Skills from Brazil

by Dan Freedman

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Mum,” Jamie had said. “I understand that you can’t come to the game because you have to work and I know that the whole reason you work is for me … for us. I was an idiot to shout at you. Will you forgive me, please?”

  Jamie’s mum had given him the warmest hug in the world.

  “Of course I forgive you, Jamie,” she’d said.

  Jamie had felt the biggest sense of relief. Nothing stressed him out more than arguing with his mum.

  “Thank you,” he’d smiled. “I really don’t think I could have played properly in this match otherwise.”

  Then Mike had said: “JJ and I have had a little idea, Karen. We’d like you to ride again. I just called the stables up at Edgemont Farm. Would you believe June Leon is still working there? She says they’ve got a lovely big horse who’s perfect for you. His name is Ivan and she says you can go up there anytime you like.”

  Jamie’s mum had cried a little bit. She’d thanked them and said she would visit the stables that weekend. Then she’d told them to get back to school as quickly as possible. She knew how important this game was.

  “Just make sure you score the winning goal for me, Jamie,” she’d whispered in her son’s ear.

  The Plan Comes Together

  Right from the kick-off, Rafael’s plan worked to perfection.

  Jamie always made sure that he was marked by Mr Duggins and, whenever he got the ball, he simply destroyed him for pace.

  The first goal was a perfect example. Dexter Talbot tackled Mr Sagrott and, without a moment’s hesitation, slid the ball through to Jamie. Jamie could feel that Mr Duggins was close behind him so he let the ball go past on purpose. Then it was just a straight race between him and Duggins for the ball.

  Jamie motored past him, barely having to go into his turbo-gear to ease away. Mr McManus came out of his goal to close down the angles but Jamie just breezed past him too.

  He looked around and saw that he was so far clear that he even waited for Mr Duggins to chug back towards his own goal.

  Jamie watched Duggins sprinting towards him before, at the very last minute, swerving his body out of the way so Duggins crashed straight into the goalpost. Then Jamie simply walked the ball into the net.

  The plan had worked like clockwork. The pupils were ahead within five minutes!

  On the touchline, the kids roared and so did some of their supporters, Mike the loudest among them.

  “That’s my boy, JJ!” he shouted proudly as Jamie sprinted over to celebrate with him.

  “That one’s for Garrincha!” yelled Jamie, leaping into the air to give Mike a high five.

  Meanwhile, standing just in front of Bernard, Rafael calmly made some extra notes in his pad. The game was unfolding just as he had hoped – but he knew it was still very early days.

  Now, with confidence coursing through their side, the pupils started to play some slick one-touch passing football, all with the aim of releasing Jamie when the time was right.

  It was Jack who spotted the next opportunity to do so. She slung a quick pass out to Jamie, who controlled the ball softly on his thigh before standing up straight to see which direction Mr Duggins was going to come from.

  Immediately, he saw Mr Duggins loping towards him. There was only a second to think, but Jamie smiled because he knew exactly what he was going to do. He waited until Mr Duggins was close enough and then, ever so sneakily, Jamie flicked the ball right between Mr Duggins’ legs.

  “Caneta!” Mike shouted from the sideline, to strange looks from all around.

  But Jamie knew what he was talking about – Jamie had just nutmegged a teacher in front of everyone! Mr Duggins tried to turn around but his big wobbly body could not contend with the pace at which Jamie was moving … instead of spinning and chasing after Jamie, Mr Duggins just toppled to the ground.

  Jamie sprinted on, flicked the ball into the air and volleyed a pass over to Aaron Cody, who met the centre with a perfect first-time finish. This was the playground of Wheatlands School but it could have been a beach in Brazil!

  Now the kids were really starting to understand that this could happen…

  From somewhere behind one of the goals, a chant began:

  “And now you’re gonna believe us…

  And now you’re gonna believe us…

  And now you’re gonna belieeeeve us…

  We’re gonna beat the teachers!”

