it wasn’t just Scott who was angry with me; it was the whole team.

  “Nice one, SPITBALL!” huffed Alex C. “Now we’re going to lose the Cup because of you.”

  “I know you were only trying to help, Johnny,” Izzy tried to be kind, which was even worse, “but what WERE you thinking?”

  “LET THAT BE A LESSON TO YA, BALLY JUNIOR!” Mr Mann said. “YOU DON’T KNOW BEST!”

  I felt like the naughty dog who gets left outside in the rain. Actually, that’s pretty much exactly what I was, only I didn’t have the cute furry face to make them forgive me.

  After being the hero against Bartley, I was now the Tissbury villain. They had been on their way to the County Cup Final until I stupidly tried to be the hero. Why couldn’t I have just kept my big mouth shut? I was really kicking myself. I know what you’re thinking – a Ball kicking himself! – but it really wasn’t the time for jokes.

  Even Billy could see that, but it WAS the perfect time for him to really bellow his worst words at me. It was like all his birthdays had come at once.

  “Oh yeah, it’s ALL your fault, Johnny! Keep your stupid football ideas to yourself next time! No one wants to hear them. You’re just the assistant manager, and you’re a rubbish assistant manager at that! We don’t need you!”

  For the first time ever, Billy was right; it was my fault. And Daniel had been right too; I was wasting my time, and now I was even making things WORSE for the team. Tissbury Primary would be better off without me and my foolish football ideas. Before I could say sorry, Mr Mann boomed: “THAT’S ENOUGH, BALLY JUNIOR – YOU’RE SACKED! I WARNED YOU ABOUT THIS AND YOU DIDN’T LISTEN. YOU’VE GOT TOO BIG FOR YOUR BOOTS, BOY!”

  Just when I’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, I had been fired. I hadn’t even been able to quit. I looked around at my team, feeling tears in my eyes. Mo? Alex W? Izzy? Surely, someone would stick up for me? I had helped each one of them, but no one said a word.

  Tabia was my last chance. My best friend would have my back like always, wouldn’t she? She, more than anyone else, knew what being the Tissbury Primary assistant manager meant to me. But no, my best friend just stared down at her boots and muttered, “Come on, let’s get on with the game.”

  TISSBURY PRIMARY VS UPTON ACADEMY (PART II)

  I’ll be honest, that hurt like a paintball to the face. If Tabia wouldn’t stick up for me, then I was officially on my own. I walked off and watched the rest of the first half from behind a tree near the car park. In no time at all, Tissbury were back in the match. Scott won the ball with, yep, you guessed it, a slide-tackle. He passed to Billy, who HOOFed! it to Alex W, who kicked it for Koyo. 1–1!

  My team were better off without me. It was a sad end to the football adventures of Johnny Ball: Assistant Manager, but I only had myself to blame. I couldn’t bear to watch any more. I stormed off to the school bus, lay down on the back seats and waited for it all to be over.

  I lay there for ages, imagining Tissbury celebrating another amazing victory without me, and trying to decide which after-school club I would have to join instead of football (stamp collecting, chess, bird-watching?). It must have been less than 30 minutes, but it felt like a lifetime.

  Then just when I was seriously thinking about walking all the way home, there was a knock at the window. Actually, it sounded more like a BANG! and it wasn’t just one; there were lots. Was the bus under attack again?

  “OK, OK – stop!” I sat up to see Tabia standing there with a super-worried look on her face.

  “Johnny, come quick!” she cried. “We need you!”

  I definitely didn’t believe that last part, and besides, I wasn’t speaking to Tabia. There was football and then there were best friends – best friends always came first, no matter what. But she had broken that golden rule, and so our best friendship was over. In fact, she was the biggest BOGEY-BRAIN-FART-FACE that I had ever met.

  “Well, I’m not the assistant manager any more.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  I waited for Tabia to leave, but she stood her ground. Who would give in first?

  Me, of course! Tabia always beat me at everything, plus I couldn’t help being curious.

  “Fine! What’s happened then?” I asked.

  “After you left, we fought back and equalized. Alex W scored—”

  “I know, I was watching until half-time,” I interrupted rudely. I wanted Tabia to know that I hadn’t forgiven her that easily.

  “Well, you didn’t miss much in the second half. It finished 1–1 and now it’s gone to…”

  Penalties! Poor Gabby. I could see why Tabia was super worried now, but there was one thing that still didn’t make sense.

  “Wait, why are you here and
not out there winning the shoot-out?”

