Chapter 5

 

Bernie McCarthy was a big, powerfully-built man. He was so tall that he constantly had to stoop as he prowled around a small, square room, located inside the portable building. Even then, the flat cap that he wore pulled tightly on top of his head, occasionally brushed the low ceiling.

At a push, you might reasonably have expected to squeeze six, possibly seven, standard-sized 11-year-old boys inside this room. Fitting 11, plus a frankly gigantic man, was a quite remarkable achievement.

Leo was thankful that the newer portable building that must have replaced this one at some point in the intervening years, was far larger. And a good deal cleaner.

There was complete silence inside the makeshift changing room. All 11 boys watched Bernie as he circled the centre of the floor, carefully stepping around a black kit bag. His log-sized arms folded against his barrelled chest. 

The coach hadn’t asked the boys to be silent. He hadn’t needed to. He was such an instantly imposing figure that all 11 players had stopped chatting the moment he’d set foot inside the room.

It was what Bernie expected them to do. So it was what they did.

While everyone in the team may have been looking at the coach, one boy was observing the man particularly closely.    

As Leo sat in the smelly changing room, leaning forward to avoid making contact with the ominously mud-splattered wall behind him, he meticulously studied Bernie McCarthy.

Aside from the deep-set pale green eyes, Leo couldn’t detect any resemblance between Bernie and the adult Pete McCarthy. Bernie’s hair was much darker, while a brown bushy beard, flecked with grey, covered much of his face. 

Leo tried to imagine what his Dad would look like with a beard and darker hair. He supposed he might have looked a bit similar, but… not really.

Pete and Leo obviously took after Pete’s mother – Leo’s Nanna – when it came to looks. And height.

Once he seemed satisfied that the already completely silent boys couldn’t possibly be any quieter, Bernie began to speak. The man spoke as you would probably expect a man who looked like him to. Confidently, in a deep, booming tone. A voice that commanded – and demanded – respect.

The content of Bernie’s teamtalk – if that’s what you could call it – was unlike anything that Leo had heard before. 

Basically, everything Bernie said, was the exact opposite of what his own coach had ever told him.

“Remember, no messing about with the ball at the back,” Bernie growled. “Get it forward, quickly. Always. Try and aim for the corners, for Pete and Matt to chase. But if you can’t do that, launch it high over their defence for Trev or Paul.”

Ten boys nodded. Leo just looked confused.  

He’d always been taught to try and play out from the back. To never just boot the ball aimlessly upfield. If he, or anyone else, ever made a mistake then it simply didn’t matter. Making mistakes is how you learn. That’s what his coach was constantly telling him. That it was all part of the game. Trying to do the right thing was what was really important.

Leo considered what would happen if he made a mistake this morning. He quickly deduced it was probably best not to think about it. The first gentle stirs of butterflies started to flutter in his belly.

“Make your tackles count today, boys,” Bernie continued, the volume of his booming voice going up a notch. “Especially the first one. Let the player you’re up against know you’re there. Try and win the ball, but if you don’t…”

Bernie didn’t finish the sentence. He didn't need to. The nonchalant shrug of his hulking shoulders, coupled with the menacing glint in his eyes, suggested that Leo’s Granddad wouldn’t be overly disappointed if his players were to ‘accidentally’ kick their opponents instead of the ball.

The butterflies in Leo’s stomach had now multiplied. Substantially.

Having given the true meaning of his words a couple of seconds to sink in, Bernie promptly continued his teamtalk. 

“Don’t be like this great big wet lettuce, last week,” the man said, pointing directly at his son, Pete. “I’ve seen his hamster put in harder tackles than what he did against Heath Hill.”

Pete attempted to shrug off the comment. Tried to smile. To prove that he could take the jibe. But he didn’t quite manage to pull it off. The red flush on his cheeks, which had turned the same colour as his hair, along with his suddenly hunched body language, gave away his true feelings. The words stung. More than he would ever let on.

Only Leo noticed the boy’s discomfort. Everyone else was too busy laughing and poking more, what they considered to be harmless, fun at their friend.

For his part, Leo couldn’t help but think that the young Pete looked the exact same way that he himself felt when the older Pete criticised him.     

The jesting at Pete’s expense stopped the moment Bernie started speaking again.

“But you all know what the most important rule of all of football is by now, don’t you, boys?”

More nodding.  

“When in doubt…” Bernie began.

“Knock it out!” ten boys gleefully cheered.

To judge by the delighted expression on Bernie’s face, you could have been forgiven for thinking he had just won the lottery. “Good boys. Love to hear it,” he said. A broad smile spread across his face, and his light green-eyes sparkled with joy.