  All around the playground the kids were now chanting and singing:

  “Pratley! What’s the score?

  Pratley, Pratley what’s the score?”

  Jamie punched the air. His team were right on track to create school history and he was now seriously in the mood.

  “He needs help!” shouted Mr Pratley. He was crouching down beside Mr Duggins and seemed to be whispering something in his ear.

  “It’s my left – I mean my right knee,” Duggins was saying, grimacing as he clutched it. “I fell when Johnson nutmegged me.”

  “Can you go in goal and give it five minutes?” asked Mr Karenza, now also on the scene. “Maybe it’ll get better.”

  “No,” said Mr Duggins, almost before Mr Karenza had finished the question. “I’m afraid I can’t continue. I’ll need to be substituted.”

  “Yes, he’ll have to be substituted,” repeated Mr Pratley now. “He’ll have to come off and we’ll have to get a replacement.”

  “But there are no subs,” said Mr Karenza. “Who can you get?”

  Jamie and Jack, who had now joined the group around Duggins, looked at each other. They knew the answer before Pratley had even said it.

  “It has to be Ms Vetterlein,” smiled Mr Pratley.

  The Move

  “I’m sorry,” said Ms Vetterlein apologetically.

  She was standing watching the game from the sidelines like the rest of the school.

  “But we’ve got a Cup Final at the weekend and I promised my manager I wouldn’t play today.”

  Jamie and Jack breathed a huge sigh of relief. They had immediately argued that it would be completely unfair if the teachers got Ms Vetterlein – she was a semi-professional, after all.

  “Of course you can play,” shouted Pratley. “You’ll have to.”

  For a second there was widespread shouting on and off the pitch as all the players, pupils and spectators had their say.

  “It you could play, Ms Vetterlein, it really would help us out greatly,” said Mr Karenza finally, attempting to restore some order to proceedings. “If the teachers’ team don’t have enough players then we’ll have to abandon the match, which would be such a shame … for everyone.”

  Ms Vetterlein looked at Pratley and then again at Mr Karenza.

  “We’d really appreciate it,” Mr Karenza repeated.

  “Go on then,” she said finally. “What harm can it do? Where do you want me to play, Mr Pratley?”

  With that, she jogged athletically on to the pitch. She didn’t even have to change because she was already wearing her tracksuit and trainers.

  As she joined the game, a cool air of fear swept around the pupils team. Ms Vetterlein was some player. Although she was nice and cheery around school, all the kids had seen her play for Hawkstone ladies’; on the pitch she was a natural-born predator. One chance equalled one goal.

  “You go up front,” Pratley told Ms Vetterlein. “I’ll take care of Johnson at the back.”

  It was the kind of substitution that could alter the whole face of the game. It was almost as if Pratley had planned the entire thing from the very beginning.

  Rafael da Cruz sprinted around the pitch to crouch down behind the goal. When he got there, he tore through his pad, searching desperately for other plans … other formations.

  The kids just could not deal with Ms Vetterlein’s movement. She seemed to have the
ability to ghost unmarked into the most dangerous positions. She had Rafael extremely worried … and rightly so.

  Three times in the space of seven minutes she worked herself free inside the box, and on each occasion, she finished with the cold touch of an assassin. She struck her first goal to Jack’s left, her second to Jack’s right and, for her hat-trick, she chipped the ball over Jack’s desperate stretch.

  Ms Vetterlein had turned the game on its head in what seemed like the flick of a switch.

  While Rafael had been wracking his brains for tactical solutions, Pratley had milked all of the goals to their fullest, cheering them loudly right in front of the kids, before leading his teammates in aeroplane-style celebrations.

  Watching Pratley’s sickening smile as he pranced around the playground like an overgrown baby had almost made Jamie puke into his own mouth.

  Yet that wasn’t even the biggest of Jamie’s problems. With Ms Vetterlein now up front, Pratley had dropped back into defence to replace Duggins, and he was an entirely different opponent for Jamie to counter.