  Tabia crossed her arms and grunted. “Because Mr Mann subbed me off for Mo.”

  No way! What kind of a manager took their best player off just before penalties? I know I couldn’t talk after my own terrible football idea, but even I wouldn’t have done something that stupid.

  “So, how’s Gabby doing?” I asked, although I could already guess the answer.

  “Not well at all. It’s 2–2 so far. She’s shaking like a wet dog and she’s doing the jokes, but she’s getting them muddled. She needs your help, Johnny – WE need your help!”

  “No, you don’t,” I said, shaking my head glumly. “I’ll only make things worse, like I did with Scott.”

  “Hey, forget about that, RAT-RASH – we need you RIGHT NOW!”

  I knew how much Tabia hated being wrong, but I was going to need more of an apology than that. “Well, it didn’t look that way when you let Mr Mann fire me from the team!”

  Could she say the magic word? That’s all I wanted to hear, but it was as if Tabia’s tongue was tied in a big, twisty knot.

  “I’m–I’m really … SORRY, SNAIL-SLIME. There, I said it! I know I should have stood up for you, but I was angry. I mean, it was a bad idea telling him not to slide-tackle.”

  “Great, thanks for the reminder! It’s the last time I ever listen to Daniel. I only did it because he said my football ideas were stupid playground pranks! And then Billy and Mr Mann—”

  “Look, can’t we talk about this later? We’ve got a County Cup semi-final to win! That was just one awful football idea vs a million great ones. Johnny, we both know you’re a football genius and this is your big chance to show it. Come on!”

  Although my brain said stay on the school bus, my feet followed Tabia back out onto the field. I was still mad at her, but I had to at least try to make up for my mistake…

  We stopped to watch as Billy swaggered forward to take the next penalty, looking as confident as ever. This was his big chance to grab the glory! Last time, he had HOOFed! it high over the crossbar, but this time, he HOOFed! it high into … top left bins. CLANK! 3–2 to Tissbury!

  After a few loud cheers (mostly from Billy), the atmosphere got super-tense again. After all, this was a penalty shoot-out at the end of the County Cup semi-finals, and we were now one super save away from winning it. Now, that’s nail-biting!

  Some members of the Tissbury team looked pleased to see me again. Others, not so much.

  “I hope you’ve come back to clear up your mess,” Billy growled menacingly. “We’d have won by now if it hadn’t been for Gabby’s rubbish goalkeeping!”

  “I’VE DECIDED TO GIVE YOU ONE LAST CHANCE, BALLY JUNIOR!” Mr Mann boomed, as if it was all his own idea. “NO MORE SCHOOLBOY ERRORS OR YOU’RE OUT!”

  But I am a schoolboy! I thought to myself. There was no use arguing with Mr Mann, though. Especially not now.

  The pressure had clearly got to Gabby. You know how some people start laughing when they’re feeling nervous? Well, she was rolling around on the grass, cackling like a witch. I had to find a way to calm her down.

  Think, Johnny, think!

  Where were my great football ideas when I needed them? I didn’t have much time; the Upton striker was pacing around impatiently. “Hurry up, you lot! I haven’t got all day to be the hero!” he called out smugly.

  Think, Johnny, think!

  My plan had to be simple and successful. Otherwise, Mr Mann was going to squish me between his enormous hands. But even worse than that, Tissbury were going to crash out of the County Cup, unless…

  TING! LIGHT-BULB MOMENT. Phew, just in time!

  “Tabs, give me your water bottle,” I said and then remembered my manners. “Please.”

  I needed a pen too, but I already had one of those so that I could write in my pocket notebook. Thanks, Mum! Weirdly, I was missing her a tiny bit.

  As soon as I was ready, I raced over to get Gabby up off the grass and hand her the bottle. While she gulped down the water, I whispered in her ear: “Read the lid!”

  Gabby was very confused at first, but then she looked down and saw the secret notes I’d written on the water bottle. Genius, right? They were the words to the greatest football joke in the world. Well, the only football joke that I could remember at that moment, anyway.

  Gabby seemed to like it, though. First, she smiled and then she laughed. This time, it wasn’t a weird witch cackle like before; it was a real, proper laugh. Suddenly, she didn’t look quite so scared any more.

  “You’ve got this, G,” I told her, sounding way more confident than I really felt.

  You’ve got this, G? Wow, I was almost as super embarrassing as Mum! At least I hadn’t tried an American accent, though.

  “Thanks, J!”

  As she stood in goal, there was a spring in Gabby’s step again. She even banged her gloves together to show that she meant business.

