Goal

Goal by Henry Farley

The team mumbled between themselves, not used to being put in such a difficult situation. The school scheduled the first team to play a crucial match at the weekend, and a win could send them to the top of the league table. This would be their last chance for a practice game before the big match. It would give them a springboard on which to develop their strengths and mask their weaknesses.

“I’d rather play a man short,” said Colin, testily.

“I know he won’t play the same as Mike but we’ll be using a zonal system when we play on Saturday so we need a full team to get used to it,” replied Greg, who seemed to win the argument on replacing Mike with that comment. “Greg turned to me and said, “You’ll take Mike’s place, but don’t try to be heroic, just pass the ball to one of us or clear it upfield if our goal is in danger, OK”

“Yes,” I replied meekly. I didn’t want to get to deep into the strategy of the game as this would be my one and only appearance in the first team. I don’t know how I got into this mess. Playing football under the scrutiny of the whole school was not comfortable. Greg had informed the class they were a man short for the practice match and everyone seemed to have other commitments, except me.

I haven’t got a sporting bone in my body and although I like to keep fit; I don’t play team games. My class has sports every Wednesday afternoon and I have to take part then, but when they’re picking teams, I usually end up surplus to requirements. Finding myself in a key position was a shock.

Greg tried to give me a little encouragement, “Don’t worry Frank, the game will fly by before you know it. We’ll try to protect you the best you can. You’ll be defending the left flank so any time the ball runs towards you just boot it upfield. The right winger of the opposing team isn’t that skilful so its unlikely he’ll be doing any fancy dribbling to get around you.”

“If they know I’m playing left back, they may change their attack strategy,” I mumbled. “They’ll want to go for the weak link.”

“Don’t worry, it’s only a practice match, and besides, Colin will look after you,” replied Greg.

I followed my other team members down to the changing rooms. Our opponents were already changed and having a kickabout on the playing field. They looked big and strong, and I thought they all probably had ten times my playing skill.

Colin shouted across, “Get ready for a thrashing!” which incurred a barrage of jeers. The opposition were a team of old boys of the previous year who were almost as successful as the current team which helped fuel the rivalry.

I got changed quietly, taking my time so I could follow the rest of the boys onto the playing field. Nobody talked to me as we changed, apart from the odd word from Greg. He was the team captain and probably felt obliged to try to keep my spirits up. I tried to shake off my feeling of isolation and adopt a positive attitude. The only option was to make the best of my situation. Forty-five minutes for each half. Surely, I could manage that!

The opposing team were aware of the greenhorn in the left back position and started attacking the flank in waves. I tried to fend off the attacks with Colin behind me to take the ball off the attacker when he inevitably got around me. The scoring attempts gave the goalkeeper a good workout who made save after save. The opposition scored the first goal from one blistering attack close to half time when the ball was crossed perfectly onto the head of their central striker. I felt responsible, I tried to prevent the cross, but there was nothing I could do!

At half time we went into the changing room down by that goal. Not one of my teammates blamed me, which made me feel part of the team for the first time. Greg explained the opposition were obviously picking on the team’s weakness, knowing Mike was injured and unable to play. “Let’s just accept that they are going to score more goals and all we have to do is score more of them. Don’t worry Frank, you’re doing a grand job,” Greg lied, “but unfortunately you’re going to see a lot more action in the second half.”

Greg was right, goals started to fly in from both sides and with 5 minutes to go both teams were level at 6 each. I had got used to running about, usually chasing the ball with no benefit, but I was getting the odd tackle in and making clearances. Not that my skill was comparable with my teammates, but I was contributing.

Suddenly my team started an attack in the dying seconds of the game. Colin screamed at me to run forward to defend from a high position and avoid playing their strikers on side. I ran as fast as I could to catch up with the forward line and reached them just as Greg tried to curl a ball around the goalkeeper. Running at a frantic pace, I wanted to stop suddenly, but my momentum carried me forward, launching my body head first. The ball hit my head, wrong footing the goalkeeper and sending it into the opposite corner of the net. It seemed to happen in slow motion and I ended up with my face in a mud pat.

When I lifted my head up my teammates were cheering and two of them ran over to pick me up, patting me on the back and telling me it was a great goal. Greg was aware of what had happened and smiled ironically. His shot would have gone into the net, I just intercepted it to make the move look even more spectacular, as if we planned it. The two teams went back to the centre circle to restart. We went through the motions, but there wasn’t enough time for the other team to equalise and we finished up winners by seven goals to six.

