Team Player Read online

  STADIUM

  SCHOOL

  WHERE FOOTBALLING DREAMS COME TRUE

  Team Player

  Jefferies & Goffe

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Map of Stadium School

  1. Ambition

  2. Geno’s Problem

  3. Bad Vibes

  4. An Unhappy Team

  5. Desperate Times

  6. A Welcome Surprise

  7. Lunch with Luca

  8. A Big Decision

  9. Final Match

  10. All or Nothing

  Imprint

  Map of Stadium School

  1. Ambition

  “Pass it, Roddy!”

  It was a very hot afternoon for football. Sweat was trickling down Roddy’s face, but he didn’t stop to wipe it away.

  “To me!”

  Roddy was still on the ball, but now he was running into trouble in the form of three Stiles defenders. His team, Charlton, were drawing 0–0, and time was running out to grab a winner.

  They were into the final half term of Roddy’s first year at Stadium School, a brilliant, specialist boarding school for young footballers. The prestigious House Cup, awarded at the end of term and desperately coveted by each of the four houses, was still up for grabs. In addition, each year had their own mini version of the cup, and these trophies were fought over just as fiercely as the overall one.

  All the Charlton teams had done pretty well this year, and the house was stongly in contention for the House Cup. Roddy and his team-mates wanted Charlton to win it, but at that moment they were all more concerned about securing their own trophy. Stiles and Banks were so far behind on points they were almost out of the running. That left Moore to worry about. Charlton needed every point they could get to see off the threat from their rivals, and it looked as if they were heading for disappointment today. Stiles weren’t making it easy for them. They might not be in with a shout for the first-year cup any more, but they could still affect the overall result, and it wasn’t in their nature to concede even one goal without a fight.

  Roddy ignored the calls for him to pass the ball. Geno, Roddy’s best friend and Charlton’s striker, was currently a little off form. That was partly why Roddy decided to drive forward alone. But there was another reason, too. The year was almost over, and he still hadn’t realised his ambition to be made captain. Roddy felt so frustrated. He hoped that if he could grab a few more goals then Mr Jenkins, the juniors’ coach, would notice him a bit more, and see how much he deserved to wear the armband.

  It didn’t help that he’d just been sent a text by Bryn Thomas, his best mate from home. Bryn had been made captain of his team ages ago, and was crowing about it, asking if Roddy was ever going to manage to make it as captain at Stadium School.

  Roddy and Bryn had always been friendly rivals, but the text had really piled on the pressure. He imagined how great it would be to go home for the long summer break with the glory of having been captain, even if it was only for one match. So far, Keira had been captain of the firsts and their house team. How could that be right? Keira was great, but Roddy knew he could inspire his fellow players as well as she could. And recently Keira seemed to have lost her captain’s touch. Roddy felt certain that he wasn’t the only one to feel resentful instead of inspired by some of the remarks she’d been making.

  Roddy managed to steer the ball skilfully between two of the oncoming players, and was beginning to hope he’d get a shot on target when the Stiles captain, Jack Carr, tackled him and hoofed it away.

  “No way are we giving you a chance to score,” grunted the powerful midfielder, as the ball sailed through the air towards Charlton’s penalty area. “You can wave goodbye to the first-year cup. If we’re not getting it, neither are you.”

  “Why didn’t you pass?” yelled Keira, on her way to help out the backs. “I was open, and so was Geno. You can’t be the hero every game. Now get back and defend!”

  Roddy was stung by Keira’s words. He’d always prided himself in being the total team player, never hanging onto the ball selfishly when it was better to send it on. Now, when he’d tried for the first time to win through on his own, he was getting shouted at for it. He bit back a withering reply and sprinted to his own half. He was getting seriously fed up with Keira Sanders. Even if she was team captain, and his friend, that didn’t give her the right to boss him around. Roddy watched the action from a distance, imagining the match, as he always did, with added commentary.

