“RIGHT, TROOPS, I’VE GOT SOME GOOD NEWS AND SOME BAD NEWS,” he boomed once we were all huddled together on the field, ready for training. “I’LL START WITH THE BAD NEWS – SADLY, I WON’T BE THERE AT THE COUNTY CUP FINAL…”
That was the BAD news?! HURRAY! On the outside, I tried my best to look super sad but, on the inside, I was jumping with joy.
“NOW FOR THE GOOD NEWS – THE REASON THAT I WON’T BE AT THE COUNTY CUP FINAL IS BECAUSE I GOT A CALL FROM BLETHER UNITED LAST NIGHT. THEY’VE BEEN WATCHING MY SUCCESS HERE, AND THEY WANT ME TO BE THEIR NEW MANAGER!”
Wait, WHAT? How? Why? When? Blether United wanted Mr Mann? No way! There had to be a mistake! At first, I didn’t know what to say, but eventually, I went for:
“Congratulations, Sir. I’m so happy for you!”
(And for me! I thought, but I made sure that I only thought it.)
“THANKS, BALLY JUNIOR, IT’S A DREAM COME TRUE. IT FEELS LIKE ALL MY HARD WORK HAS FINALLY PAID OFF! I KNEW I HAD A TOP FOOTBALL BRAIN, BUT I NEVER THOUGHT I’D GET THE CHANCE TO USE IT…”
Was Mr Mann about to cry? His eyes were wetter than Billy’s trousers that time in nursery…
“So, who’ll be our manager for the final, Sir?” Tabia asked. Then she looked at me and we both crossed all our fingers and toes.
“WELL, I’LL DECIDE THE TEAM AND THE TACTICS…”
What tactics?
“…AND THEN BALLY JUNIOR WILL BE THERE ON THE SIDELINES. DON’T LET ME DOWN, TROOPS!”
Wow! Me? The Tissbury Primary manager for the County Cup Final? What a day to make my debut! My face didn’t know what to show first: happiness, pride or total panic.
I looked around at my team, just like I had after my awful mistake against Upton. This time, they weren’t glaring at me; they were smiling. Well, most of them anyway.
But what about all my DOUBTS? What if I made another awful mistake in the final? Could I really do this? There was only one way to find out…
Oh boy, things were moving way faster than I’d thought. A few weeks ago, I had started out as Johnny Ball: Assistant Manager. Now I was Johnny Ball: FOOTBALL Manager already! Then, if we won the County Cup Final, I would be on my way to becoming Johnny N. Ball, “THE NEXT PAUL PORTERFIELD”, and the future number one football genius in the whole wide world!
“Calm down, calm down.” I stroked my excited brain like it was a soft, furry cat.
I had to take things one step at a time. As Grandpa George would say, I still had wallops of work to do. Especially as one player in particular was furious about Mr Mann’s big news. Can you guess who?
“WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!” Billy yelled, barging his way to the front of the team huddle. “You’ve got to be kidding, Sir! You’re leaving the BALL BOY in charge for the County Cup Final, the biggest game of all? We’ve got no chance now! Have you forgotten the mess he made against Upton?”
“Shut it, GOOSE-GRIN. That was one mistake!” It was Tabs who said it, but I was thinking it too. “Johnny knows what he’s doing. He’s already shown that he’s full of great football ideas!”
“Yeah!” shouted Scott.
“Yeah!” yelled Mo.
“KOYO!” added Alex W.
“Yeah!” roared Izzy.
With each cheer, my heart leaped higher and higher like it was on a trampoline. This time, the Tissbury players were sticking up for me!
“Yeah!” cried Gabby. “I can barely manage to get out of bed in the morning, but Johnny can definitely manage our football team!” Wow, they trusted me again too!
That left one last player – Alex C. Whose side was he on? On the one hand, I had helped him and his hammer head to become the heroes against Bartley Moor. But on the other hand, his best friend, Billy, was glaring at him so hard that it looked like he might burn a big hole in the back of Alex C’s head…
At first, I thought Alex C was just mouth-breathing, but actually, he was mumbling words. “Leave it, mate, Johnny’s … OK.”
