Into The Team (2 page)

He didn’t have to wait long for the hints. Dixon drove south, and from his hometown in the north of Lancashire, one hour’s drive south could only mean one place. The city of Manford.

England’s capital of the north had two major premier league clubs. Manford City and Manford Reds, both top of the class teams that competed fiercely each season for the title against the other big names. But Todd dared not think either of those clubs would want him. They were on a level beyond what any young player could expect.

Those teams were the country’s finest; world famous and dripping with money. Their players were of a class that only serious money could buy, and Manford City splashed out every season on new players, often snatching the goal scorers of clubs from across Europe. Manford Reds, on the other hand, had a consistent team year in year out, paying their players sums beyond what other clubs would pay. As far as Todd could remember, the Reds had only bought in new players twice in the last five years. Theirs was a team that believed in stability, and their manager, the great Aiden Marshall, only in his early thirties when he took the helm eight years ago, kept a tightly run club. They had the most spectacular, and largest, of all premier league stadiums. It was known as The Quayside - a structure that held over eighty thousand. It towered over the old docks on the west side of the city, and with its complete glass facings, it gleamed like a diamond in the sun amongst old industrial wastelands. Lit up at night, it could be seen from across the region.

But Todd doubted either of those clubs would be in the market for an unknown young player from the forgotten town of Blackmoor. If Dixon was taking him to Manford, it was most likely he was heading for one of the lower league clubs of that city. There were four of them, and all had drifted in the lower leagues for as long as anyone cared to remember.

But at least it would be a start.

Along the way Dixon asked if he had a girlfriend. Todd told him about Cherie and that she was the only one who had encouraged him in recent years. Dixon nodded as he spoke.

“What is it that you love about football?”

Todd could have answered this question for hours but kept it short.

“I love that feeling of freedom when running with the ball. I love the team spirit. I love the adrenaline. I love the feeling of being so lost in the game that I swear even Kate Middleton could streak across the pitch and I’d still only have eyes for the ball.”

Dixon chuckled. “How often do you train?”

“Every day.”

Dixon smiled. “What about drinking?”

“Oh, I don’t drink often. Maybe the odd beer in the pub at a weekend, but I’m not one for getting sloshed.”

Dixon briefly eyeballed him.

“You don’t have to tell me fibs boy, I’m not assessing your health here.”

Todd laughed, a little nervously. “It’s the truth, I like to be up early each day and I always get a good few hours exercise before lunch.”

“Very good,” Dixon said with a clear nod. “What are you? Five-ten? Five-eleven?”

“Five feet eleven inches,” Todd said proudly.

An hour later, they zipped through the Manford city streets, passing buildings taller than Todd had seen. The streets were deserted and the shops were closed, but for Todd there was a buzz in the air.

When Dixon took a turn at a sign that indicated they were heading south out of the city, Todd became puzzled.

All six of the city’s football clubs had been bypassed, and now it seemed they were heading elsewhere. He forced himself to relax again, figuring there must be a trial day south of the city, one he’d not heard about.

The idea reminded him of the day when his father took him to his one and only football competition. The Kids and Youths Regional Football Tournament had been organized by parents and schools across the North West, and was to take place over the course of three months, starting off with a trial day where those considered to have talent would be invited back the following month to play again. It was held in the Lancashire fields around Preston, six games going on, with players grouped according to ages ranging from seven to seventeen. Todd was only ten years old at the time, but he got to play with the eleven to thirteen year olds due to his father’s insistence that Todd’s game was good enough for him to be on the field with those older kids.

It was competitive, and it turned into a day of stubborn play for Todd, because those older kids seemed to enjoy making life hard for him, pushing their bigger frames in his way, doing their upmost to get control of the ball, knowing too well that the organizers were watching out for the best players. Even those on the same teams battled with each other, tackling the ball away so they could go for glory.

It was also a dirty day. They played in constant drizzle, and on more than one occasion, Todd ended up face down in the grass, mud caked to his shirt, chin, and hair. But he didn’t care. The dirtier he got, the more he felt part of the game, and it seemed to piss off those older boys when he was back on his feet like nothing had happened.

Only one other kid on that field played fair. While the other players tried to outshine each other, tackling hard and knocking each other aside, Todd and this other kid worked as a team whenever they got the chance. He passed to Todd eagerly, and Todd took his passes with care. Together they made a few agile runs towards goal. It was as though they knew that the key to winning was co-operation, not competition, and this knowledge paid off towards the end of their time on that field. In his head, Todd could still see that moment when the ball landed at the feet of this other kid, who immediately looked around until he spotted Todd. And that was when Todd knew they were gonna go for it.

Off they went, passing back and forth, zipping up the field, around tackling feet and flailing arms. Todd remembered that ten or fifteen seconds of feeling like he’d turned to fluid, somehow getting around whatever came at him as though nothing was in his way, all the time having a secret knowledge this moment was special and he was heading straight to a final kick and score.

And when the other kid sent him a final pass, Todd slammed it hard into the net. The spectators went wild. His father ran onto the pitch and grabbed him so tight, Todd barely caught his breath in those gripping arms.

Lost in his excitement at the end of that match, Todd didn’t get to see the rest of the players before the day was over. Parents and kids and youths waited around in disorganized knots, fingers crossed as announcers called out the names and numbers of those selected to return the following month.

The last thing Todd remembered about that day was having his name called out, his father’s gripping hugs, and cheeks that ended up hurting because he couldn’t stop smiling.