  And the ball is back in the Charlton half, which is not what they want at this stage of the game. Moore’s victory against Banks yesterday has put Charlton’s lead in the first-year cup under threat, and they can’t afford any slip-ups.

  Jimmy Piper puts in another fantastic tackle to knock the ball away from the Stiles attacker, but it’s picked up by another Stiles player, worked wide to the wing and crossed in. Marek Dvorski in the Charlton goal cuts out the floated cross with ease, and yells at his defence. The towering goalkeeper has been instrumental in his side’s refusal to concede; Stiles must feel like they’re playing against a brick wall in goal today. Dvorski motions for his team-mates to push up, then hammers the ball away downfield. Jones gives chase, and reaches it a fraction of a second before Carr, who’s done a great job of keeping Jones quiet today. Jones spins on the ball, giving himself space to run into, and now Geno Perotti is screaming for it to be played ahead of him. Jones must surely pass, but no, he’s decided to go it alone. Jones is driving forward towards the Stiles goal, but he’s caught by Carr and another attack is closed down. That could be the last chance of the match and, yes, there’s the whistle. Disappointment for Charlton in a match they would have expected to win, and it’s not yet too late for them to give the first-year title away.

  The Charlton players trooped into the team-talk room in a foul mood. Marek was already giving his opinion on what he saw as a lack of effort put in by his defence, loudly and at great length. The defenders were shifting the blame onto Roddy and Keira in midfield for not helping out, and Geno was sitting on his own, as isolated in the changing room as he’d been up front all game.

  “Everyone, just be quiet!” shouted Sam Green, their coach. Sam was in her final year at Stadium School, and was managing the first-year Charlton team while she studied for her FA coaching badges. “We didn’t play well today, but we’ve come away with a draw, and that’s better than nothing. The first-year cup is still within our reach, we’ve just got to get through the next two games. One win should do it, but let’s try to finish the season in style. If the other years do their bit, we’ve got a good shot at the House Cup, too, and it’ll be us sitting on those lucky seats instead of Moore.”

  Stadium School was built on the site of an old Premier League football ground, and the few remaining original seats were considered lucky by most of the students. Only the cup winners were allowed the privilege of sitting on the coveted seats at the Stadium pitch, which was another reason why winning the overall competition was so important.

  “But we won’t win either of the next two games if we can’t put the ball in the net,” said Jimmy, looking at Geno as he spoke. “We can’t keep clean sheets every game. You need to score a goal now and again to help us out.”

  “I would, if I ever saw the ball,” replied Geno hotly. “How am I meant to do anything if you lot don’t pass it?”

  “Don’t blame me,” said Keira. “I wasn’t seeing much of the ball today, either.” She glared at Roddy, and then included the rest of the team in her look. “I mean, Stiles were all over us. We need to buck up our ideas. People must stop being selfish, and increase their work rate, too.”

  “You’re wrong, Keira,” interrupted Roddy. “It’s not lack of effort t
hat’s the problem. Everyone’s trying as hard as ever. When things go badly, you need to bring us together as a team, not just criticise us.”

  Keira looked a bit surprised at Roddy’s outburst, but quickly regained her composure. “Well, anyway, if we can beat Banks in our next match then we don’t need to worry about playing Moore. Maybe they’ll have to give us a guard of honour instead!”

  The idea of the Moore players having to stand in line and applaud as they walked onto the pitch for the last game of the season was an appealing one, and it cheered everyone up. But first Charlton had to start playing better again, and beat Banks in the next game.

  “That’s the spirit!” said Sam. “Now I’m off for tea before it’s all gone. Hurry up and get showered if you don’t want to miss out!”

  “Is that right, what Sam said?” Geno wondered aloud. “Will we really win the first-year cup if we beat Banks?”

  Jimmy looked up from picking mud out of his studs. “What do you reckon, Marek?”

  The goalie shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Roddy?”

