T.J. and the Cup Run (4 page)

Jamie’s dad looked at his watch. ‘Eat your cake, you lot,’ he said, ‘and then we’d better get going.’

‘Just a small piece please, Mum,’ said Jamie, and everyone laughed. Jamie had been so unfit earlier in the term that Mr Wood had dropped him from the school team for a while.

‘You ate three big slices on your last birthday,’ his mum said.

‘Not any more,’ replied Jamie. ‘Not if I want to play in goal for Wanderers one day.’

They all stared at Jamie. Just a few weeks ago he had hated the idea of going in goal.

‘Actually,’ said Rob, ‘there was a fat goalkeeper who played for England once in 1897. He was called Fatty Foulkes and they think he weighed a hundred and fifty kilograms.’

‘Well, I bet he wouldn’t have got in the Wanderers team for tonight,’ Jamie said laughing. ‘And Dad’s right. We’d better go.’

There were five of them besides Jamie – Tulsi, Rafi, TJ, Rob and Rodrigo – all
squashed
into the back of the Carters’ battered old people-carrier. They parked in a car park on the edge of the city and walked in towards the ground with thousands of other spectators. TJ could feel the nervousness in the air. Wanderers hadn’t been playing well in their European games.

‘I don’t reckon Jones has got it any more,’ TJ heard a man say.

‘He was rubbish when we played this lot last time,’ his friend agreed.

‘Can’t see us winning if he doesn’t play though.’

‘I wish I’d talked to Marshall,’ Rob said to TJ, as the two men moved away. ‘Those men were right. Marshall’s very important, but he’s not back up to his pre-injury speed yet.’

‘I bet the Wanderers manager has thought of everything,’ TJ replied. ‘He’s not stupid, you know.’

The Wanderers pitch was brilliant green
under
the floodlights as they found their way to their seats. The Champions League banner fluttered in the middle of the pitch as the teams ran out and the anthem played. ‘Maybe we’ll be on TV,’ said Jamie. ‘Look, Marshall’s in the team anyway.’

The teams seemed a long way away. When they had been to watch Wanderers as Marshall’s guests they had sat right on the halfway line, but now they were in the corner of the ground. ‘Let’s just hope all the goals get scored at this end,’ Tulsi said, as Milan kicked off.

‘Not in this half,’ said Rafi. ‘Milan are kicking this way.’

‘Inter Milan only need to draw this game to win the group,’ Rob said. ‘They could just defend, but that would be a dangerous strategy.’

‘Well, they’re not defending,’ said TJ. ‘Here they come!’

The Milan winger was chasing the ball towards the corner flag, with the Wanderers full back right behind him. He was so close to where they were sitting that TJ could hear the sound of his boots on the turf. The winger controlled the ball with a delicate touch, then swivelled round and played a neat pass to another Milan forward. The Wanderers players were all back in defence now, but Milan played the ball patiently, moving it from one side of the pitch to the other, never letting the Wanderers players get a touch.

‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ said Jamie’s dad after a few minutes.

‘They haven’t scored,’ said Jamie. ‘They haven’t even had a shot on goal. Hey, look! Sanchez has got it.’

Sure enough, Paco Sanchez, the Wanderers midfield genius, had robbed an over-confident Milan player. He immediately
slid
a pass to Marshall Jones on the right wing. There was a roar from the crowd as Marshall moved forward and took the ball past first one Milan player, then a second. He was moving at top speed now, heading for the Milan goal line, so far away that TJ could hardly tell what was happening. Then there was a groan from the crowd, and a Milan defender came away with the ball. ‘It’s happening again,’ Rob said. ‘I knew it would. Marshall won’t beat that full back.’

‘He might,’ said Jamie. ‘Give him a chance.’

But Rob was right. Every time Marshall tried to go past the full back the defender reached the ball first. And then the worst happened. Marshall lost the ball for what seemed like the hundredth time and the full back who had tackled him ran forward towards the Wanderers half, then played a pass down the line to the Milan winger.

