Golden Goal (15 page)

 

 

“Welcome back to The Lair, where we can bring you news of a big half-time substitution. This should shake things up a bit… But it's not the change we were expecting … Jamie Johnson is still on for Hawkstone…

“In fact, it's Foxborough who have made the change. They have brought on their prolific young centre forward Antony Asamoah…”

“You better have a good excuse, Jamie,” said Harry Armstrong as Jamie dashed out on to the pitch to join the rest of the Hawkstone team.

“I'll explain everything to you later, gaffer,” Jamie insisted. “I promise you.”

“Forget about that,” said Armstrong. “Just do your talking on the pitch.”

Then the second half kicked off.

Bolt's height and pace made an instant impact on the game. The Hawkstone defence had to drop far deeper because they were scared of him running in behind.

But what was even worse was that Jamie could tell instantly that Bolt was on fire. He was on a mission.

As Hawkstone were preparing to defend a free-kick on the edge of their area, Jamie ran back into his own half and shouted to his teammates: “Oi! Watch him, yeah?” pointing to his old room-mate. “He's dangerous.”

Almost as soon as Jamie had uttered those words, Dave Lewington stepped up and floated in a beautiful free-kick to the far post. It bounced once before Bolt, as brave a lion, dived in where boots were flying to get in a header. It was a bullet of an effort. And it was Foxborough's equalizer.

“No!” Jamie yelled, kicking out at the advertising board by the side of the pitch. He'd
warned
them about Bolt!

From that moment, the Foxborough fans couldn't stop singing.

“Champions! Champions! Champions!” they cried, roaring with pride.

They knew a draw was good enough for them to retain the league and they were confident they would get it.

And while the Foxborough fans were cheering and lifting up replica trophies in the stands, on the pitch, their players simply kept the ball. It was all they needed to do.

Every time the ball went out of play for a goal kick, the Foxborough keeper took what seemed like an age to retrieve it, carefully place it down, take a deep run back and then launch it into the air. Everyone could see he was running down the clock, but there was nothing the Hawkstone players could do about it.

It was during one of these breaks in play that Harry Armstrong sprinted up to Jamie.

“Jamie, I want to make a change,” he said to his young winger.

“No, boss, please don't sub me! I can still do something, I can feel it!” Jamie pleaded.

“No, that's not what I mean,” said Harry, lowering his voice so the Foxborough players couldn't hear what he was saying. “I want you to come in off the wing, play in the hole behind the strikers. And just stay up there, don't worry about coming back.”

“Sure,” smiled Jamie. He liked playing in that position. “But who's going to do my defending?”

“You're looking at him,” said Harry. “I just want you to stay central and get yourself involved in this game. We need you on the ball.”

“OK, boss … if you're sure?”

“Eh, Jamie,” said Harry, throwing his hands up in the air as he jogged back into position. “What've we got to lose?!”

 

 

Jamie looked up at the massive clock behind the Foxborough goal. There were now only six minutes left. Six minutes to save Hawkstone United.

Jamie knew, everyone knew, that if they went down, Hawkstone would go bust. They had too many debts to survive outside of the Premier League. It was simple: relegation would kill Hawkstone.

Jamie couldn't let that happen. Not to the Hawks. They were his club. Always would be.

He had to do something.

“Yes,” Jamie yelled as soon as he found a yard of space. Harry Armstrong laid the ball into his feet. “Turn!” he shouted, to tell Jamie there was no one behind him.

Jamie spun and accelerated towards the Foxborough goal. He weaved past two challenges, pushing the ball on to his favoured left foot. Now Rick Morgan surged across to try and stop him.

One of Jamie's step-overs was enough to take him past Morgan. He was close now, close to the Foxborough goal. The ground had fallen silent; everyone was waiting to see what Jamie Johnson would do next.

The clock seemed to stop as Jamie looked up. He saw that the keeper was off his line. He was going to try the chip … but he was taking too long … Morgan had caught him up now … Morgan was lunging at him now…

Before Jamie could get his shot away, Morgan had flown into him from behind, ferociously mowing him down.

He trapped both of Jamie's legs under his heavy frame in the challenge.

Jamie crumpled to the ground.

He could see Rick Morgan spitting as he stood up and looked at Jamie, bearing his fangs.

For a second, Jamie thought he was going to be OK.

And then the pain came.

Jamie's body gasped for air. He felt as though he was drowning in a sea of agony. He held his hand out in the air. He needed the medics. He felt his left leg. It was trembling… But was it broken?

On the Hawkstone bench, Archie Fairclough put his head in his hands. This was his worst fear.

In the stands, Jamie's mum clutched Jeremy's hand. She was pinching it so tightly her knuckles were going blue.

Next to her, Jack Marshall closed her eyes. Her body shivered as she breathed in desperately. Jamie's pain was hurting her too.

“You OK, son?” said the referee, leaning over Jamie's prone body on the ground. “Do you need a stretcher?”

Jamie couldn't talk. The pain had paralysed him. He could only cover his eyes with his hand to hide the hurt.