  Roddy thought for a second, under the questioning gaze of his roommates. “I’m not absolutely sure. The points are a bit complicated. Because of the 25-point goal bonus, I guess it’s never really over until the last game, but we’re 300 points ahead of Moore now. If we both win our next game by the same amount, they’ll need to beat us by three clear goals to take the title. 250 points for the win, and 25 for each goal would be a 325-point swing. But we’re not going to let that happen, are we?”

  “No way,” replied Geno. “But I’d better find my form again, hadn’t I?” He was looking worried, but gave Roddy a smile anyway. “Come on,” he said. “You lot are taking ages. Last one to tea has to share his pudding!”

  2. Geno’s Problem

  Despite what Sam and Keira had said, the main topic of discussion at tea that night among the Charlton first years was their poor performance in the match. Even on the way back to the boarding house, Roddy and Geno were still at it.

  “How come you wouldn’t pass to Keira?” asked Geno. “In the whole game I think you only gave her the ball about twice. She was in great positions, and you kept losing it. And that last time, you should really have passed to me.”

  Roddy thought about Bryn’s text and sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. But Keira’s really getting up my nose at the moment. She’s always telling us what to do.”

  “But she’s captain,” said Geno. “That’s her job. And you’re vice captain, her second-in-command. You need to be working with her. Today our midfield fell apart with you two ignoring each other. Usually your partnership is invincible.”

  “That’s just it,” Roddy said angrily. “Old Jenkins and Sam both talk about our wonderful partnership, but it’s not really a partnership, is it? Not when Keira’s been wearing the captain’s armband all year. I think she’s getting too big for her boots. When’s it going to be my turn?”

  Geno stopped walking and looked at his friend in surprise. “Look, I know you want to be captain,” he said. “But you must admit Keira’s done well. We’re really close to winning the first-year cup. She may be getting a bit up herself right now, but isn’t it worth dealing with for just a little longer to get our hands on the trophy?”

  “I suppose so,” Roddy agreed reluctantly. “But you do agree she’s been getting a bit much?”

  Geno thought for a second. “Yeah. You’re right. She has. And you’re not the only one who’s been complaining. It’s the firsts, too. Ali told me that Keira gave him an earful when he fluffed a pass during our match against West Ham last week. He reckons she’s got big-headed because the firsts have done so well.”

  Roddy nodded his agreement. “That’s what I mean. Everyone, including Mr Jenkins, has been telling her what a fantastic job she’s done. But she needs to forget about that and think about us. She seems to have forgotten that we all want to win, and to succeed we need an inspiring captain, not a bossy one.”

  “True,” said Geno.

  “So…” Roddy began eagerly, but Geno was frowning.

  “You kicking off about wanting to be captain won’t help anything. You just need to keep being the best you can and wait for your chance. Anyway, I think the pressure’s getting to everyone. I’m starting to really worry about not being able to score goals.”

  Now it was Roddy’s turn to stare at his friend. Geno had always seemed quietly confident in his own ability, even when things weren’t going so well. And with the season nearing its conclusion, they needed his goals more than ever.

  “You’ll be OK,” Roddy said encouragingly, “I know you haven’t scored recently but you just need the opportunities, like everyone does. I’ve been a bit selfish lately, but I’ll try to keep making chances for you. What’s got you thinking like that, anyway?”

  “Something Jack said to me at half-time,” replied Geno. “He said I’d never be half the player my dad was.”

  “Don’t pay any attention to Jack,” said Roddy, “You know he tries to put all of us off. He just likes playing mind games.”

  “But what if he’s right?” said Geno quietly. “I’ve got a huge amount to live up to. There are so many people expecting me to be as good as my dad. He’s a legend back in Italy; Parma retired his number nine shirt after he left. They say it’ll only be brought back for another Perotti.” He looked dismally at Roddy. “That means me! Sometimes I wish I’d never taken up football.”

  Roddy was amazed. He’d heard of Geno’s dad from his days in the Italian national team, and his later years when he settled down in the English leagues, but he hadn’t realised quite how big a deal Luca Perotti had been in his home country. He understood now why Geno felt he had a lot to live up to.