Seemingly satisfied that he had reached the end of his teamtalk, Bernie clapped his hands together twice. “Get changed into your kit then, boys,” he said, gesturing towards a black kit bag that was lying open on the floor. “I want you outside in five minutes.” With that, he turned in the direction of the door. Took one step, then stopped. Spinning on his heels in a surprisingly delicate manner for such a big man, he placed himself directly in front of Leo.

Without meaning to, Leo instinctively cowered. This man may have been his grandfather, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hugely intimidated by him. If anything, it probably made the boy feel even more in awe of him.

“New boy, what’s your name?” the man asked.

Leo tried to answer, but the words caught in his throat.

“It’s Leo Messi,” Jamie answered for him, as Leo sat there, seemingly unable to talk.

 “Alright, Jamie,” Bernie said, glancing quickly at the tall boy. “I’m sure he can speak for himself. You can talk, can’t you, boy?” he added, turning his attention back to Leo, suddenly sounding unsure.

Leo nodded, but still didn’t say anything.

“And where do you play, Mr… er… Messi?” Bernie pronounced Leo’s pretend surname in a way that suggested it was the strangest second name he’d ever heard.

The question brought a slight ripple of laughter from some of the other boys, who suddenly realised that the newcomer shared his name with one of the Mr Men.

“He reckons he can play anywhere. A right little superstar, apparently,” Matt answered, before Leo had a chance to reply. “I reckon it’s those weird boots of his. They must be magic,” he added, sarcastically.

“Will you lot let the boy speak for himself,” Bernie roared, a little louder than he probably meant to. He frustratedly rolled his eyes, an action which somehow caused his eyelids to flicker. “This true, boy? Your versatile, are you?”

“Y… y… yes. Fairly.” Leo squeaked, just about managing to find his voice.

“Hmmm,” Bernie considered, tapping one of his chunky fingers against his hairy chin. “Well… you’re too small to play at centre back or in centre midfield,” the coach mused. “I could play you on the wing or up-front, but then I’d have these four Herberts moaning at me all blooming morning,” he continued, pointing in turn at Pete, Matt, Trev and a boy called Paul, who also played up-front. “Probably makes sense just to stick you at right-back. That’s where Troy normally plays, and as he’s not here today it makes sense just to put you there instead. You’re a bit smaller than what I’d ideally like to play in defence, but you’ll have to do, I suppose.”    

The boy with the weird haircut, who Leo had since learned was called Andrew, smiled to himself. This is exactly where he had predicted Bernie would play him.  

“You’ll be playing behind Pete,” Bernie continued. “So you’ll probably have to do a lot of tackling. You can be sure that he won’t put his foot in. The great big softy.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Leo noticed his future father bow his head in shame. “That sound alright with you,” Bernie concluded. Although it was phrased as a question, the man didn’t say it like one. It was an order. Leo was playing right-back and that was that. 

Leo nodded. Bernie was just about to turn and leave again, when the boy mustered up the courage to ask a question.

“Am I allowed to go forward?”

Not for the first time that morning, Leo was surprised at how a seemingly innocent question could provoke such an extreme reaction.

Bernie looked at the boy in the same way you’d probably look at a three-headed, green skinned alien.

Averting his gaze away from the stunned look on Bernie’s face, Leo noticed, much to his bemusement, that his teammates wore similar expressions. He decided to just look at the floor instead.

“Why would you need to go forward?” Bernie asked, sounding genuinely baffled by the suggestion. “I said you’re playing in defence. You don’t need to cross the halfway line. Your job is to win the ball, and then get it up the field as quickly as possible. Got it.”

Again, it wasn’t a question.

Leo nodded, without removing his eyes from the floor.

Bernie remained staring bewilderedly at the boy for a moment or two longer, before finally turning away. “Get changed,” he called over his shoulder, as he exited the changing room.

The moment he was out of sight, most of the boys dived towards the kit bag. All of them desperately rummaging through it. Pushing others out the way. Frantically searching for their number and a pair of shorts and socks the right size.

From somewhere beneath the scrum, an orange number 2 shirt was flung at Leo. It landed right on his head, momentarily covering his face.

“There you go, superstar,” said Matt. “Number 2 for our right back. Even if he does want to be an attacking one,” the curly-haired boy added, before laughing hysterically. It was as though the very concept of an attacking right back was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Matt’s laughter was echoed by most of his teammates.

“Where did he get that crazy idea from?” Leo heard another boy ask. He wasn’t sure who it was.

Frustratedly, Leo yanked the shirt off his face. The butterflies in his stomach began to dance wildly.  

The sport he was about to play may have been football. But Leo knew that this game was going to be very different from anything he’d ever experienced before.

Chapter 6 to be released on 9th August 2024

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