Free Kick by Tom Palmer (that summer book .TXT) 📕

sailed towards the penalty area, James made a short run forward. He knew he had a minute left as a United player. This could be his last touch of the ball.

James jumped. Like he’d seen his dad jump in the cup final when he scored his famous goal.

James met the ball with his head. It rocketed towards the net. The keeper got his hand on to it to push it over the bar for another corner, but it was too powerful.

The ball was in.

Goal.

Two–one.

James was aware of three things when his team-mates leaped on his back.

His mum and dad grinning on the touchline.

The Chelsea players slumped, some kneeling, defeated.

And the hundreds of watching fans applauding.

Applauding James’s last goal for United.

There was a short ceremony at the end of the game. There were winners’ and losers’ medals and the presentation of the Christmas Cup.

Lots of the fans stayed on for the awards, plus the four teams.

After United had collected their medals, Ryan turned to James. ‘You go and collect the trophy, James,’ he said.

‘I can’t,’ James said. ‘You’re the captain.’

‘Please,’ Ryan said. ‘Go on. It’s your last chance.’

‘But I shouldn’t. You should.’

‘You scored the winner,’ Ryan said.

James smiled. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Ryan.’ Then he looked over at his dad.

And so, standing a few yards away, Cyril Cunningham, former West Ham and England player, saw his son step up to collect a football trophy for the first – and last – time.

He smiled, joining in the applause.

Thursday 22 December

Chelsea 1 United 2

Goals: Ben, James

Bookings: none

Under-twelves manager’s marks out of ten for each player:

Tomasz

8

Connor

7

James

10

Ryan

9

Ronan

7

Chi

6

Sam

6

Jake

8

Yunis

7

Will

7

Ben

9

Karaoke

Back at the accommodation, the whole team had gathered for the Christmas party. There were streamers across the canteen, balloons and lots of food.

And the Christmas Cup was sitting – pride of place – on the main table.

Secret Santa presents had been received. Jake had got Ryan a United scarf. Yunis presented Steve with a Superman mug. And Ryan gave Tomasz a football story, but one that had been translated into Polish.

Tomasz beat James’s dad in the FIFA 10 final, though most people reckoned the former England international let him win.

As Steve had promised, the party finished with karaoke. Most of the lads did famous Christmas songs, with mixed results. Steve and Will’s mum sang a duet of a song called ‘Little Drummer Boy’.

Everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves. Chi had made up a scoreboard to score each song. Steve and Will’s mum got nines. Ryan and Ben got fives for singing ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’.

Then, eventually, it was James’s turn. He took the microphone from Steve, suddenly looking nervous.

The room went silent.

And then James began to sing.

The atmosphere in the room was different from how it had been for the other songs. This time it was serious. The boys had stopped laughing and making fun. They were listening.

James was singing like a real singer. It was amazing.

And the team soon realized who the song was for. It was James singing to his mum and dad. After all that had happened over the last few days, he was singing a song for his parents.

Will’s mum listened. She was smiling.

At the end of the song there was silence for a moment. Then Chi put up his board.

Ten.

‘That was wonderful,’ Will’s mum said.

James smiled. ‘Thanks,’ he said.

Then he felt his dad’s arms come around him in a huge bear-hug. And his mum too.

FIFA 10 Final scores

James’s dad

5–7

Tomasz

Father to Son

‘That was brilliant,’ Dad said. ‘I never knew… You were excellent. This is what it’s all about, isn’t it?’

James smiled. He hadn’t even needed to tell his dad what he wanted to do instead of football. His dad had guessed it straight away.

‘Thanks,’ he said.

‘Did you ever talk to your mum about wanting to be a singer?’ Dad asked, glancing over at his wife.

‘No. But…’

‘… but she knew?’ Dad finished his sentence.

‘She knew something was up.’

The party was going again now. Loud voices were calling out and someone else was singing.

‘Why didn’t you talk to us about it?’ Dad said.

‘I didn’t want to upset you. Because I know football means so much.’

Dad nodded.

‘And when we went to West Ham,’ James said, ‘and all those mates of yours were telling me I was going to lift a trophy like you did that day…’ James paused. ‘Well, it did my head in.’

Dad smiled. ‘I know,’ he said.

They were silent for a minute.

‘How did you feel about playing your last game?’ Dad asked.

James grinned. ‘Good,’ he said.

James thought his dad was going to say something, but he just breathed out.

‘Do you understand why I want to give football up?’ James asked.

‘To sing?’ Dad shook his head. ‘No, James. Not really. But I respect it. It’s your choice.’

‘I like football. But I don’t want it to be my life,’ James said. ‘Like when you were saying I’d have to be more involved once I’m fifteen. I just don’t want to.’

‘I understand that,’ Dad said. ‘It was my life for twenty years. Football. Football. Football. But that was before you were born.’

‘I want to do singing,’ said James. ‘At school they think I’ve got a chance.’

‘A chance of what?’

‘Of becoming a real singer – for a job. I could go to that music college in town. I love it, Dad. I know it’s stupid – wanting to sing – but I –’

‘Who said it was stupid?’ Dad demanded. He sounded angry.

‘It just is,’ James said. ‘Football’s cool. Skateboarding is cool. PSPs are cool. But singing?’

‘Singing is brilliant,’ Dad said. ‘And I’m really proud you’ve found something you love.’

James smiled. His dad supported him and he couldn’t believe it. He wished he’d told him about it weeks ago.

Thank Yous

Thank you, as always, to my wife, Rebecca, and daughter, Iris, for their ongoing support and encouragement with my books. And to Rebecca in particular for