Free Kick Tom Palmer (most inspirational books of all time txt) 📖

should come over to talk to him.

James pushed his chair away and walked to his dad. They sat alone at a table.

‘I talked to Steve last night,’ Dad said.

James nodded. What had they talked about? Had he pulled in a favour? Don’t drop James because he’s my boy, the son of an England international? Something like that?

‘Go on,’ James said, still unsure how his dad felt about him today.

‘I told him you wanted to pack it in,’ Dad said.

James swallowed. Now it was real. Now he couldn’t go back. He said nothing.

Neither did his dad.

‘Right,’ James said eventually.

‘I won’t say I’m not disappointed, James…’

James looked down at his hands. This was the last thing he wanted to hear.

‘But,’ Dad went on, ‘I talked to your mum on the phone late last night and if that’s how you feel, then that’s how you feel. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.’

This was his answer. It was agreed. Mum and Dad had talked about it. James felt half scared of what he’d done. And half freed by it.

‘Thanks, Dad,’ he muttered.

‘So, James, what do you want to do so much?’

‘Well, er…’ James hesitated. He was dying to tell his dad, but somehow it still wouldn’t come out. Again, there was something in his dad’s voice. That disappointment. He wasn’t sure how his dad would react. He might laugh at him and think he was stupid.

‘Steve asked me to try and change your mind,’ Dad said, ‘but I said I wouldn’t.’

James nodded gratefully.

‘Then I asked him not to drop you for today. That today would be your last game. As a favour to me.’

James looked into his dad’s eyes. His dad looked sad. It was his dream to see his son do what he had done. But, all the same, he wasn’t forcing James to do anything. He was respecting his son’s choice.

‘Thanks,’ James said again.

‘And your mum’s coming down to see it too.’

James smiled, then saw his dad turn and nod at Steve.

An Announcement

Steve looked out across the canteen, watching the boys slurping from bowls, stuffing toast into their mouths, drinking three kinds of fruit juice all mixed into one.

‘Today,’ Steve said, ‘is going to be a long day. I wanted to run through it with you.’

The team and the other adults all stopped eating and talking. They were – as usual – quiet for Steve. And people wanted to know what was going to happen today. But also what was going on.

‘We leave in an hour for West Ham. There’s thirty minutes or so for some light training once we’re there. Then we watch the losers’ final.’

A cheer spread quickly through the canteen. Steve grinned, then put his hand out to silence the lads.

‘Then it’s us and Chelsea. The final.’

Another cheer.

‘After that,’ Steve said, ‘we come back here. And we stay here.’

There were a couple of muted laughs. Somehow Steve had created a good atmosphere, even after the news about sending two lads home.

‘And tonight,’ Steve said, ‘we’re going to be having a party.’

This time the cheer was louder. A couple of chairs fell over.

‘We’ve food and drink. And…’ Steve did a drum roll on the table. ‘… a karaoke competition.’

The next noise the lads made was half cheer, half groan.

Once it had gone quiet, Steve held his hand out again. ‘There’s one more announcement.’

He looked over at James. James nodded.

‘Today is James’s last game for United.’

Several voices spoke at once.

‘What?’

‘Why?’

‘No way.’

‘Is he signing for West Ham?’

Everyone was looking at James.

‘James,’ Steve said, ‘is going to move on and do other things. He is not signing for West Ham!’ He paused again. ‘James has been a great player for United. I’ve worked with him for a few years and I’ll miss him. As a player, but mostly as a good lad.’

A round of applause echoed round the canteen. James smiled, then put his head down.

‘Today,’ Steve went on, ‘is going to be a tough game. But I think we’re going to play well. This is James’s last game. So shall we win it for him?’

The cheer that went up this time was deafening.

Chelsea v United

A large crowd had gathered for the game. There must have been over four hundred people along one side of the pitch and behind the goals.

And the Chelsea team were big. Very tall for eleven-year-olds.

Steve gathered the United team together into a huddle.

‘So, we’ve talked about this. They’re big lads. We saw how they beat West Ham. They’re not playing long ball, but they do put a lot of crosses into the box. And they do it early, so we have to be on our guard.’

The team nodded. James felt that there was a good team spirit. He really believed that they could win this.

‘So we hold on to possession. We pass the ball about. We try to keep it down. We’re not going to win a lot in the air. OK?’

Twelve voices said ‘OK’ back at the same time.

Steve grinned. ‘Good lads. Let’s do it then.’

Steve had been right about how Chelsea would play: they fired dozens of crosses into the box in the first half. It was an aerial assault.

But Tomasz was having a brilliant game. Every time a cross came in he’d be there, either grabbing the ball and holding it to his chest or punching it out of danger. And when United managed to get the ball, they did well, pushing Chelsea back.

Jake was working really hard on the left wing. And the right back – who was supposed to be marking him – was struggling to stop his runs.

The best chance in the first half for United came after twenty-three minutes. Ryan passed the ball ahead of Jake. Jake ran on to it, then played a quick one-two with Chi. That left Jake time and space to cross the ball into