Chapter 9

The Portland City under 11s had never seen anything like it. Nor had the Deanview Juniors under 11s. Or the watching parents for that matter.

For the third time in just under 10 minutes, the Portland right back skipped speedily up the wing. Once again, he used a combination of skill and speed to get past an opponent. Then, having left the Deansview left-back for dead, the boy lifted his head and spotted Matt darting towards the back post.

Without breaking stride, Leo used his right foot to whip over an accurate low cross which arrived at the unmarked Matt’s feet just a few yards from the goal. The outcome was inevitable. Goal for Portland City.

In the blink of an eye, the game had been completely turned on its head. Suddenly it was 3-1 to Portland. And right-back Leo had set up all three goals.

The first time Leo had set off on a saunter up the wing a few minutes earlier, Bernie had yelled at him to get back in defence. To boot the ball forward and return to the halfway line where “he was supposed to be.” 

But Leo hadn’t listened. He’d decided to ignore his Grandad. 

Although he knew that you should never disobey your coach, he’d decided that Bernie wasn’t his coach. Not really. What’s more, he didn’t even play for Portland City. Not officially. Not yet. In fact, he wasn’t even born yet. What was the worst that could happen?  

Following his brief chat with Pete at half-time, Leo had decided that from now on he was going to play football purely for enjoyment. Always with a smile on his face. He hadn’t enjoyed the first-half. Not one single bit. He was determined to put that right in the second half.

So, while Bernie had stood on the sideline, waving his arms manically and ordering Leo to “stop playing silly beggars”, his future grandson had merely continued his progress upfield.

Bernie was still going mad seconds later, even after Leo’s eventual cross had been hammered into the net by Trev. “Don’t ever do that again,” he'd warned, seemingly not in the slightest bit bothered by the fact that his team had equalised.

Moments later, Leo had done it again. With the exact same result. Trev converting another pass from the right back.

“That’s enough of that now,” Bernie had said, although he was now starting to sound like he didn’t really believe what he was saying.  

During Leo’s third foray forward, the coach hadn’t bothered to try and hold him back. He'd just stood there. Gobsmacked by what he was watching. An attacking right back? Who would have believed such a thing? 

He had to admit that this Leo Messi fella could certainly play a bit.         

Now Leo was enjoying himself. He was playing football with a smile on his face. And he was arguably playing better than he’d ever played before. 

Despite the fact he was only ten-years-old, he realised this was no mere coincidence. Having fun was the key.

Minutes later, he was at it again. Waltzing up the wing. The Deansview defence melting before him like a chocolate fireguard.

Glancing up, the rampaging right-back observed that he had options in the middle. Both Trev, and the team’s other striker, Paul, had found space inside the 18-yard-box. Matt was steaming in at the back post. But Leo ignored all of them. He wanted to get Pete involved. 

His future father was still only on the periphery of the game. Still being criticised by Bernie for every small error that he made. Still not looking like he was enjoying himself. Leo had now made it his own personal mission to change this situation. He was determined to draw some praise from his grandfather in his Dad's direction.

Shaping as if to cross the ball, Leo fooled everyone by instead neatly backheeling it to Pete. As everyone had been expecting another of Leo’s pin-point deliveries, Pete suddenly found himself with plenty of time and space on the corner of the penalty area.

“Shoot,” urged Leo.

“Cross it,” instructed Bernie from the touchline. “You’re not good enough to score from there!”

Pete hesitated. He didn’t know what to do for the best. The hesitation was enough for the Deansview defence to reorganise themselves. Two opponents were now closing him down. Fast.

A pained expression of doubt was painted all over the young Pete McCarthy’s face. “Just do it, D…” Leo managed to stop himself from using the dreaded ‘d’ word just in time. “Just do it, Pete. I believe in you!” he implored.

The defenders were now just a couple of paces away. There was no more time to think. Pete drew back his right leg, then propelled it forward as fast as he could. The ball flew from his foot as if it had been fired out of a cannon. He couldn’t have struck it any sweeter.

Seconds later, the ball smacked into the back of the net. In fact, it went right through the net. Although whether this was down to the power of the shot or the unruly state the goal nets were in, was open to debate. 

Not that it mattered either way. Pete had scored a truly amazing goal. Of that there could be absolutely no debate. 

A brief stunned silence followed. A stunned silence that was ended by a howl of pure ecstasy. 

“What. A. Goal!” came the ecstatic cry. It was a cry that elicited even more stunned silence. For it had come from Bernie.

The coach was jumping up and down on the touchline like a lunatic. An expression of pure pleasure lit up his usually dour features. He removed his flat cap from his head and flung it high in the air before catching it. Completely lost in the moment.

Taking a cue from their excited coach, all of the Portland City players piled on top of Pete. Even Wayne waddled over to congratulate him. Prompting Matt to quip that it was the furthest he’d ever seen the portly goalkeeper run. Wayne didn’t refute the jibe.

Now Pete was smiling. Broadly. So, too, was Leo. He couldn’t remember having ever felt so happy before.

Even when he heard Bernie suggest to Pete a few minutes later that the shot had been nothing more than a miss-hit cross, it didn’t spoil his buoyant mood. It was clear his Grandad was joking. There was a twinkle in his green eyes. A look of pride on his face. An expression that was mirrored on Pete's.

Leo was pumped. He could almost feel the adrenaline surging through his veins. There was nothing he couldn’t do. And he was determined to prove it. To himself, as opposed to anyone else.

From the restart, Deansview passed the ball back to their goalkeeper, just as they had right at the start of the match. Once more, the goalkeeper picked it up before lumping it forward, sending the ball spiralling high into the air.

As it descended, it was heading right towards Jamie. There was no one around him. The tall centre-back’s eyes seemed to sparkle as the ball dropped rapidly in his direction. He really did love a header.

To the defender’s surprise, though, he heard a call. A call that caused him to take a step away from the falling ball.

“Leo’s,” Leo yelled, determined to prove to himself that he no longer feared heading a football. Not anymore. Not the new confident Leo. 

Fearlessly, Leo leaped into the air, eyes fully fixed on the spherical object that was now only a metre or so above his head.

He quickly drew his neck back. Ready to nod it forward. Attempting to make sure it would be his forehead that made contact with the ball. Not the top of his head.

This was it. His moment of glory. His fear of heading was gone. Forever.

Then he did the one thing you should never do.

He shut his eyes.

The ball smashed him hard in the face.

And, seconds later, everything went black.

Again.

The final chapter (and epilogue) to be released on 13th August 2024

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