Football Academy: Boys United

by Tom Palmer

  ‘No worries.’ Jake smiled. ‘Good goal. From now on, once I’ve beaten the first defender, I’ll try and get an early cross into the box for you. OK?’

  ‘Suits me! Cheers, Jake.’ Yunis was grinning.

  The game went well from then.

  Somehow the big defender wasn’t getting near Jake now. And Yunis was the perfect striker, always in the right place at the right time.

  Jake set Yunis up with three more goals, all crosses from the left.

  And, with a minute of the practice game to go, Jake decided to show he could shoot too. Instead of playing the ball in to Yunis, Jake dummied a pass, sending both defenders with the striker, then drew the keeper off his line and chipped him.

  Goal. A beauty.

  Jake heard Dad shout a loud ‘YES’. He looked over at him and smiled.

  Then he noticed a man standing near Dad, wearing a long overcoat. The man was clapping. He looked really familiar. But Jake couldn’t quite place him.

  He must be another boy’s father, Jake thought. Someone he’d seen at the football before, maybe.

  ‘Who’s that in the long coat?’ Jake said, as Yunis jogged beside him.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ Yunis replied, looking surprised.

  Jake didn’t have time to answer. Steve had blown his whistle. The game was over.

  ‘Right, lads,’ Steve said. ‘You all did well. As you know, we can only take two – maybe three – players on for next season. So, you go and get those kits off. We’ll make our decision and talk to our choices individually.’

  Sixteen boys walked off to the dressing rooms, aware that two or three of their lives might be about to change for ever.

  They Think It’s All Over

  Jake was sitting with his head down, trying to relax after the trial. When he looked up from his kitbag, Yunis was standing over him.

  ‘I thought you’d gone,’ Jake said.

  Yunis shook his head, but said nothing.

  He was in a school blazer and black trousers. He looked smart. A bit out of place among the other lads who were wearing Nike, Bench and Adidas.

  ‘I wanted to say thanks,’ Yunis said eventually, his voice stumbling. ‘For all the crosses and that.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Jake said. ‘You were good for me too.’

  ‘But listen… I just went outside…’ Yunis stopped again.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Jake asked.

  Yunis spoke quietly, leaning towards Jake. ‘. . . and they’ve asked me to sign schoolboy forms.’

  Jake stood up. Yunis was now a United player. Under‐twelves, maybe. But a United player all the same.

  ‘That’s great,’ Jake said. ‘I’m really pleased for you.’

  ‘It’s down to you. I owe you.’ Yunis put his hand out.

  Jake shook it. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ Yunis said, looking at his watch. ‘My dad’s waiting for me.’

  ‘Did he come after all? That’s great.’

  ‘No. He’s not here. He’ll be at the end of the drive, checking his watch.’

  ‘But won’t he be happy – that you’ve got a place?’

  ‘No. He’ll be gutted. But my mum got him to let me come. As long as I keep up with my school stuff. That’s the deal.’

  Jake didn’t know what to say. He felt a bit sorry for Yunis that no one had been there to share his moment of glory.

  ‘I’d better go,’ Yunis said. ‘I hope you get in too. I bet you do. See you later.’

  ‘See you,’ Jake said.

  He watched Yunis leave and felt glad his dad was with him, whether he got picked or not.

  The minute Yunis had gone through the door, a man burst into the dressing rooms, red in the face. He was wearing tracksuit bottoms with an England badge on the leg.

  ‘WILL! WILL! YOU’RE IN,’ he shouted.

  He ran past Jake straight to his son – a boy with short blond hair – and lifted him off the ground. The boy looked confused. His dad roared like a goal had been scored. Except he was the only one roaring. Everyone else was quiet.

  ‘I said “Yes”, of course. The forms are there to sign. You’re a United player!’

  The dad stared at the other boys, grinning at them. Then he led his son out of the dressing rooms.