  “Go on,” Pratley had said to Jamie during their first one on one. “Knock it past me and then run after it. Kick and chase … but where’s your skill?”

  Each time Jamie got the ball and prodded it down the line to run after, Pratley always seemed to be there, either anticipating Jamie’s run or else fouling him to make sure he couldn’t get away. Suddenly, Jamie’s threat seemed to have been eradicated.

  Then, with half-time fast approaching, Ms Vetterlein went on another direct run right into the heart of the pupils’ territory. She twisted both the Talbot twins inside and out, rendering them dizzy and bewildered, before somehow finding a powerfully accurate shot from the acutest of angles.

  Before anyone could react, the ball was in the back of the net once more.

  “Ha ha ha!!!” screamed Pratley, joyously. “This is too easy!”

  Mr Karenza blew his whistle. “4–2 to the teachers,” he announced. “And that’s half-time!”

  “No goal!” shouted Jack, suddenly rushing out from her area to confront Mr Karenza. She had a mixture of anger and panic etched on her face. “Sir! The ball went in through the side-netting – it’s no goal!”

  “Oh, be quiet, Marshall!” said Pratley. “Stop being such a bad loser!”

  Pratley bounced up to Ms Vetterlein to give her a high five.

  “Put it there, partner!” he shouted, cheesily.

  However, Ms Vetterlein left Pratley hanging.

  “She’s right, Mr Karenza,” said Ms Vetterlein. “It went in through that hole in the side netting. The goal shouldn’t stand.”

  “Whaaaat!” screamed Pratley at his teammate. “What are you doing?!”

  Mr Karenza looked at the little gap in the side of the net. Then he looked again at Ms Vetterlein for a second before blowing his whistle.

  “My mistake,” he shouted. “That was no goal. The score remains 3–2 and that is half-time!”

  How Do

  We Stop

  Vetterlein?

  “Come on, guys!” said Jamie, looking at each one of his teammates individually. “We’re only one down – and we could have been two down! This is the exact time we have to step it up. We have to fight harder, run faster and play even better.

  “If we want this – if we want to be the first pupils team to win this game – the next twenty minutes have to be the best football we’ve ever played! We can do this!”

  Jamie bit into his orange and tried to keep his body calm. Had he said enough? Had he inspired his teammates to make a comeback? Could they stop the teachers now that they had Ms Vetterlein?

  Jamie watched his teammates nod back at him. They were supporting him as their captain; they were behind him. But they also needed more. They needed a plan.

  “Rafael,” said Jamie. “How do we do it?”

  The plan was clear and concise. Rafael said that, with Vetterlein now on the pitch, it left them far too exposed at the back. They had to revert to a more defensive formation. They would switch to three men at the back with just Jamie in midfield. He even instructed Dexter and Kane Talbot to both man-to-man mark Ms Vetterlein.

  Even through his stutter, everyone clearly understood their role. Rafael was still fluent in football.

  “This whole plan relies on you and your discipline,” Rafael said privately to Jamie just before the re-start.

  “THE most important thing is that, when we don’t have the ball, you hold,” he warned. “You have to keep your defensive position, Jamie, because if you if you leave that position … you are out of the game and our whole plan is destroyed.”

  Taking the Bait

  The tactics worked. Playing three at the back with both Talbot twins marking and Jamie cutting off the supply line in the midfield starved Vetterlein of the ammunition she required.

  Yet it also meant that the pupils had no attacking threat themselves. On the rare occasions that Jamie even got the ball, he was so isOláted that he had to try and take on all the teachers by himself. It was impossible.

  All the while, the minutes were still ticking by … and the pupils were still losing 3–2.

  Then with four minutes left to go, Pratley, who was in possession of the ball, did something very unusual. He did nothing. Nothing at all.

  He did not try a pass or a dribble. He did not attempt a shot. He just stood, with his foot resting on top of the ball, waiting…

  Jamie looked at Rafael.

  “HOLD,” Rafael mouthed urgently.