The mood of the team was euphoric as we got back to the changing rooms. The captain of the other team congratulated Greg on a sweet move in scoring the winner and looked over at me and nodded his approval. I nodded back like a footballing veteran. Everyone was patting me on the back and saying what a neat move my flying header was. I explained that Greg’s shot was heading for goal, when he interrupted me and told everyone I was hiding my light under a bushel. What an excellent result! For the first time in my life I ended up looking like a hero.

My smug expression was hard to hide when I got home. My Mum knew I wasn’t looking forward to the match and acted surprised to see me beaming from ear to ear. “It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be?” she asked as she was pouring me a cup of tea.

“I wasn’t very good compared to the other guys, but I didn’t make too many mistakes and I enjoyed the second half.”

“That’s when you scored the winner.” came a voice from the back door. “I heard you scored in the dying seconds of the match. Everyone was patting me on the back down at the club, saying it was a spectacular goal, a flying header no less!”

“It was a fluke, Dad, honest. Greg Horton sent in a curler and it just caught my head, sending the keeper in the wrong direction. I couldn’t do it again in a million years.”

“After the game on Saturday the team is going to celebrate, win or lose, and they’ve invited you. That’s a great result too! They see you as part of the team,” said my Dad.

I couldn’t do anything about being rewarded for a flukey goal. Why should I worry, because by the weekend after next, most people will have forgotten about it.

The next day at school, I collared Greg and apologised for stealing his goal. “It was a brilliant move, and even if it was an accident, take it. Gifts like that don’t come often, so enjoy the praise while you can.”

For the next two days, I couldn’t go far without someone stopping me and congratulating me on my goal. The other guys in the team were used to receiving such praise all the time, but I usually moved about anonymously. I even got smiles from one or two girls, which definitely had never happened before. The rush of reality grabbed my brain. Everyone was misinterpreting a fluky accident, which I could never repeat, if for no other reason than I’d never play in the first team again. Take Greg’s advice and enjoy your 5 minutes of fame, I thought, it won’t come by again.

A video was taken of the goal and put onto Facebook. There were a 1000 hits on the first day! The local newspaper took a picture of the goal from the video and gave it pride of place on their sports page. It was all very heady stuff.

On Friday Greg pulled me aside and said there was a first team meeting after school and as I was an honorary member I should go along to it. I was flattered so I went with him and everyone seemed please to see me. This type of acceptance felt good, and it was something I could get used to, if I could find a football team that played at my level. Greg had an announcement to make and asked for silence.  With a very solemn expression, he said, “We’ve got a problem.”

“Problems are nothing to us,” shouted Colin to a rapturous cheer.

“Well, this one is beyond our control. Mike had an X-ray on his leg this morning and was told there was a small crack in his shin bone. It’s nothing serious, but he won’t be able to play for about five weeks.”

There was silence. “I know the obvious answer,” piped up Colin.

“Let me confirm what you’re thinking. We have to get a new player to fill his position,” said Greg. As the sentence faded in the air, all eyes turned to me in unison.

“You’re not suggesting Frank, are you?” said Colin.

“You were all praising him earlier,” said Greg.

“Yeah, that’s because we thought we wouldn’t be playing with him again,” replied Colin. “I had to work twice as hard as normal in our warm up match. The opposition’s gonna be much stronger tomorrow and I don’t know if I’ll have the energy.”

“He’s right,” I said. “I can’t play like Mike and I would only drag you all down. What everyone’s been saying, apart from Colin, is nice. But the goal really was a fluke. You could say I fell into it.”

“The first goal was your fault,” said Greg, “but in the second half you did well and you played with passion. I think you’ll do a good job. After all, it’s only a game of football,” he smiled. He turned to the rest of the team, suggesting they take a vote on whether I should be in the team tomorrow.

Greg cut up a sheet of paper into 10 pieces and passed them to the other team members. “Just put yes or no on the ticket and hand it back to me,” he said, smiling at the discussions his teammates were having. “Don’t compare your answers, this should be an individual decision, just work on your gut feeling.”

They wrote the scraps of paper on and returned them to Greg. He started opening them and counting, “One, two, three...five..eight, nine and ten... yeses. Looks like you’re in Franky boy!”

“I looked around my teammates, who were all smiling at me. “What have you got to say?” shouted Colin.

“You bastards,” I replied, and everyone laughed. It was one of the greatest, most uplifting moments of my life. I didn’t care what happened on Saturday, the important thing was I was playing with my friends.

The next morning we ran out onto the playing field and Greg grabbed me by the shoulder saying, “This time play from the kickoff!”