  Those left behind looked at each other for a few seconds, then at the floor. They all knew that it was over. Once they stepped outside the dressing rooms they’d be told – by their dad or their mum – that they’d not made it.

  One of the boys kicked his kitbag across the dressing room.

  Jake closed his eyes. He felt like crying. He had failed at a trial.

  Again.

  The Famous Frenchman

  A few minutes later, Steve Cooper came into the dressing room. Most of the boys were ready now, but there were bags and kits strewn all over the place. No one had said anything since the loud dad had been in.

  ‘OK,’ Steve said. ‘Just to let you know that we’ve spoken to the parents we need to. And the boys, I think.’

  He looked around the room to check, Jake assumed, that Will and Yunis weren’t there any more. Jake tried to catch his eye – to say thank you. But Steve hadn’t seen Jake.

  ‘And we’ve chosen the players we want.’ Steve paused. ‘I’m sorry that you lot haven’t made it this time. Once you’re outside we’ll give you a bit of feedback on why we didn’t go with you, and what you can do to up your chances next time.

  OK?’

  Some of the lads nodded. Jake looked up at the manager, but he still hadn’t noticed him.

  Jake felt numb. Like he didn’t care if he’d been picked or not.

  Outside the dressing rooms it felt cold. The sun had gone in. The training fields looked grey. Jake scanned the crowd of parents and boys for Dad. He couldn’t see him. But he did see someone else. And he couldn’t quite believe it.

  It was the United manager. The first team manager. The famous Frenchman who was forever arguing with interviewers on Match of the Day. The man in the overcoat he’d seen when he’d been playing in the trial. He hadn’t recognized him from a distance.

  Jake had never seen him in the flesh, so he couldn’t help but stare. Until he noticed the Frenchman and Steve were staring back at him, smiling. With Jake’s dad.

  Jake’s dad gestured to him, but Jake stood still, rooted to the spot. So Dad turned to the first team manager, shook his hand vigorously and began to walk over to Jake.

  It was only when Dad got nearer, that Jake noticed he had tears in his eyes.

  At first Dad couldn’t speak. But eventually he cleared his throat. ‘They want you,’ Dad said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘They want you,’ Dad repeated, ‘to sign schoolboy forms.’

  ‘What?’ Jake couldn’t take it in. He felt like his dad was talking about someone else. ‘Yunis, you mean?’

  ‘I haven’t accepted,’ Dad said. ‘That’s up to you. We can think about it. Talk to your mum.’

  ‘They want me?’ Jake said.

  ‘You, Jake.’

  Jake came to his senses. He looked over at the United manager. The Frenchman looked back at him like he was asking him a question.

  ‘Tell him “Yes”,’ Jake said. ‘Tell him “Yes!”’

  New School

  Jake thought he’d see more people he knew at the high school.

  There were supposed to be about ten coming from his old primary school, but he hadn’t spotted any of them yet. He hoped he’d see at least one familiar face soon, to calm his nerves.

  There was a long path going up to the main building, between some playing fields. He walked through them, watching a group of older boys hoofing a football about. He hadn’t realized the school grounds were so huge. And when he got to the school he realized that was huge too. He had to look at the map they’d sent to know where to go.

  ENTRANCE 11

  Jake didn’t have a clue. He just wanted to turn round and go home.

  He de
cided he would have to ask for some help. There were no teachers around, but there were two older students – a boy and a girl – standing at one of the entrances. And they looked like they were there to help the new year‐sevens.

  ‘You all right?’ the boy said as Jake wandered up to him. The boy must have been at least fifteen.

  Jake cleared his throat. ‘Do you know where entrance eleven is? Please,’ he said, his voice coming out all high‐pitched.

  The girl smiled at him.

  ‘It’s over there,’ she said. ‘The next one along. And don’t worry. It’s a nice school: just big. If you need any more help, just come and find us. I’m Shelley and this is David. We’re in year eleven.’

  Jake smiled and said thank you. Then he went along the building to find his classroom.

  ‘Right, kids. Quieten down, please.’

