‘Before this game they couldn’t,’ I said, trying to sound encouraging. ‘Who knows what they can do now.’
‘Our only hope would be that Brooksby are all so terrified they miss.’
‘Not impossible, then.’
‘You think?’
I slipped my arm through the crook in his elbow. ‘About as impossible as us drawing with Brooksby FC in the first place. Whatever happens, it’s been a brilliant day.’
But in the end, it didn’t get to penalties. When a frantic Brooksby player, having been yelled at for being a wimp, threw himself at Dyson, knocking him to the ground with mere seconds to spare, the referee had no choice but to award a penalty to the Harriers. This having never been envisaged, there was a hasty scramble to decide who would take it.
‘Let the boys choose,’ I said, in a blatant copout because my heart was so high in my throat I couldn’t think straight.
‘Who wants to take it?’ Elliot called to where they huddled in trembling anticipation.
‘Dyson should,’ Wilf said. ‘It was him who got pushed over.’
‘No thank you!’ Dyson said, with a vigorous shake of his head. ‘Being encouraging and giving us all a fair chance is fine most of the time, but we could win if we score this! It’s, like, the most important kick ever!’
‘Okay, who wants to take our most important kick ever?’ Elliot asked, only to be greeted by a lot more shaking heads as the boys started to back away. ‘Come on, someone has to take it.’
For the first time, none of them had anything to say.
‘Wilf?’ I asked, knowing that in all fairness he was our best shot.
Wilf blinked a few times. ‘I would, only I promised Mum she’d see my first goal and she’s not here yet.’
I checked my watch. I knew Connie was ducking out of work to come along, and should have arrived ten minutes ago. ‘How about we film it?’
‘But she promised to be here.’ Wilf’s hands gave a warning twitch. ‘I said I won’t score if she’s not here. That’s why she promised.’
I whipped out my phone and dialled her number.
‘Jessie, hey. Traffic’s terrible but I’m seven minutes away. Have I missed it?’
‘If you really put your foot down and dodge around the side of the barrier, then sprint across to the right-hand corner where the big crowd is, you’ll be just in time to see Wilf win us our first match.’
‘What?’
‘We need him to take a penalty but he won’t unless you’re here.’
‘Right. Stuff the speed cameras. I’ll be there.’
The referee came over, impatient to get the match over with, and when Elliot pleaded for more time, the response was a firm no.
‘I won’t do it without her. Ibrahim will have to take it instead.’
Ibrahim responded to that by throwing up on his boots.
‘Your mum’s a couple of minutes away,’ I reassured Wilf, as Ibrahim’s parents rushed over. ‘Start getting ready and she’ll be here.’
Wilf gave me a slow nod. Half-way towards the penalty spot he suddenly discovered a stone in his shoe. After painstakingly undoing his lace, hunting for the non-existent stone and taking what felt like forever to wrestle his foot back in before doing the lace up again, ensuring the ends were precisely the same length, a bug then flew in his eye. When the referee ordered us to use someone else, he fortunately blinked it away and slowly took his place on the spot.
‘I think there’s something wrong with the ball…’
‘Either take this penalty in the next twenty seconds or you forfeit the match.’ The referee was purple with exasperation.
‘But my mum!’ Wilf’s face began to crease up in panic.