  “Finally!” the Upton striker huffed with his hands on his hips. “I’m going to be late for supper, thanks to you. And there’s nothing I hate more than cold caviar!”

  He placed the ball down, took a few steps back, and was just about to start his run-up, when:

  “What do you do if you get too hot at a football match?” Gabby blurted out.

  This was it: the big test. Would our comedy keeper plan work? Could she stay calm and win this massive game of: “WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO MAKE YOU MISS?”

  Yes! The Upton striker was already answering!

  “Hmm, well, when I go to watch matches with Daddy, we always bring a nice cold bottle of Fizzlebury’s finest sparkling grape juice to share. But last time, security made us leave our ice bucket behind in the Range Rover! Can you believe it?”

  Brilliant, the silly FLAMINGO-FACE hadn’t even worked out that it was just a joke! He was clearly still thinking about his poor ice bucket as he ran up to take the penalty. His shot was good, but not good enough to beat GABBY “HARD HANDS” WALTERS…

  SAAAAAAAAVED!

  It was all over – Tissbury Primary were the winners! We were through to the County Cup Final, thanks to our Comedy Keeper.

  “Yes, you LEGEND!”

  “What a save!”

  “THAT WAS A WORLDIE, GABBY!”

  “Way to go, G!”

  That last one was me, by the way, in case you hadn’t guessed. We all bundled on top of Gabby and then carried her on a loud lap of honour around the pitch, chanting at the tops of our voices.

  I was really relieved about making up for my mistake, but there was still something missing … my best friend. Who was I supposed to celebrate with now? On the way back to the bus, Tabia walked over to me slowly, like I was a wild animal who might bite.

  “W-well done, Johnny, I knew you could do it. I’m–I’m really sorry that I ever doubted you. There, did you hear that? I’ve said the S-word twice now, PENGUIN-POO. So please forgive me, please! It won’t happen again. Well, as long as you don’t… Anyway, best friends for ever?”

  I pretended to think about it for a few seconds.

  “Best friends for ever!” I smiled, holding out my hand for our special, secret handshake.

  As we left the school, the Upton Academy coach was still staring down at his tablet screen in disbelief. All his clever stats and graphs showed that they were by far the better team – so, how on earth had they lost?

  I’ll tell you how – because you can’t beat a bit of humour! Sorry, Scott; I had learned my lesson the hard way:

  FOOTBALL SHOULD ALWAYS BE FUN(NY).

  “So…?” Billy said to Gabby on the now party bus back home.

  “So what?”

  “You didn’t finish your joke – what DO you do if you get too hot at a football match?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot – SIT NEXT TO A FAN!”

  “Nice one, Gabby!” Billy snorted like a satisfied bull.

  “It wasn’t my joke; it was Johnny’s. He really saved the day. I don’t care what some of you say; if you ask me, he’
s the BEST ASSISTANT MANAGER EVER!”

  Don’t worry, I knew that Gabby was just being nice. I wasn’t the “BEST ASSISTANT MANAGER EVER”. Right then, I wasn’t even in the Top 200 Million!

  But at least I had my best friend back and the Tissbury players weren’t angry with me any more. On the party bus, I was getting high-fives and hugs from everyone*, even Scott.

  “We all slip up sometimes,” he said, still wearing his mud mask. “You know me; I do it all the time!”

  *Well, not Billy, obviously, but that would have been way too weird anyway.

  By the time I got home, I was feeling a lot better about myself, but I still had DOUBTS. I couldn’t talk to Daniel any more. Since our fight, he was walking past me as if I was his invisible brother. So instead, I decided to make a worry list, just like Miss Patel had taught us in class:

  Writing my doubts down definitely helped. I could have kept going, but I had reached the end of the page, and I didn’t want to fill up my pocket notebook before …

  THE COUNTY CUP FINAL!

  Tissbury would be playing in the final for the first time S.D. (Since Daniel) and that was a super-huge achievement. It was the main reason why I had been so happy to become the assistant manager in the first place. That, and making my football family proud of me, and maybe I could still achieve that too, even with my brother. I couldn’t give up now. There was a chance that my team might need my (mostly) great football ideas one last time.

  So, I worked harder than ever to find a way for us to win that County Cup. Remember, I had been dreaming about that moment for years: the party, the pride, the glory, the winners’ medal and, of course, that glittering trophy. With that image to inspire me, I scribbled down lots of great ideas for training exercises, just in case Mr Mann let me do some actual coaching at our last team practice before the big day…