  The teacher at the front of the class was medium height with long brown hair. She was younger than most teachers. Jake liked her immediately: she had a friendly smile.

  ‘My name is Miss Wing. I’d like to welcome you to the school. In this first lesson we’re all going to get to know each other. I want you to talk to the person next to you. Find out about them. And then we’ll all tell the rest of the class about our partners. OK?’

  Miss Wing wrote a list of questions on the board for them to use to interview the person next to them.

  Jake started asking his partner about himself.

  He was called Euan.

  He’d spent some of the summer holidays at his gran’s, on the coast.

  He liked sea fishing.

  His favourite book was by Jeremy Strong. But he couldn’t remember the title.

  He supported United.

  The two boys got talking about football. Jake told Euan he supported City. Euan winced: United fans weren’t supposed to like City fans. So Jake told him about the trial.

  That he was on United’s books. He hadn’t meant to. But he wanted Euan to like him.

  ‘Right. Who wants to start?’ Miss Wing said, ten minutes later, having brought the class back together.

  Euan’s hand shot up.

  ‘This is Jake. He plays for United!’

  And from then on Jake was OK.

  He had friends.

  He had people who wanted to sit next to him.

  He was the boy in 7F who’s got schoolboy terms with United.

  Scruffy

  The next few days were the best Jake had ever known.

  He was happy. Really happy.

  Every time he met someone and they asked how his football was going, he could spill the beans.

  ‘I’ve got a place at United’s Academy,’ he’d say.

  ‘What? The United?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How come you haven’t told everybody?’ they’d ask.

  ‘I didn’t want to sound like I was boasting,’ Jake would say.

  But every time he did tell someone about it, it gave him a thrill.

  His grandma and grandad even threw him a party. Family members came from miles away to join in the celebrations. It was like having an extra birthday.

  And the best bit was when Mum brought in a wrapped box – a present from the whole family: a pair of Nike T90 Laser football boots. The ones he’d wanted for ages.

  But, when the day of the first training session at United arrived the following Monday, all Jake’s euphoria had been replaced by nerves.

  He came home from school as quickly as he could and got his bag together.

  Boots.

  Towel.

  Tracksuit.

  Kit.

  The football kit United had given him included a top with the United logo on it. It felt strange having a United kit in his bag. He’d not worn it yet. How would he feel wearing a United badge? On the one hand he was happy about it: he was a United player, after all. On the other hand he felt weird: he was still a City fan.

  Jake stuffed his City top in his bag. He knew he could never wear it at the Academy. He just wanted it with him for luck.

  He took off his school uniform and put on his jeans and a T‐shirt from the weekend.

  Then he came down the stairs, ready for his dad to drive him to the Academy.

  ‘Back up the stairs, Jake,’ Dad said. ‘You’re not wearing those clothes. Get something smart on. Your school uniform will do.’

  ‘What?’ Jake couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Something smart. You have to make a good impression.’

  ‘I will. On the pitch,’ Jake said, in a grumbling voice.

  ‘And off it,’ Dad said. ‘Are you serious about this?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Playing for United. You know it’s more than just about what you do on the pitch. It’s about you representing the club. If you dress in scruffy clothes that’s what they’ll think of you as. Scruffy.’

  Jake muttered something under his breath and stamped back up the stairs to his bedroom.

  Upstairs, he pulled his uniform back on. He hated being told what to do. He hated wearing his school uniform. He hated feeling so cross and anxious.

  In the car, Jake said almost nothing. Dad asked him a couple of questions about school, but Jake gave one‐word answers and stared out of the window. As the car drove through the streets, Jake watched people walking in parks and sitting talking in pub gardens. They all looked happy. But he wasn’t happy. His stomach was tying itself in knots. And this was supposed to be the most exciting time of his life.

  As they got nearer the Academy, Jake wanted more and more to talk to his dad. He needed him to say nice things. To boost his confidence. Like he always did.