To this very day, Todd thought about that other kid. Even though he didn’t get to know his name, and the only thing he could remember about him was his finely shaven, snowy-blonde hair, Todd still wondered where he’d be now, if he got picked too and carried on with those tournaments, where he came from, and why they seemed to shine together on that field.

For despite being one of the chosen to return the following month, Todd never went back to that tournament. One week later, his father was dead.

Todd sighed, the last proper day he’d spent with his father had been a special one, one that would never leave him….

Seeing acres of grass around them, it was clear Dixon had left the city behind and was heading into Cheshire. There were three teams Todd knew of in this county, none of them higher than the third division. His spirits dwindled, but only a little. Right now he imagined arriving at a field full of players, all competing and showing off their skills to the local club bosses, just like that tournament day all those years ago. Yeah, today would be special, and that thought revved his heart.

Twenty minutes later, Dixon turned off a main road onto a quiet lane, lined with thick hedges. The lane ended at the entrance to a large car park.

“We’re here,” Dixon said as he found a spot and killed the engine.

Todd looked around, but saw nothing other than a low-lying building surrounded by open fields. In one field, a game was in play, and for a moment his heart sailed as he saw those running legs and heard the distant shouts. But within seconds his heart sank again. It was a game of rugby, not football.

Still puzzled, he left the car with Dixon. Cold air gripped his face. Only one other field was occupied, but there was no game going on, no spectators, no whistles blowing, and no ball in the air. Only three guys jogged back and forth in the center of the field.

“This is the Cheshire County Health Club,” Dixon remarked as they walked towards the entrance of the low, grey building. “Go in and tell reception that you’re here for the trial, they’ll know what you mean and they’ll tell you where to go.”  He pointed to the field where the three guys jogged. “I’ll be waiting there for you.”

Todd frowned but nodded. Perhaps it was a small trial, involving only a select few. Although not what he expected, he felt a warm glow as he made his way to the entrance of the health club.

After telling the receptionist he was here for the trial, she nodded politely and asked him to follow her through a door on the left that said ‘staff only’.

With a raised head, he followed her through the doors. No public allowed down here, only those with some official duty to attend. She led him down the corridor to a door with a sign: ‘reserved changing’ pinned to it.

“You can change here. There’s an exit to the field just by the showers.” She smiled briefly, walked back down the corridor, and disappeared through the door.

Todd took a deep breath, wondering if he was about to meet an entire team of players on the other side of the door. He could be just one of many attending today’s trial, so he prepared himself for a room full of blank faces and nervous eyes.

Inside, he found nothing but a small space with empty benches and unused clothes hangers. A sweet smell of pine, and a chilled feel to the air told him the room hadn’t been used much today.

There was a single toilet, and a small four-man shower room with white tiled walls that seemed to sparkle. Even the silence felt clean.

He unbuttoned his coat, and as he did he noticed only three sports bags lying under the benches. He supposed Dixon had picked him up too early. The other candidates must be on their way.

He figured it could give him an advantage being one of the first players out on the field.

Once in his shorts and shirt, football boots laced up, he headed past the shower block. Studs echoed off the floor.

Finding the exit, he pushed the door open.  Dixon and the three guys stood close together in the middle of the field.

Off he sprinted, warming up his legs with a slow jog. As he approached, he recognized the tall frame and long brown hair of one man. The closer he got, the slower he ran. That shoulder length brown hair was too familiar; so familiar it made his heart leap ahead of him.

As if sensing his approach, the man turned briefly, and Todd noticed the hard square jaw and distinctive, clean-cut stubble resting on the chin. He’d seen those features before, on national television.

But it couldn’t be him, not really. He must be seeing things.

Within ten feet, that tall man with his stubble chin and sharp brown eyes brought total recognition…

Shit! Today is the fucking day.

Wayne Maxwell.

Todd almost dared not stop in front of him, and he felt a strange compulsion to walk in a semi-circle around the man, as if he wasn’t worthy of coming within touching distance. And even though he couldn’t take his eyes off him, Todd wondered if he should have asked permission to even look at the towering figure.

Wayne Maxwell - captain and midfielder, sometimes striker, for Manford Reds. Todd couldn’t conceal the excitement brewing with what this could mean.

Dixon clasped Todd’s shoulder and gestured to the player. “Todd, meet Wayne.”

At six feet two inches, Wayne’s alert eyes looked down at Todd. “I see what you mean about being fit for the club.” Wayne spoke with a strong local accent while smiling. “Pleased to meet you.” He shook Todd’s hand firmly and turned to the other two players. “This is John and Vince; they’ll be trialing with you today.”

Todd’s throat ran dry, but he was able to nod, and after shaking hands with the other players, whom he didn’t recognize, he turned to Dixon and shook his head.

“I had no idea….”

Dixon’s smile broadened as he gave a wink.

“Just knock ‘em dead son,” he said, patting Todd’s shoulder. “I’ve done my bit by finding you and bringing you here. It’s in your hands now.” He turned and walked across the field.

Todd watched him go, wondering why this man had come out of nowhere and dropped him into a field with one of the biggest players in the country. Now there he was, walking away as if it were nothing. He wanted to go after him, ask him what was going on and why he’d just shaken hands with a Manford Reds star player. But a hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from going anywhere.

The air shot from Todd’s lungs as he turned to see a stern look on Wayne’s face.

Fuck me! Today really is the fucking bastard day!

“You ready to show your moves?” Wayne’s accent was tough.