Jamie had never felt torture like this before. It ripped up through his leg like a hundred daggers all stabbing him at the same time.

He wanted to cry, die, or whatever it took to make the pain go away.

He saw his teammates' anguished faces huddle above him as he fell deeper and deeper into the ground. They were talking to him but he couldn't hear them.

Somewhere in the back of his brain, a word was ricocheting around Jamie's senses:
irreversible … irreversible … irreversible…

“Where is it, Jamie?” asked the Hawkstone physio, rushing to get his painkilling spray out of his bag. “Tell me where it hurts.”

But Jamie couldn't speak.

 

 

Almost as if to protect himself from the pain he was in, Jamie's mind had left the stadium and gone to a different place...

He was a little kid again, back at Mike's house, sitting on the couch, showing Mike all the grazes and cuts on his knees from where the other boys had fouled him.

They'd always fouled him. It was the only way they could stop him.

Mike was putting a plaster over his wounds and scuffing up Jamie's hair with the palm of his hand…

Back on the pitch, the referee was calling Rick Morgan over to him.

“You've had your last chance,” he told Morgan. “You knew what you were doing.”

He was reaching for his pocket now…

And then, suddenly, a massive roar erupted from the Hawkstone end of the ground. The Hawkstone fans had leapt to their feet. They were cheering now, punching the air.

Because they had seen Jamie Johnson slowly haul himself to his feet!

As he stood up, the first thing that Jamie saw was the referee reaching for his red card to send Rick Morgan off.

“No! Don't do that!” appealed Jamie, limping towards the referee.

“What? Are you OK?” said the startled ref, looking Jamie up and down.

“Yeah, no problem,” smiled Jamie.

Inside he was still in agony, but he didn't want anyone to know. Least of all Rick Morgan.

“Look, I'm sure Rick didn't mean it, ref,” said Jamie. “I'm fine. Let him stay on. Let's play eleven versus eleven.”

It was difficult to see who was more confused, Rick Morgan or the referee. They both looked at Jamie as though he'd just come back from the dead. And neither of them could work out why he was trying to save his direct opponent from being sent off…

In the end, the referee simply shook his head and said, “All right, Rick. But this is your last chance!”

Then he put his card away.

“How's the leg?” Harry Armstrong shouted across to Jamie.

The Hawkstone player-manager looked nervous. If anything happened to Jamie, he'd never forgive himself.

Even though his leg was still throbbing and sore, Jamie smiled back at his manager.

He was smiling because as the pain started to ease with each passing second, Jamie knew that something huge had just happened.

Little did he know it, but Rick Morgan had just done Jamie the biggest favour of his life: he'd given Jamie the tackle that he'd needed to prove, once and for all, that he was over his injury.

“I'm gonna be fine, Harry,” Jamie yelled. “My leg … it just passed the test!”

 

 

Jamie bent down and straightened his shin pad. Then he looked up and stared Rick Morgan straight in the eye.

You're only on the pitch because I saved you from being sent off
, Jamie said with his glare.
You're on this pitch because I want you on this pitch…

And now I am going to finish you.

“Play it short,” Jamie whispered to Glenn Richardson, who was standing over the free-kick.

Without saying anything, while the Foxborough wall was still trying to organize itself, Richardson flicked the ball subtly to his left. To Jamie…

Jamie collected the ball and charged towards Rick Morgan. He charged at him with such speed and power that Morgan seemed spellbound, unable to react.

“Come on,” Jamie roared aloud as he soared towards Morgan. “Let's see how hard you are now,
Wolf!”

Every single Hawkstone fan rose to his or her feet. Jamie Johnson was in full flight.

Jamie passed the ball from one foot to the other as he approached Morgan. Then he lifted his head and looked up at his opponent.

In his eyes, he could see Morgan's fear. They both knew that Jamie was going to take him. It was just a case of when. And how…

Now
! Jamie shouted to himself inside his brain.
Take him now! Destroy him!

And with that, Jamie dug deep into his body to find another level; a level he'd never been to before. From somewhere deep inside, he found an extra yard of pace.

As he rocketed forward with a lightning burst of speed, he felt so powerful it was almost as if he were running with the strength of two people.

He swept the ball outside and inside the full-back, hypnotizing Morgan with his snake skill.

Morgan's ageing body could not keep up with the rapid changes in direction. His legs twisted around themselves as they tried to chase after Jamie. But it was useless; Jamie was too quick…

So, in the end, after all his taunts and threats, the only thing Rick Morgan could do as Jamie sped away from him was … fall over.

He sat on his bum like a baby.

Jamie didn't bother to look around. He was clear.

He cut into the area and drew back his left leg.

It was the leg that had been in plaster. The leg that had lost half its muscle mass while Jamie had been in hospital. The leg that was held together by a bunch of metal screws.

Jamie gathered all the power his body had ever possessed and channelled it into a strike. His foot flashed into the ball, pelting a supersonic rocket of a shot soaring towards the goal.

It was unstoppable.

The ball scorched into the top right-hand corner of the goal. It nearly ripped a hole right through the net!