The winger was being tightly marked by a Wanderers defender, but the Milan full back had kept running. He overtook the Milan winger and the Wanderers defender who was marking him. The winger turned and played the ball into his path.

The ball was heading directly for the corner where TJ and his friends were sitting.

The Wanderers central defender saw the danger and moved towards the ball, but he was too slow, and the Milan full back was flying. He touched the ball forward and just as it was about to run out of play he chipped it back across the goalmouth right into the path of the Milan centre forward, who headed it powerfully into the net.

At the far end of the ground the Milan supporters went crazy. The rest of the stadium was almost silent.

‘This is going to spoil my birthday,’ said Jamie, as the whistle blew for half time a few
minutes
later. The fans all around them were grumbling to each other. Wanderers now needed to score two goals or they would be out of the competition, and so far they hadn’t managed a single shot on target.

‘Look,’ exclaimed TJ suddenly. ‘I recognize that hat!’

He pointed. A blue baseball hat was bobbing along the front row of the stand.

‘Hey!’ called Jamie, in the enormous voice he used for yelling encouragement to the Parkview team when he was standing in his goal. ‘Mr Wood! Over here!’

The teacher stopped and scanned the crowd for a moment. Then he saw them all waving, and a big smile lit up his face. ‘It’s great to see you all,’ he said when he had jogged up the steps. ‘And you too, Mr Carter,’ he said to Jamie’s dad. ‘It’s a pity about the score.’

‘I think I know what Wanderers should
do
,’ Rob said earnestly. ‘They should move Marshall over to the left wing and bring Dexter Gordon on to play down the right. I don’t know why the manager hasn’t done it already.’

Mr Wood looked at Rob. ‘He probably hasn’t considered it because young Gordon has never even started a Premier League match, let alone a crucial game in the Champions League. He’s only ever been a substitute.’

‘He’s on the bench now though,’ Rob pointed out. ‘I bet it would work. That full back knows he can stop Marshall. Wanderers have to give him something different to think about.’

‘I wonder,’ said Mr Wood, glancing at the pitch where the goalkeeping coach was giving some practice to the Wanderers reserve keeper and the subs were warming up. ‘Look, I’m going to go. I’ll maybe see you later.’

Mr Wood pushed his way through the crowd and they lost sight of him. ‘Look,’ said Jamie, pointing. The goalkeeping coach had left the keeper standing in the goal and he was deep in conversation with someone in the stand.

It was a man in a blue baseball cap.

C
HAPTER
6

THE MATCH RESTARTED
after the break. Away on the far side of the pitch Marshall resumed his battle with the Milan defender, but he did no better than before. Ten minutes went by, and still Wanderers couldn’t find a way through the packed Milan defence. ‘Something’s happening on the bench,’ Tulsi said suddenly.

Three Wanderers players stood up and removed their padded coats. They began to run along the touchline. ‘It’s him,’ said Rob, looking at the tall, skinny figure of Dexter Gordon stretching.

The manager and the head coach were talking together, then TJ saw them beckoning to the players. ‘They’re sitting down again,’ said Rob, disappointed.

‘No,’ said Jamie. ‘Dexter Gordon’s getting ready.’

The young winger stood between the manager and the coach, nodding as they pointed to the notebook in the coach’s hands. Then he stepped forward as the ball ran out of play and the fourth official held up the board with a number on it. The Wanderers’ left winger glanced across, saw his number, and shook his head. ‘None of them look very happy,’ Jamie said.

Rob said nothing. He was watching with a mixture of anxiety and excitement as Dexter Gordon ran onto the pitch and made directly for Marshall. Marshall seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he trotted slowly over to the opposite side of the pitch. ‘Yes!’ said Rob.

‘Marshall doesn’t look pleased,’ said TJ. ‘I hope you’re right about this, Rob.’

‘It’s probably nothing to do with me,’ Rob replied. ‘I expect the manager thought of it himself.’

From the throw-in, Milan attacked, catching Wanderers by surprise. Jamie and his friends watched the backs of the Milan players streaming away from them towards the far end. The ball flashed from player to player and the move ended with a shot from the Milan number eight that curved and dipped viciously towards the Wanderers goal. There was a moment of horrified silence before they saw the goalkeeper rise and palm the ball over the bar.

