The ball sat up invitingly on the edge of the area. Bouncing
just a yard or so off the grass.
Leo steadied himself, then swung his right boot at it. A
week ago, he would never have attempted such an audacious shot. He would have
tried to control the ball and then pass it to a teammate. Whether they were better-placed or not.
Today, though, was different. Today he was full of
confidence. He already had two goals to his name. He desperately wanted a
third. A hat-trick.
And with time fast running out, this was probably his last
opportunity to get it.
Unfortunately, his foot did not connect with the ball in the way he had wanted. He had mistimed it. Badly.
So badly, in fact, that the ball
ballooned harmlessly up into the air. It appeared to be more of a threat to the
circling seagulls than it was to the Lakeland Spurs goalkeeper.
Then, as if by magic, the ball started to loop down. Straight towards the Lakeland goal. The ‘keeper jumped to reach it. Threw both his hands high above his head. Stretching every sinew of his body in an attempt to prevent the ball from entering the net.
He managed to get the fingertips of
both his hands to it. Determinedly trying to claw it over the crossbar.
But determination wasn’t enough. Luck was on Leo’s side. The
ball entered the goal inches under the crossbar and fell just the right side of
the goal-line. The right side for Leo, at least.
To his sheer delight, he had his hat-trick!
He could hardly believe it.
Thirty minutes earlier, the game hadn’t started so promisingly.
Leo had horrendously sliced his first pass of the match off the
side of the pitch for a throw-in.
Although he knew he shouldn’t, Leo had been unable to stop
himself from glancing across at his father. Fearing the reproachful expression
that would undoubtedly greet him.
Except… there was no reproachful expression on Pete
McCarthy’s face. No look of anger. No trace of disappointment. In fact, his Dad
was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “Unlucky, son,” Pete shouted encouragingly.
“Better luck next time,” he added, giving his son a double thumbs up.
Leo couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing and hearing.
Who was this man? And what had he done with his real Dad?
A few moments later, Leo shied away from a header at the last second. Again, he waited for his Dad to scold him. Again, no scolding came.
“Keep going, Leo,” Pete roared, clapping his hands together supportively.
While a part of Leo may have found this sudden change in his
Dad’s behaviour slightly unerring, a far larger part of him absolutely relished
it. The pressure Leo usually felt on a Sunday morning had disappeared. The
weight of his father’s expectations had been lifted from his shoulders.
So much so, that Leo’s confidence quickly began to grow. His
passes instantly improved. He no longer feared taking opponents on. He started
attempting skills that he would never previously have performed for fear of
failure. Some came off. Some didn’t. But if they didn’t, then so what? He was
having fun. That’s what was important!
He still refused point blank to head the ball, though.
Goodness knows where he would end up!
His first goal of the match had arrived just after half-time.
His first ever goal for Portland City. His second followed hot on its heels.
And then, with time almost up, he had completed his hat-trick.
His elated celebration on the pitch was matched by his Dad
on the touchline.
At full-time, Leo had barely shaken hands with one opponent
before his Dad came running over to him and scooped him excitedly up into the air.
“You were blooming brilliant son,” he exclaimed, visibly
shaking with pride. “It was like watching Leo Messi rather than Leo McCarthy!”
Leo smiled. Then laughed. If only his Dad knew how accurate
this statement was.
After all, he had been Leo Messi once.
A long, long time ago.
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