  “No one can expect you to be a copy of your dad,” said Roddy, feeling sorry for his friend. “I mean, it would be great if you did end up wearing that shirt. Imagine it! But you’re your own person. If I were like my dad, I’d be selling flooring, not here playing football! No matter who our fathers are, all we can do is try our best.” He paused. “Has your dad ever mentioned that he’d like you to be good enough to wear his shirt?”

  Geno shook his head. “No. But he doesn’t need to. It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  His friend’s problem had made Roddy forget for a moment that he was thoroughly disgruntled at not making captain. “Come on,” he said, trying to think of a way to take Geno’s mind off his famous father. “Let’s see if anyone fancies a kickabout.”

  With the days much longer, summer term was great fun at Stadium School. There was plenty of time in the evenings to get in a game of football, even if it was just kicking a ball around outside the boarding house and practising a few tricks. Every week it seemed someone had picked up a new idea from the weekend’s matches on TV, and slowly it would spread round the school. Today, Roddy wanted to try out something he’d seen over half term. He described it to Geno as they went up to their room to grab a ball.

  “The forward was running towards the defender, and sort of spun around the ball then went off in a different direction.”

  “Oh, right, I think my dad showed me that once, a while ago. Like this?” Geno did a sort of hopping spin, but without a ball it was hard to tell.

  “Could be, yeah. Show me outside.”

  “You coming, Jimmy?” said Geno, pausing at the door.

  The burly defender nodded.

  “And you can count me in, too,” said Marek.

  While the four friends went outside, they listened to what Geno had to say. “I think the move is called a Marseille Roulette. Maradona did it all the time and made it famous, but apparently it was invented by some English player.”

  “Cool!” said Roddy. “Let’s practise somewhere Jack can’t see us. I want to get one over on him in training tomorrow.”

  Soon, Roddy and Geno’s troubles were pushed to one side, as they concentrated on the only thing that really mattered to any of them… Football.

  3. Bad Vibes
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  The next evening, Roddy, Marek and Jimmy were in the common room having a game of table tennis. They were playing winner stays on, but one of them always had to be left out.

  “Where’s Geno?” said Jimmy. “If he was here, we could play doubles.”

  “I think he’s in our room. Go and see if he wants a game, Roddy,” said Marek, as he served the ball to Jimmy.

  “OK.” Roddy headed upstairs. He was about to push open the door to their room when he heard Geno’s voice coming from inside. For a moment, Roddy wondered who he was talking to, then he realised Geno must be on the phone. He was about to go back downstairs, when he heard his own name being mentioned. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t resist moving closer to the door. He strained to hear what Geno was saying.

  “Roddy not passing really affected the team in our last match, and I don’t know what I should do. He says he wants to be captain, and he’d make a good one, but Keira’s been great until recently, and there are only two games left. We’d really like to win them both, even though one would do, so I don’t think…”

  Geno paused; obviously the other person was talking.

  “No, I haven’t said anything to Sam or Mr Jenkins about it yet. It only happened yesterday … but the team’s really feeling the pressure, Dad, and…”

  It was his dad – Geno was on the phone to Luca Perotti! Roddy would have loved to be able to get the advice of a footballing legend any time he wanted, but it wasn’t so nice hearing himself being talked about as the problem. How dare he! Roddy hadn’t told his best friend how he felt about not making captain to have him talk about it to his father! What if Luca Perotti phoned the school to complain that Roddy Jones wasn’t passing to his son enough? He was so influential, he might even get Roddy dropped from the team.

  In spite of the warm evening, a chill went through him. Roddy had to admit that Geno had a point. He probably should have passed more often to him and Keira yesterday. But he needed support, too. How would he ever make captain if he wasn’t given the chance to shine? And what sort of a friend was Geno if he was thinking of complaining about him to Mr Jenkins?