‘That’s what I want to do,’ said Jamie, as applause rippled around the ground.

When the corner came the keeper rose majestically to catch the ball, and then he threw it instantly, overarm, out to Dexter
Gordon
on the wing.

‘This is it,’ breathed Rob, and then sighed with disappointment as Gordon played the ball short to Paco Sanchez, who took one touch and then played a seemingly impossible pass between two Milan defenders to Marshall Jones on the left wing.

Marshall clipped the ball to the striker, Dwight Fanshawe, who was closely marked but managed to slide a return pass that flew straight towards the corner where the friends were sitting.

Marshall sprinted after the ball and he reached it a metre ahead of the chasing defender. ‘Cross it!’ screamed TJ, and he realized that he was on his feet, like everyone around him, as three Wanderers midfielders raced into the penalty area to join the striker. There was a groan from the crowd as Marshall put his foot on the ball and then turned back, beating the
defender
a second time.

‘What’s he doing?’ asked TJ.

‘Doesn’t want to cross with his left foot,’ said Rob. ‘But this full back’s not as good as the other one. Marshall’s fooled him.’

Marshall Jones had seen something that all of the Milan defenders had missed. He hit his cross long. It floated over the penalty area, above the heads of defenders and attackers alike. The crowd groaned again, but then, just as the ball seemed certain to go out for a goal kick, Paco Sanchez appeared out of nowhere, beyond the far post, beyond everyone, and headed the ball back across the goal, and into the net.

‘We can do it,’ said Jamie, dancing around with everyone else in the stand. ‘We can beat them. Come on, Wanderers!’

But as the minutes ticked by it became obvious that the Milan defence was going to be very hard to break down. Milan pulled
every
player back inside their own half, and every Wanderers attack was snuffed out. If Marshall beat a player, there was always another blocking his path. If Paco Sanchez squeezed a pass between two players there was always a third waiting. And Dexter Gordon was a disappointment. The first time he received a pass he couldn’t control the ball and a Milan defender took it away from him. The next time, it happened again.

Moments later Paco Sanchez was on the ball and looking to pass to Gordon, but Gordon checked his run and the ball ran out of play.

‘He’s rubbish,’ said Rafi. ‘He was scared of getting the ball that time.’

‘He’s just nervous,’ said Jamie, ‘and I bet you would be too.’

‘Look,’ said Rob. ‘The full back who was marking Gordon thinks he doesn’t need to worry about him any more. He thinks he can
attack
whenever he likes now.’

The Milan full back was steaming forward down the wing, just as he’d done in the first half. A Wanderers defender tackled him, and when he lost the ball the Milan player turned in a leisurely way and began to jog slowly back towards his own half. ‘You see?’ said Rob. ‘The Milan full back has decided Gordon isn’t a threat. He’s playing like an attacker now and he’s leaving the other defenders to cover for him. It’s lazy, if you ask me.’

Dexter Gordon was standing on the halfway line and there wasn’t a Milan player within ten metres of him. He waved his arms in the air and they could see that he was calling to Paco Sanchez, who had the ball at his feet once more. Sanchez seemed to hesitate for a second, as if he wasn’t sure it was worth passing to Gordon. A Milan defender sensed the hesitation and tried to
tackle
him, but Sanchez turned away from him, and now he had no option, and he slid the ball to Dexter on the wing.

The young man began to move forward, faster and faster. The Milan defender was still making his way back. He didn’t seem bothered until he saw Gordon glide past first one, then two Milan players as if they weren’t even there. He was moving like a streak of lightning towards the penalty area and now, at last, the Milan players realized their danger. Gordon’s speed had taken them completely by surprise. Three Milan defenders closed on him, but they were too late. Dexter Gordon’s shot screamed past them, past the goalkeeper, and into the net.

The whole crowd rose to its feet and the roar was louder than anything TJ had heard before. Five minutes later the game was over and Wanderers were through to the knockout stage of the Champions League.