“Johnny’s OK” – it wasn’t exactly Mum-level praise, but Billy didn’t see it that way. He stormed off like Alex C had just called me “THE NEXT PAUL PORTERFIELD” or something.
“Whatever, I’m done with this stupid school team, anyway. I QUIT, BALL BOY! Good luck in the final without me!”
Uh-oh. The players had already been feeling nervous about the County Cup Final, but this would make them properly panic. When I looked around, all eyes were on me, including Mr Mann’s. What, was I supposed to solve this? I guess this was what being a proper manager was like.
“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him,” I told them, trying to sound less worried than I felt. Finally, my wish to have a team without Billy had come true. But now, I wasn’t so sure it was what I wanted. We had come so far together, and we couldn’t lose our captain now, just before our biggest game.
As I arrived at the changing room door, Billy was making a lot of angry noise.
“Those thud-heads won’t win anything without me – I’m their captain!” he bellowed. “I hope they get THRASHED!”
Meanwhile, he was flinging his football kit all over the floor. First, one shin pad, and then the other:
CLATTER! CLATTER!
Then one gleaming golden boot, and then the other:
CLANK! CLANK!
There was that special sound again, but Billy hadn’t even HOOFed! a ball! He was also grunting like a pig, like the boots were really heavy. Wait a second – what if they weren’t just gold coloured? What if they were actually MADE OF GOLD? I had to find out…
“Billy, I’m really sorry if we’ve upset you,” I said. “We need you back – you’re our leader!”
As much as I hated to admit it, it was true. When he wasn’t too busy being a big bully, he was actually a pretty good footballer. He wasn’t Tabia-good – no way! – but he was still our second-best player. With the right coaching, his HOOF! could be a really dangerous weapon.
“Whatever, BALL BOY. Just leave me alone!”
I pretended I was tidying up, but really, I just wanted to get a closer look at his boots…
“Hey, don’t touch them!” Billy said.
Too late – the left one was already in my hand. No, they weren’t made of gold. But they were still way heavier than any boots I had ever seen, even the super ancient ones at Tissbury Football Museum. Oof! One boot weighed as much as all of Daniel’s football trophies combined!
No wonder Billy never did any running! It was amazing that he could even lift his feet high enough to HOOF! the ball.
“Where did you get these?” I asked.
“None of your business!” Billy replied, snatching it back. “I’m not talking to you – you’re trying to ruin MY football team!”
“No, I’m not! I deserve that manager job, whatever you say!” I told him, standing up for myself for once. I had finally found something that I was really good at, and I wasn’t giving up now. “Look, can’t we just work together? We’ve only got one more match to go!”
“Yeah, and you’re going to mess it up … AGAIN!”
“I don’t understand; I thought things were good with us after the Bartley game. And I made up for that mistake against Upton, didn’t I? So, what’s your problem now?”
There was silence while Billy snarled for a bit. That was his way of thinking of the meanest things to say.
“You, BALL-BRAIN – you’re my problem!” he said eventually. “You keep helping all the others to become heroes, but what about ME? I know I’m playing brilliantly…”
REALLY???
“…but I haven’t scored any goals yet! Well, other than that perfect penalty against Upton…”
“Well, those hulking-great golden boots aren’t helping!”
That’s what I wanted to say, but there was no use arguing with Billy. And by now, I had learned that it wasn’t always good to say exactly what I was thinking. I had to do what was best for the team; I was the manager now.
So, how could I persuade Billy to come back? By giving him t
he chance to be Tissbury’s star player, the centre of attention. He didn’t seem like someone who needed a confidence boost, but a little more couldn’t hurt, could it?
“Exactly! You’ve been playing so well that I didn’t think you’d want my help,” I explained. “But don’t worry, I’ve saved a super-great football idea for you – the greatest of them all! You’re going to be our County Cup Final hero!”
“Really?” Billy asked me.
Really? I asked myself. Why had I said that? Now I’d have to come up with something special!
“Go on then, what’s the plan?” he asked.
“I-it’s not quite … you’ll, err, have to wait until match day. Come on, let’s get back to training. We’ve got a final to prepare for!”