  Turning right up the long drive, Dad must have sensed Jake’s thoughts.

  ‘I know you didn’t want to wear the uniform,’ Dad said. ‘And I know you wanted to wear your jeans and trainers. But you need to make the right impression. The coaches will be looking at what sort of a person you are as well as what sort of a player.’

  Jake shrugged. He knew his dad was right. He just didn’t want to admit it.

  ‘I’m nervous,’ Jake said.

  ‘I know. And I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.’

  Jake smiled. ‘It’s easy for you.’

  ‘Listen,’ Dad said, after a pause. ‘This is your first day of being with a professional football club. You’ve worked for years to get here. But I want to ask you to do one thing for me.’

  Jake frowned. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Enjoy it,’ Dad said. ‘You’ve earned that right. And you’re as good a player as any there. Just enjoy it. Be yourself. And it’ll go well.’

  The Deadly Duo

  The Academy looked brilliant. Once they’d made it up the drive and parked next to the old stables, Jake had a chance to look at the pitches again. They were the kind of lush green you only see at the start of the season, no stud marks and no muddy patches.

  The changing facilities looked nothing like the ones at the teams he’d played for before – usually either cramped rooms in the backs of pubs, or council dressing rooms, falling apart.

  Jake was casting his eye over it all – and the gathering group of boys and parents outside the Academy entrance – when he saw Yunis.

  Yunis waved immediately and came over.

  ‘How’s it going?’ asked Jake.

  ‘Great,’ Yunis said. He looked really glad to see Jake. ‘You got a place. That’s brilliant.’

  ‘I know. I can’t believe it,’ Jake said. ‘After you went, I saw that guy in the long coat again.’

  ‘The first team manager?’

  ‘Yeah, but I hadn’t realized it was him. I must need glasses!’

  ‘Did you talk to him?’

  ‘No, but my dad did. Then they offered me the schoolboy contract. Like you.’

  ‘We’re gonna be great,’ Yunis said. ‘You and me. We’ll be the Deadly Duo.’

  Jake smiled, then pointed at the other boys. ‘Are those the other under‐twelves?’

  �
��I don’t know – I guess so.’

  Then Jake remembered Yunis’s dad. ‘Is your dad here this time? Or your mum?’

  ‘No. My dad wouldn’t be seen dead here,’ Yunis said, grinning. ‘He hates it even more now I’ve got in.’

  Jake laughed.

  ‘Right, lads.’ A loud voice cut all the conversations.

  Jake recognized the voice immediately. It was the under‐twelves team manager from the trial.

  ‘As most of you know, my name is Steve Cooper. For the new lads, I’m one of the coaches who’ll be working with you. We’re joined by three new lads this season. Yunis over there…’

  Yunis nodded at the others.

  ‘Jake, standing next to Yunis. And Will, beside Chi.’

  Jake raised his hand to wave to the other boys, and then looked over at Will. Will was the lad with the loud father from the trial.

  As Steve Cooper talked, Jake looked around him. He could tell some of the other boys – ones who’d been here the year before – were checking him out. He had that uneasy feeling he always got when he was going to something for the first time, where he knew nobody and felt that everybody else knew each other. But he was also excited. Like Dad had said, this was his first day on the books of a professional football club. Even believing such a thing was hard. He was a real footballer.

  ‘Right. Now we’re all friends,’ Steve said, ‘let’s get changed and on to the pitches. We’ll go through some basic stuff for the season once we’re all ready.’

  Ryan

  Jake walked out to the training fields with Yunis. Chi was just behind them.

  They had to go over a bridge to reach the playing fields, above a swollen river running below. Then a huge area of grass opened up before them.

  Jake and Yunis went over to talk to Will, who was tall and wiry.

  ‘All right?’ Jake said.

  ‘Hello,’ Will replied. ‘I recognize you from the trial. I thought you’d get in. Both of you.’

  ‘I recognize you too,’ Jake said, ‘when you got selected.’