‘For goodness’ sake!’ someone shouted. ‘Stop being so pathetic andhold on to the damn ball!’
Ibrahim, who’d neatly intercepted the ball as it sailed past Wodger, came to a sudden stop. ‘Excuse me, referee, but that’s a swear word,’ he pointed out. ‘Swearing is against tournament rules.’
The referee turned to the crowd of onlookers. ‘Let’s keep it clean, people.’
‘That’s all you’re going to say?’ Olly asked. ‘Billy’s dad called Ryder pathetic.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake!’ Simonson called out, as Ryder, who’d understandably had enough of being bawled at by his own team’s supporters, burst into tears. ‘Ryder?Cryder, more like!’
‘Right that’s it!’ Olly said, as the referee tried to move the game along. He wrestled off his yellow shirt and flung it on the ground.
‘Any spare tops over there, Coach?’ he called to Elliot. ‘I’ve decided to switch back. If that’s okay. And sorry for quitting in the first place, Dad made me do it.’
Before Elliot had time to reply, Jackson had joined him.
Elliot didn’t have any spare tops, and the referee soon confirmed that players weren’t allowed to swap teams half-way through a game, but if anything that only made it worse. When Simonson tried to replace the defectors, the boys on the subs bench refused, declaring that they didn’t want anyone to shout and swear at them, either.
So, there was nothing to be done but continue the match with two Brooksby players now shirtless and refusing to move.
As soon as Ibrahim passed the ball to Turner, who easily rolled it into the back of the net thanks to more of Wodger’s blocking tactics, Elliot asked the referee if he could speak to Olly and Jackson. Short on any other ideas, he waved Elliot over. Of course, I hurried after him.
‘Boys, what you’re doing is admirable,’ Elliot began, once they’d given him an enthusiastic fist-bump, ‘but you need to start playing.’
‘We’re on strike! We don’t want to play for Brooksby any more. Harriers until we die!’ Jackson said, sticking out his chin.
‘Okay, but you made a commitment to Brooksby for this cup, and you need to see it through. Plus, this is actually the best chance the Harriers have had. If you keep this strike up, then if we score another goal – or even two, and get our first draw! – everyone will say it was because it wasn’t a fair game. Now, I want you to put your shirts back on and show the Harriers that you respect them as opponents.’
Olly and Jackson exchanged glances. ‘Can we come back to your team as soon as it’s finished?’
Elliot grinned, shaking his head. ‘No.’
The boys looked stunned.
‘You can come back toyourteam. Now get back out there and give us a decent challenge.’
Despite this talk, it was clear where Olly and Jackson’s loyalties lay as they jogged up and down, looking continuously on the brink of settling down for a nap. However, the goal was yet more fuel on the fire in the Harrier bellies, and there was no stopping them.
When Ryder, still bawling his eyes out as he struggled on, knocked into a teammate, somehow they both ended up fumbling the ball into their own net, leaving the score at three-two.
The crowd, most of whom had wandered over as rumour had spread that it was a match worth watching, went wild.
‘They could only bleedin’ well go and draw!’ an older man cried in delight.
‘We could,’ Elliot whispered, his face an equal blend of joy and fear. ‘They could get a bleedin’ draw.’
Thirty seconds later, they did just that. Ibrahim took the advantage of a team reeling from their own goal, and dribbled the ball from the half-way line straight into the net.
The boys raced down the pitch to where Jan was waiting near the other goal, throwing themselves into a mass pile-up of sheer, unbridled triumph, Olly and Jackson ditching all pretence and joining them. It took Elliot running onto the pitch to remind them that they still had four minutes left before they started disentangling themselves and getting back into position.
‘I can’t believe this.’ Elliot’s eyes shone as he jogged back over. ‘We are actually going to not lose. Come on boys, three minutes and fifty-six seconds. All you need to do is keep the ball out of the net and we’ve done it.’
‘Um, that’s not quite true,’ I said, with an apologetic grimace.
‘What?’ Elliot flipped around to look at me.
‘In the first round of a tournament, if the match ends in a draw then it goes to penalties. Five each.’
Elliot’s face fell. ‘We’ve not got five boys capable of scoring from the penalty spot.’ He ran a hand over his face.
