Striker Boy Kicks Out (26 page)

With such an unpleasant incident marring the game, all of the Talorca players, and especially Alberto Tieras, would be wanting to end the match on a high by holding their lead or increasing it.

Talorca had clearly been instructed to up their tempo in search of a second and match-finishing goal. This they did with gusto, and Lombardo, in particular, improved his game, passing Rangers players with flicks and twists and step-overs, and going close twice – once with a volley from inside the box that skimmed the bar, and the other time with a header that Dalston leaped for and caught.

The eightieth minute mark passed and, with Talorca piling players forward, it seemed their momentum would yield that second goal. But on eighty-two minutes, from a Dalston throw-out, a Rangers attack began to build. Kelvin Bartlett received the ball in the right-back position and fed it cross-field to Andy Young on the left. Young pushed it towards Adilson, who was hugging the left touchline.

With his first touch, Adilson stopped the ball; with
his second he whacked it to Nat, who was cross-pitch on the right. Nat controlled the ball with his right instep. As Raymond Hilvas dived in to grab the ball, Nat pushed it round him. Hilvas hit the turf and Nat was gone.

Up ahead of him, he could see Jensen and Clarke pounding into the penalty area, and he thought about immediately passing to one of them. But they were both being closely marked, and if Nat could beat the approaching Henry Paret, he'd have a scoring chance. Paret was speeding towards him with steely determination rippling over his face. Nat waited until Paret was almost on him, before suddenly accelerating to Paret's right and flicking the ball ahead of him. Paret stretched to reach it, but it was just beyond him.

Nat was now on the right side edge of the penalty area, and he saw that Clarke had ducked away from his marker and was shouting for the ball. He made a split-second decision and Clarke lost out. Entering the penalty area, Nat spotted Xavier Bergas slightly off his line, and, feigning a pass, he floated an outrageous lob with the outside of his right boot towards the Talorca goal. For a moment it looked like he'd over-hit it, and that it would just miss the crossbar. But at the crucial second, it dipped and, despite Bergas's terrific leap, it rose over his body and into the Talorca net.

It was an incredible goal, and in a second Nat had the entire Rangers team leaping on his back, pummelling their fists into him. He listened out for the referee's whistle – would the ref disallow another perfectly legitimate
Rangers goal? But he just blew for a Talorca restart. The goal stood.

“You little beauty!” shouted the Wildman.

“I cannot believe you just did that!” laughed Emi deliriously.

Nat broke away from the players and ran over to the Hatton Rangers supporters. They were going mad with exhilaration, their voices chorusing his name over and over. He kissed the Rangers badge on his shirt and leapt into the air, punching his right fist skywards as he did so. Tieras and the Talorca team looked taken aback, as if it was an affront to football etiquette for these English minnows to score against such Spanish might.

“Fantastic!” grinned Robbie Clarke, hugging Nat. “For a second I was furious with you because I was in a decent spot and I thought you were going to pass to me, but you did the right thing! How good was it to see Xavier Bergas tipping backwards in panic as the ball sailed over his head? Great goal, mate!”

Talorca one, Hatton Rangers one.

The referee broke the spell of crazed celebration and shouted at the Rangers players to get back into their own half. Bergas kicked the ball in disgust to the halfway line and Talorca prepared for a centre. The Wildman marshalled his troops back into shape.

Tieras ran up the pitch to take the centre. He stroked it to Hilva who hit it back to him. The Talorca captain was clearly determined to take the match by the scruff of the neck and impose his will upon it – taking on the entire
Rangers team by himself if that was what was required. If the match was a draw, extra time would follow, and if the stalemate persisted, it would go to a penalty shoot-out. Tieras wanted to win it within the ninety minutes plus any stoppage time.

Tieras's first attempt to smash down the pitch was halted by a brilliant tackle by Emi, who also managed to boot the ball up-field to Clarke and then run onwards. But Clarke's pass to Jensen was intercepted by Henry Paret, who hit it back into the Rangers half, where Lombardo controlled it and then flicked it on to Tieras – now waiting menacingly just outside the penalty area.

Tieras entered the Rangers box, but the Wildman was waiting for him. Tieras dribbled the ball straight in the Wildman's direction. The Wildman stood firm and their shoulders clashed with a mighty thud. The ball rolled towards Kelvin. But Tieras wasn't finished. He elbowed the Wildman in the chest and ran after the ball. The Wildman winced and then squared up to Tieras.

“Can't stand being tackled fairly, can you?” yelled the Wildman.

“You foul
me,
” bellowed Tieras.

“Rubbish!” countered the Wildman.

The two of them stood there, nose to nose, fury and hatred scorching their faces. Tieras then gave the Wildman a much stronger and more aggressive shove in the chest. The Wildman stood his ground and didn't attack back. This only served to further incense Tieras and he aimed a punch at the Wildman's head. But the Wildman ducked
and Tieras nearly fell over. Before he could swing again, the referee was there, standing resolutely between the two captains.

“Back off!” commanded the referee.

“Willingly,” said the Wildman.

But Tieras's rage was out of control, and in a fit of sheer madness he took a swipe at the referee. The blow hit him hard on the shoulder and the referee went crashing onto the ground.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouted the Wildman, giving the very shaken referee a hand to get back to his feet.

The referee reached into his pocket and instantly produced a red card, which he held right in Tieras's face.

“Get off!” commanded the referee furiously. “NOW!”

Tieras stood quite still, looking in stunned silence at the red card.

“You heard the man!” cried the Wildman.

“OFF. NOW!” repeated the ref.

Tieras shook his head violently, and it looked as though he might attack the referee again, or anyone else in the vicinity, but then he turned and stormed off the pitch, chucking the captain's armband to Henry Paret. As he reached the touchline, his manager tried to put an arm round him, but Tieras flung it away and disappeared into the tunnel.