  “3–2 to us, isn’t it, Johnson?” Pratley asked. “So we don’t have to attack. You have to come and get it.”

  With that, Pratley just started doing kick-ups and whistling.

  “Boooooooo!” jeered all the kids on the sidelines. “Time-waster!!!”

  But Pratley didn’t care. He knew his team just had to keep hold of the ball for three more minutes and the game would be over.

  Jamie could feel his cold fury starting to boil into hot anger.

  He knew Rafael was still mouthing that he should hold, that he should stay in position, but it was no use. The more Jamie looked at Pratley’s smarmy face and heard his stupid whistling the more the rage was growing. Then the cord snapped.

  Jamie left his holding position in the midfield and tore up the pitch at rocket speed, straight towards Pratley.

  This was exactly what Pratley had been waiting for. With Jamie now having vacated the midfield space, Pratley immediately clicked into action, playing a quick one–two with Ms Vetterlein. Then he dashed into the gap that Jamie had left behind.

  Jamie watched in horror as Pratley advanced towards the goal and drew back his foot to strike.

  Jamie knew if Pratley scored, it would all be his fault. He couldn’t let this happen.

  Just as Pratley was about to shoot the ball home, Jamie flew into the air and took him down from behind. He’d had no other option.

  Mr Karenza blew his whistle hard and loud. Meanwhile Pratley just lay on the ground. It was so obvious, he hadn’t even had to claim a penalty.

  Then he slowly stood up with a huge satisfied smile on his face. Jamie Johnson had fallen into his trap. He’d taken the bait.

  Mr Karenza picked up the ball and walked over to Jamie. “I’m not going to end the year with a sending-off – this is supposed to be a friendly game, Jamie … so that is a yellow card for you,” he said.

  Then Mr Karenza raised his voice for everyone to hear.

  “Penalty for the teachers,” he shouted. “Two minutes left to go!”

  The Penalty

  “I’m taking this one!” said Pratley, snatching the ball from Ms Vetterlein.

  “Are you sure?” she said calmly. “You do know I’ve never mis—”

  “Of course I’m sure,” he snorted. “You’ve had your goals. This one’s min
e.”

  With that, he placed the ball down on the spot and took four deliberate, slow steps backwards. Then he walked back to the ball, picked it up and replaced it in exactly the same position.

  “Booo!” shouted all the kids watching the game. “He’s time-wasting, Ref!!”

  “Better hurry it up a little, please, Colin,” said Mr Karenza, blowing his whistle again.

  Jamie prayed to all the gods of football as he watched Jack jumping around on the spot, springing into the air to prepare herself to face Pratley’s penalty.

  Everything is riding on this one moment, Jamie thought. Please – let her do this…

  Then it went deadly quiet as everyone in the school saw Mr Pratley stride purposefully towards the goal. It was this to win it.

  Colin Pratley readied himself, took aim and then fired. He thumped the ball as hard as he was able, sending it shooting through the air, heading straight for the top corner of the net.

  “Goal!” he shouted as soon as the ball left his foot.

  However, Mr Pratley did not have any idea quite how good a goalkeeper Jacqueline Marshall really was.

  Jack flew into the air like an eagle, stretching every muscle and sinew of her body towards the ball. She reached out her hand and, with the very tip of her finger, clawed the speeding ball on to the post.

  “Woooaaah!” reacted the crowd as they saw the ball rebound from the post and roll along the goal-line before Jack leapt across to smother it.

  “Yes!” shouted Jamie, sprinting over to Jack and giving her a massive high five. “That was blinding!! You saved it! And you saved me – if they’d have scored, it would have been completely my fault!”

  “What did you expect?” said Jack, laughing. “Now get upfield, will you? There’s only a few seconds left!”

  17 seconds remaining

  Aaron Cody tried one final, long, desperate pass out to Jamie on the wing. He had overhit it, though, and the ball was flying frustratingly out of play behind the teachers’ goal.