Billy nodded and started putting his gleaming gold boots back on. No, no, no! I had to get rid of those massive monsters, but how?
TING! MINI LIGHT-BULB MOMENT.
“Here, why don’t you try these?” I said, handing him my old pair. “Daniel loved those boots, but they don’t fit him any more.”
Billy was about to say, “No way!” until he heard the Tissbury magic word: “Daniel.” After that, those boots were on his feet in a flash.
“Cheers, these feel … different,” Billy admitted as he ran back onto the pitch.
I bet they do! I thought to myself. It must have felt like walking across a field of Mr Flake’s ice cream.
The other players looked very relieved to see us returning together. Phew, it was a miracle! I had passed my first test as Tissbury Primary’s manager. Now the practice could begin.
Billy’s HOOF! wasn’t quite so hard any more, but at least he wasn’t weighed down. Now, he could use his power and strength to run around – well, a bit anyway.
“THAT’S IT, BILLY,” Mr Mann shouted. “I WANT TO SEE YOU ALL RUNNING THROUGH BRICK WALLS FOR THE TEAM!”
It was our last practice before the County Cup Final, and we should have been working hard on EVERY PART OF OUR GAME PLAN:
our fitness,
our tactics,
our tackling,
our passing,
our shooting,
defending corners and free kicks
and attacking corners and free kicks…
But what were we doing instead? Yep, you guessed it – we were just playing a match!
I wanted to say something to Mr Mann – I really did – but what if he got angry again and decided to take away my manager job? No, I couldn’t let that happen, so I kept my great football ideas to myself … for now.
Anyway, back to Billy. Sadly, a new pair of boots wasn’t going to solve the biggest problem of all: his awful attitude.
“Get back, you bozo! It’s not my fault you can’t control my perfect pass.”
“It’s like playing with a bunch of football fools!”
“Scott, if you slide-tackle me one more time, I’m going to HOOF! that ball in your face!”
Billy was meant to be the team leader, but he certainly wasn’t acting like it. He was fighting with absolutely everyone! As Tabia trudged off the pitch, she lasered me with a look that said:
“DO SOMETHING!”
She was right. I had to put a stop to Billy’s awful attitude, but how? How could I make sure that he was on his best behaviour for the final?
Take away the captain’s armband? No, that might make him even angrier!
Tell him that Daniel would be there watching? No, that might make him show off even more!
TING! MAJOR LIGHT-BULB MOMENT.
Of course! Who was the person that Billy was most scared of in the whole wide world?
HIS MUM!
No one messed with Mrs Newland. I had learned that lesson at nursery when I’d accidentally run over her foot with my tricycle. Never again!
But if it could help Tissbury to win the County Cup Final, then I would do it. I would speak to Billy’s mum and make sure that she was there watching.
There was one other person that I wanted to visit before the big day.
“How’s my favourite little follyflop?”
“I’m good thanks, Grandpa George. No, actually, I’m better than good – I’m GREAT! Mr Mann can’t make the County Cup Final because he says he’s going to be the new Blether United manager. And best of all, he’s left me in charge!”
“Oh, that’s fantiddlytastic news! Well, it’s luverly luck that I have another scarf to wear then, isn’t it? I’ll just need to remember where I left it…”
“Wait,” I nearly spat out my milky tea, “you’re coming to the final, Grandpa?”
“Why, I wouldn’t miss it for the woly-poly world!”
Oh boy, my big day was getting bigger and bigger. What if we got hammered, like Billy had said? That would be even more super embarrassing with Grandpa George watching as well as my super-embarrassing mum! But it was my job to make sure that didn’t happen.
“So, do you feel ready? Did you have to do all your research in a rabbity old rush?”
“What ‘research’, Grandpa?”
“Learning all the important thingymanoodles. Before any big match, Malcolm McCleary, that mean magubbin, would send me out to spy on our opponents, whatever the wurly weather.”
“And did it help?”
“Sometimes, it really saved our bacon, and other times, it didn’t make a tiddly bit of difference. Still, it likely led to a light-bulb moment or three for me!”