The referee indicated for a Rangers free kick on the spot where Tieras had shoved the Wildman. Emi took it and released Jermaine Clifton, but his run was blocked by
Talorca. There followed a short period of possession for both sides. It wasn't long before Stan Evans was holding up one finger to indicate that the match had just entered its eighty-ninth minute.

The fourth official held up his board to show that there would be five minutes of time added on. Nat looked around at his teammates and the Talorca players. It was clear that the Spanish players were less exhausted than the English crew. They were used to the local climate. Nat and the Rangers team were tiring badly. If they didn't grab something in the five minutes of added time, they'd be sure to fade in the half an hour of extra time, and that only pointed to one thing – a Talorca victory.

I have to do something!

Two minutes into the added time, Nat exchanged a couple of passes with Emi, but the ball eventually hit Adilson and went out for a throw-in to Talorca.

But Paret fluffed the throw. Adilson ran on to the ball and sprinted into the Talorca half. Nat started running towards the penalty area, with Robbie Clarke and Dennis Jensen just ahead of him. Adilson swerved past the onrushing Lombardo. He cut inside and looked up.

Nat, Jensen and Clarke were in the penalty area now, all yelling for the ball. Raymond Hilva, Henry Paret and Leo Gallant were shadowing them. But as the ball left Adilson's boot, a sudden revelation hit Nat. Although Adilson's play could be wildly unorthodox and, at times, surreal, Nat had had ample chances to study his crossing. And he knew this one would go to the far right edge of the
penalty area. So, as Clarke and Jensen prepared to jump alongside Hilva and Paret, Nat darted rightwards, leaving his marker, Leo Gallant, a few paces away from him.

The cross was a beauty and, just as Nat had predicted, it rose over the heads of the others. It cleared Leo Gallant, whose jump was a few centimetres short. This left Nat, unmarked, with the ball heading straight for him. He knew instantly how he was going to hit it. He needed to be fast and forceful. As the ball descended, Nat lent back and hit it on the volley, high, and with his right foot.

His connection was excellent and he watched as the ball flew towards the Talorca goal. Bergas was clearly sighted and he flung himself to catch it. But it was moving too fast and he couldn't quite get his fingertips to it. The ball scraped the inside of the post and flew forcefully into the back of the net.

The next few seconds were completely crazy. If his teammates had been delighted with his first goal, they were delirious over his second. He was buried beneath a great mass of leaping and screaming Hatton Rangers players. The referee was quickly at their side, yelling at them to get up and let the centre be taken. The game wasn't over yet.

Nat stood, his face covered in mud, as well as the front of his shirt, shorts and knees. He'd just scored a brace of goals in the final of a tournament, and if Rangers could hang on to their lead for just two minutes, the trophy would be theirs!

The Talorca players looked even more stunned than
before, but Lombardo managed to retrieve the ball and he raced towards the centre circle. He took the kick quickly, hit it to Gallant, who passed it straight back. Lombardo then went on an amazing twisting run, rounding three Rangers players, before entering the penalty area. He dragged his right foot back to hit it, but, before he made another contact with the ball, the Wildman slid in with one of his trademark last-gasp tackles.

As the ball skimmed towards Kelvin Bartlett, the Talorca players and fans shrieked for a penalty. Nat stared in fear at the referee for an agonising few seconds, but the referee ignored all the pleas and waved play on. Kelvin ran up the right flank, with no Talorca players anywhere near him. His destination was the right corner flag. There he could shield the ball as the seconds counted down to the full-time whistle.

But Lombardo raced across and dispossessed him. Nat groaned. Another Lombardo attack could result in the goal Talorca needed. Kelvin tracked back and managed to prise the ball away from Lombardo. He then booted it out for a Talorca throw-in.

Hilva screamed at a ball boy for the ball, but as his throw floated through the air, the referee blew his whistle.

The match was over!

Talorca FC one, Hatton Rangers two.

Nat Dixon's two goals had just won Hatton Rangers their first piece of silverware in the club's history!

The stunned Talorca players either sat down on the pitch or stumbled over to the touchline. They couldn't believe what had happened. They'd presumed before the match that the trophy was theirs, but they'd ended up with nothing.

The Rangers players hugged each other, jumped in the air and danced. Then they raced towards their supporters for a few minutes of screaming and cheering.

“One Nat Dixon, there's only one Nat Dixon!” sang the fans. Nat waved gratefully to them, his mind exploding with joy.

Whatever happens in the future, I'll always have this night to remember – so I've got to live in the minute!

“Over here, boys!” The Rangers's players delirious cavorting was interrupted by their manager. “COME ON!” hollered Fox.

They turned round and saw that a long platform had
been set up near the tunnel and that the Talorca players were already walking along it, shaking hands with club chairman Victor Mabena, and accepting their runners-up medals, their heads held low with disappointment and shame. They waited for the Rangers players to approach them and then shook all of their hands, gracious in defeat. Lombardo took off his shirt and walked over to Nat. Nat took off his and they exchanged.

“You have a big future,” smiled Lombardo. “I wish you much luck.”

“Thanks!” grinned Nat, putting on Lombardo's top.

The Talorca players then walked over to the tunnel, understandably not wanting to hang around to see Hatton Rangers receiving the trophy. Several of the other Rangers players had swapped shirts and the excitement crackled among them as the Wildman started walking towards the presentation table.

Victor Mabena, whose team had just lost the final, was also warm in defeat. Nat was fifth in line after the Wildman, Emi, Kelvin and Dennis Jensen. Mabena indicated for the players to approach him. The Wildman stepped forward and shook hands with the Talorca president, who placed a medal round his neck.