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Chapter 6

 

Leo was uncomfortable.

The coarse material of his football shirt was irritating his skin. He didn’t know what these older kits were made out of, but it certainly wasn’t the same stuff that modern kits were.

The rough shirt was causing his skin to itch. The constant craving to scratch was driving him mad.

His nipples were particularly sore. He could feel them chafing as they rubbed against the inside of his shirt whenever he moved.     

Even though it wasn’t an especially cold morning, Leo wished he had a vest with him. 

All the other boys were wearing them. Well, nearly all of them.

Pete wasn’t allowed one. His Dad wouldn’t let him. It was obviously a source of huge frustration for Pete, and something that the others found hilarious. They had teased him mercilessly about the situation whilst getting changed. Once Bernie had left the room, of course.

The shirt wasn’t the only piece of kit that Leo was finding uncomfortable.

If anything, the shorts were even worse.

They were just so… well… short. Ridiculously so.

When he had first pulled them on, he’d initially believed a wrong-sized pair must have somehow found its way into the under 11’s kit bag. They fitted like a pair of tight-fitting pants. A size-too-small pair of tight-fitting pants, in fact. They barely reached the top of his thighs.

He was just about to point out the mistake when he noticed something. Something that left him flabbergasted. 

All of the boys were wearing shorts that tight. This was obviously how they were supposed to be. He couldn’t believe it.

Leo couldn’t stop himself from wondering what was wrong with people’s fashion sense all those years ago. And they had the gall to criticise his green football boots!

He didn’t say anything to anyone, though. Most of the others already thought he was a bit peculiar. He didn’t want to give them any more fuel for that particular fire.

It was now just a few moments before kick-off. Leo had never felt more underprepared for a game in his life.

There were four reasons for this.

1: He was playing an 11-a-side game. A match format he had no prior experience of.

2. He was a school year younger than the rest of the boys.

3. He had been asked by his coach – his dead Grandad! – to play in a style completely different from what he was used to.

4. He still hadn’t kicked a ball since he’d woken up in the muddy field an hour or so earlier.

When he played for the modern-day Portland City Under 10s, Leo’s coach made sure his players got plenty of touches of a ball before kick-off. 

They had a variety of drills they would run through every Sunday morning. These ranged from individual dribbling exercises to games of keep-ball. 

Usually, by the time a match kicked-off, Leo was warmed-up and ready for action.

That certainly hadn’t been the case this morning. Bernie clearly had no intention of further preparing his team for the game. He’d told them what he wanted them to do inside the changing room. Job done. 

The coach was now standing alone on the sideline, puffing contentedly on a hand-rolled cigarette. Keeping no more than half-an-eye on the boys as they warmed up.

Not that there was much actual warming-up going on.

From the moment they had stepped onto the pitch, all most of the boys had done was smash multiple balls at the team’s hapless goalkeeper; a chubby lad called Wayne.

From his laboured movement, it was clear that Wayne was not a natural athlete. Leo’s normal team’s goalkeeper was forever flying acrobatically across his goal, making spectacular saves that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Match of the Day

Okay, so there were occasions when he may have made his saves look a tad more dramatic than they strictly needed to be. Quite a lot of them, actually. But that wasn’t the point. He simply loved diving around and getting muddy.

Not Wayne. 

Any time a ball travelled anywhere but straight at him he’d simply wave an arm defeatedly at it and claim: ‘nah, can’t reach that. Too far away.’ Agility was obviously not his forte. Or moving. 

That said, quite how Wayne, was supposed to save any of the six balls that were flying towards him simultaneously, Leo had no idea.

Jamie must have noticed the worried expression on Leo’s face as the new boy watched ball after ball pass by the static ‘keeper.

“He’s only in goal coz he’s rubbish on pitch,” said Jamie, fairly loudly. Loud enough for Wayne to have heard, Leo thought.

If he did hear, then the goalkeeper didn’t seem too bothered by the insult. In fact, Leo was almost certain that he saw Wayne nod his head. Like he totally agreed with Jamie’s spiteful comment. 

“Plus, he’s quite a big lad, so he fills more of the goal than the rest of us,” the lanky boy added, matter-of-factly.

This time, Wayne definitely nodded.

Not once during this ‘warm-up’ did a ball land at Leo’s feet. The younger boy was too shy to ask for one. And he sincerely doubted he would been passed one anyway. The others were having too much fun firing balls past the unmoving Wayne. Occasionally at him.

The only other boy who didn’t seem to be too bothered about blasting balls at the goal and joining in with the banter, was Pete. 

Leo’s future Dad stood slightly apart from the rest of the boys. On the fringes of the group but not in it. Not really.

Momentarily, Leo considered going over to speak to him. But he just couldn’t quite bring himself to do so. The idea of talking to a younger version of his Dad was still too weird!

Now, as he waited for the ref to blow his whistle to start the game, Leo couldn’t help but think how Pete didn’t seem overly happy.

The older version was forever boasting about how much tougher he was than Leo. About how he enjoyed the game far more than his son. About how he wasn’t so sensitive.

But that wasn’t the impression Leo was getting. Bernie’s barbs obviously negatively affected Pete. More than the boy realised. Or was prepared to admit. 

Leo could totally relate. He often felt the same way whenever Pete – the adult version – criticised him.

The child Pete may have hidden his disappointment better. May have acted tougher. But this didn’t mean he actually was tougher.

There wasn’t time to dwell on this thought, though.

A long, shrill blast from the referee’s whistle filled the air.

The match was underway.


Chapter 7 to be released on 10 August 2024


Text and image copyright © David Fuller

 David Fuller asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior permission of the author or publishers.

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