Really? That would be super helpful, but wasn’t it cheating? I didn’t want to break the rules to beat Epic Forest in the final, but at the same time, it would be useful to see just how “epic” they really were…
That night, I couldn’t sleep for ages because questions were going around and around my head like annoying brain boomerangs.
By the morning, I had almost made up my mind. But if I really was setting off on a scary scouting adventure, I wasn’t going on my own. No, I needed my best friend by my side.
“That’s a great football idea, Johnny!” Tabs seemed way more excited than me. “I’ve got a friend who goes to Epic, so I know how to get there. They practise on a Thursday, I think … hey, that’s today. Let’s go!”
“OK … we’re really going to do this?”
“Come on, don’t be such a SWEET-CHILLI-CHICKEN, Johnny. We’re doing it for Tissbury, remember, and you’re our manager now!”
Tabs was right. There was no time to be a sweet-chilli-chicken; we had a County Cup Final to win. So, after school, we climbed on board the number 52 bus and set off on our scary scouting adventure.
“What’s our plan once we get there?” I asked as we sat down on the top deck.
“Don’t ask me,” Tabs replied, “you’re the one with all the great football ideas!”
Why did I always have to think of everything? I tried not to panic or pick a nasty name battle with her.
“What if we just pretend that we go to Epic?” I asked.
Tabs shook her head. “You know what Mrs Locke’s like at our school. I bet they know everyone’s name there too!”
Good point.
“OK, what if we pretend that we’ve got brothers and sisters who go to Epic? We could pick two really popular names like … Alex … and Emma.”
But Tabs shook her head again. “Don’t even try to fool ladies like Mrs Locke, Johnny. We’ll have to find another way in!”
The only other way in turned out to be climbing over the fence behind the Epic football pitch. It wasn’t actually that high but, as we stood in front of it, it towered over us like a mountain.
Honestly, I’ve never been so nervous in all my life. What if someone spotted us trying to climb it? I looked left, then right, then left, then right, as if I was crossing a really busy road at home time.
“All clear!” I whispered.
Tabs went first. She clambered up the fence and landed her jump like a pro. I, on the other hand, well, I can be quite clumsy sometimes.
“Just take it slowly,” Tabs told me, as I started to climb, bu
t my legs were shaking, and that was making the fence wobble beneath my feet.
WHOAAAAA!
Before I knew what was going on, I landed palms down in the mud.
SNIFF! SNIFF! UGHHHHH!
No, it wasn’t mud on my hand, after all; it was a dirty, stinking fox poo! I found some big leaves to wipe it away, but it was still there. I could smell it!
“Focus,” Tabs said, shaking me like a vending machine with something stuck inside. “We’re doing this for Tissbury, remember!”
She was right, as always. We had to find a way to win the County Cup Final. We crept forward as far as we could – watching out for any more “surprises” along the way – and then found a spot behind some big bushes to spy on Epic’s training session.
So, what did we learn from our scary scouting adventure? Well, Epic were definitely epic at football. Every single one of their players could:
HOOF! the ball like Billy (with his gold boots on!),
hammer-head it like Alex C,
slide-tackle like Scott
AND show off MAD SKILLZ like Tabs.
Even their goalie!
We’re doomed, I thought miserably, but I didn’t say that to Tabs. I didn’t need to. She could see it with her own eyes.
Plus, their coach was clearly a million times better than Mr Mann; no, a zillion! She didn’t boom out silly football phrases like an action figure.
Instead, she said normal things that made sense. That was my kind of manager! Her football brain was so big that there can’t have been much room for anything else. I scribbled down as much as I could in my pocket notebook: words, drills, tactics. There was so much more for me to learn!
It was only right at the end of the practice that Epic played a proper football match. And, boy, were they brilliant!
PASS, THEN MOVE,
PASS, THEN MOVE,
PASS, THEN MOVE – GOAL!
But just when I was giving up all hope of ever winning the County Cup Final, I spotted something interesting.
The three girls on Epic’s team had been super good during the drills, but in the match, they barely got a chance to touch the ball. Even when they were standing in lots of space, the boys just passed to each other instead.
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