Striker Boy Kicks Out (27 page)

Mabena paused for a second, looked wistfully at the trophy, then picked it up and handed it to the Wildman. The captain, a man totally committed to the ‘whole team' ethic, did not raise the trophy aloft yet. He would only do that when all of his teammates had received their medals. So he walked to the end of the platform and waited.

Nat watched Emi, Kelvin and Jensen receive their medals from Mabena. Then it was his turn.

Those eight or nine steps felt as dramatic as a moonwalk for Nat and it seemed to take him forever to get there. But suddenly Mabena was shaking his hand and placing a gold medal on a white and blue chord around his neck.

“Very well played, young man!” said the Talorca President. “It's always good to see new talent coming through. Both goals were beautiful!”

Nat thanked him and walked over to the others. It was a well thought out presentation because each of the Rangers substitutes also received a medal, saving them from that bizarre situation of celebrating a trophy with no medal, even if they'd appeared in the group games.

When everyone was through, the Wildman and his players turned to face their shrieking band of supporters, and the Hatton Rangers captain lifted the trophy high above his head. The supporters roared with joy and the Wildman, eager to share the spoils, passed the trophy to Emi. As he lifted it up, the fans yelled again. Emi knew exactly who he was going to hand the trophy on to – he quickly passed it to Nat.

Nat held the handles of the beautiful silver prize and raised it as high as he could. The fans yelled his name and they were joined by his teammates. In many ways, this was Nat's hour.

The rest of the players each took a turn lifting the trophy and then it was time to run over to their supporters to parade their historic first. Ian Fox and Stan Evans – who'd
also won medals – accompanied them, although their celebrations were more muted than that of their players.

Nat's immense joy was suddenly tempered as he thought of how much his mum would have loved to have seen this moment – out on a Spanish pitch, the hero of a trophy-winning performance.

But as the fans' voices grew even louder and the players jumped over the barrier surrounding the pitch and went right up to them, Nat told himself again to enjoy the moment.

The supporters reached out to shake hands with as many of the players as possible. Nat's hand was shaken at least a hundred times, his hair was ruffled constantly and one older supporter even managed to squeeze his cheek.

Lots of fans also got a chance to touch the trophy, as the Wildman, in extravagantly generous spirits, held it out to them. Fans also placed Rangers hats on the players' heads and scarves round their necks. Nat soon had three hats balancing precariously on top of his head.

With one last round of handshakes and mutual congratulations, the players stepped back over the barrier, gave their fans one last wave and began the walk back towards the tunnel. A couple of photographers made them stop for team photos, which they posed for with pleasure.

Andy Young had the cup now and he was dancing and swinging it above his head, an act that made Nat and everyone else laugh crazily. He looked like Nobby Stiles had done after England won the World Cup in 1966.

The Wildman ran over to Nat and gave him a playful punch on the arm.

“Nat Dixon!” he cried. “What the hell would we do without you? You saved our skins against Man United and now you produce two acts of wizardry! Are you human?”

“It was a team effort!” protested Nat. “Everyone got stuck in!”

“You're right about that,” agreed the Wildman, “but every great team is built around one special player.”

Nat felt a brittle lump in his throat at these words, but then Emi leapt onto his back and placed a fourth Rangers hat on top of his already teetering pile. Nat whacked Emi with the Rangers scarf he'd been given.

The joyous party walked down towards the tunnel and Nat took one last look around the stadium. It was rapidly emptying, but the Hatton Rangers fans remained, singing at the tops of their voices. Nat scanned the huge stands and the powerful floodlight beams, savouring the sights, smells and noises. He then dragged his eyes away and followed his teammates into the tunnel, their studs echoing on the concrete floor, their spirits probably higher than those of any Hatton Rangers players in the club's history.

In the changing room, there was singing, conga lines, chanting, back-slapping and general merriment, which was louder and more raucous than anything Nat had experienced before.

“We've won the cup!” sang the players, the trophy still being passed amongst them.

And then there was a knock on the changing room door and a representative from Phone Valve came in to offer his warmest congratulations and to remind them that their victory had just earned them a very large pot of extra sponsorship cash from his company. This was met by a whole new round of screaming and shouting, and the man's hand was squeezed almost to a pulp.

A few months ago Rangers faced financial ruin. Now things were looking up. How fortunes could change!

After the Phone Valve man left, there was more singing and chanting, and Nat could feel his voice going hoarse on account of his vocal efforts. But he didn't care. He'd played a part in the club's history and hopefully not just today's fans, but fans in the future would get to hear of his and his teammates' exploits tonight.

A few minutes later, there was another knock on the door. Stan Evans stepped out and when he came back, he informed Fox that Helen Aldershot was waiting for him to attend a post-match press conference.

“Tell her I'll be a couple of minutes!” called the boss. He then bade everyone sit down, and took a long look round the room at the exultant faces.

“Well, well, well,” he said softly. “Three months ago if anyone had told me we'd be where we are right now, I'd have bitten their head off for taking the mickey. But I look at all of you and I know tonight is real. I am proud to serve as manager of this club and I am proud of every single one of you. You were lions out there tonight. The match had everything, but you conducted yourselves with
the utmost professionalism and you are a credit to Hatton Rangers Football Club.”

He stared for a few seconds at the silver trophy, currently being held by Graham Dalston.

“I know it's not the Premier League or the FA Cup, but for all of us in this room, this is a massive deal – a gigantic feat. I want to thank you all for the commitment you've shown, not just this week, but throughout the last few months, through the dark days when relegation had us by the collar. I'm delighted for all of you and your families, and for everyone connected with this great club. Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I have a press conference to attend.”

As the Rangers manager stopped speaking, there was a cacophonous outburst of applause from his players and Nat spotted tears in the eyes of Pierre Sacrois and Andy Young.

“We can watch him!” shouted Stan Evans, flicking a switch on a television at the side of the room and pushing it out so it took centre stage.

A Spanish sports presenter was talking to camera and replaying highlights of the final, including Nat's goals, both of which got a massive cheer from his teammates. And then it was off to a small room flanked by glass windows. A minute later, Ian Fox walked in and sat down at a table in front of several microphones. It was amazing nowadays how many sports channels there were, and the fact that every single game and tournament attracted media attention.

A question was shouted out in Spanish and a Talorca club official translated for the Rangers manager. “How much did you enjoy tonight?”

“It was alright, I suppose,” replied Fox, deadpan, before his face creased into a smile. “No, to be truthful, I loved it! To win a trophy at a tournament containing such fine teams is a real achievement for any club.”

The next question came in. “This is the first piece of silverware in your club's history. What do you plan on winning next?”

“The Champions League!” replied Fox. “But joking aside, I'd be delighted with a top ten finish in the Premier League.”

“No disrespect to your club, Mr Fox, but did you believe before the game that you could beat a side as big as Talorca?”

“I think that
is
disrespectful,” scolded Fox, in a mock-teacher voice. “Just because we don't have the financial resources of an Arsenal or a Barcelona, doesn't mean that we can't compete at the highest level. I think we showed tonight that good organisation and planning, and massive commitment from players, are what win games.”

“Did you support your team withdrawing from the pitch after the racist behaviour of a section of the crowd?”

“If you'd seen my reaction on the touchline, you'd know that I supported them one hundred per cent, as did the Talorca manager and many of the Talorca team. I'll be very interested to see the referee's match report and how FIFA respond to this disgraceful incident. There's
absolutely no room in football for these kinds of hateful people. They should be weeded out and kept a million miles away from any football match.”

Nat and the rest of the changing room yelled their approval.

“How did you think Nat Dixon played tonight, and is he a big part in your future plans?”

“Dixon did well tonight,” replied Fox.

There was an enormous cry of disbelief in the changing room.

“What's he on about?” laughed Emi incredulously. “Nat won us the game!”

“He's a very young player,” went on Fox. “He's only at the very beginning of his career and he still has a mountain to climb before he's a settled player. He did show several sparks of brilliance, but I want to emphasise that tonight's was a first class
team
performance, and that all of my players deserve this trophy. It was their hard work that won it.”

Cheers erupted in the changing room.

“Do you think your victory will mean you'll have an easier ride in the new Premier League season?”

“Football is a competitive sport,” sighed Fox, “particularly in England. There is never an easy ride in the Premier League. Ask any foreign player in our league about our game and they will tell you that when they first arrive they are shocked by the ferocity. Up there with La Liga and Serie A, it's the best league in Europe. We're delighted to win here tonight, but when we return to
England, the hard work will begin. Now thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I have a squad to celebrate with.”

And with that, he swept out of the room. Stan Evans switched off the TV and the singing, led by the Wildman, started up all over again. A few minutes later, Fox returned to the changing room and went round to every player shaking their hands and thanking them.

“Well done, Nat,” he said, with a firm handshake. “They were both good goals.”

That was it, but it meant a lot to Nat.

It took over an hour before the players were all sung out, and, clutching the trophy tightly, the Wildman led everyone outside. The players' families were waiting by the team bus and they let out deafening rounds of cheers and applause. The wives, girlfriends and children mobbed them. In the melee, Nat was grabbed by his jubilant father.

“Nat – you were magnificent!”

“Cheers, Dad.”

“It was an outstanding performance, Nat. The second goal was a peach. I am SO proud of you!”

“It was great to be out there and score. The sound was incredible. It made the Ivy Stadium feel like a school playground!”

“Well, Ian Fox can only be pleased with you. You've got to keep working hard for him and the team, and who knows what will happen.”

“Shall I meet you before Mabena's lunch thing tomorrow?”

The families of the two finalists were invited to attend.

“I probably won't have a chance because I've got some paperwork to do for this job and I need to email it to the guy who's in charge. I'll see you there.”

“When's your flight?”

“I tried to get on the team one with you, but there's no space, so I'm getting the 5.10. Well done again, mate. You were superb!”

“OK, everyone!” called Stan Evans. “You'll all have plenty of time to see each other tomorrow. We need to be heading back now!”

After more hugs, kisses and tears, the players clambered onto the coach.

The journey to the hotel was raucous and when they arrived back, the staff had hung up a huge sign over the front entrance:

CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR GUESTS – TOURNAMENT WINNERS, HATTON RANGERS FC!

It was a nice touch and the players appreciated it.

Fox limited the players to a couple of drinks, but Adilson – who didn't drink – and Andy Young, who hated alcohol, joined Nat in an apple juice. There was a piano in the hotel lobby and Pierre Sacrois amazed everyone by rattling off some show tunes, which everyone sang along to.

The other hotel guests, most of whom had no idea who Hatton Rangers were or what they'd achieved that night, were either intrigued by what was going on or thought
it too loud and retreated to their rooms. At midnight the hotel manager approached them apologetically and asked them to curtail their celebrations. Evans and Fox stepped forward and said of course they would ensure that the riotousness stopped. And it did. Ian Fox's inner disciplinarian re-emerged and he told his players that sleep awaited them, because they had a formal lunch the next day, and in a couple of days time they'd be back in full training.

There were groans all round but, led by the Wildman, the players accepted this ruling. Cabs were called for Nat, Emi and Kelvin and the party broke up. Stan Evans went round, handing everyone their ID cards for Victor Mabena's lunch the next day. No pass, no entry. Nat tucked his into his trouser pocket. He then got massive hugs from everyone, before getting into his cab and driving off into the night.

Inés was in the kitchen and she stood up the minute Nat walked in.