T.J. and the Hat-trick (7 page)

C
HAPTER
12

TJ PULLED ON
a blue bib. Danny, Jamie, Rafi, Rodrigo, Tulsi and Tommy were all in his team.

‘Don’t just stand in front of the goal this time,’ Danny said to Tulsi.

‘Shut up, Danny,’ Jamie said. ‘You can’t talk. You just kick people.’

‘At least I know which
way
I’m kicking,’ Danny replied. ‘Not like Rafi.’

‘Hey,’ said Tommy. ‘It’s only a game. You OK, Rodrigo?’

Rodrigo grinned. ‘Football good,’ he said.

TJ pulled on the goalkeeping gloves his dad had given him that morning. If they kept on arguing like this, he thought, probably none of them would get in the team.

‘Right,’ said Mr Wood. ‘I’m in charge of this game, and Miss Berry will look after that lot over there. We’ve got special rules today, just to keep you on your toes. You’re only allowed three touches – two to get the ball under control, and one to pass or shoot.’

Mr Wood demonstrated carefully so that Rodrigo would understand. Rodrigo nodded, but there was a chorus of protest from the others.

‘We’ll never be able to do that,’ Rafi said.

‘Try it and see,’ replied Mr Wood. ‘You might surprise yourself, Rafi.’

He blew his whistle and Tulsi tapped the ball to Tommy. He stopped the ball – and
instantly
he was surrounded. Every player on the pitch ran towards him, the Blues all yelling for him to pass to them.

‘I can’t,’ he yelled. ‘There’s no room.’

‘Use the space, Blues,’ Mr Wood said. ‘Look, you’ve got a whole pitch to play in.’

Finally Tommy spotted a gap and cleared the ball. They all ran after it except Tulsi. She jogged over and took up her usual position on the edge of the opposition penalty area. Suddenly TJ saw Rafi emerge from the little gaggle of players with the ball at his feet. He took one touch, then another, then another . . .

Mr Wood’s whistle blew.

Rafi put his head in his hands. ‘I told you,’ he said. ‘I knew it was impossible.’

Mr Wood sighed. ‘Listen,’ he told them, ‘if you all chase after the ball then none of you have anyone to pass to, do you?’

‘What, so you mean we just have to stand in one place, like Tulsi?’ Danny said nastily.

‘That’s not it at all, Danny, although at least Tulsi is thinking. At least she’s realized you can’t all run around together. No, you all have to look for space. You have to give the person with the ball someone to pass to. But you can’t just stand still because then the other team can mark you easily, can’t they? Let’s try again. Reds, it’s your free kick.’

Cameron kicked the ball aimlessly forward and Rodrigo intercepted it easily and controlled it with his chest.

‘Good!’ called Mr Wood. ‘Now move for him, Blues. Give him some options.’

The Blues ran. They ran like mad chickens, first one way, then another.

Rafi raced from one side of the pitch to the other . . .

Tommy sprinted down the wing . . .

Danny darted to the left and collided with Jamie . . .

Jamie just stopped, but Danny bounced off him, stumbled, and collapsed to the ground . . .

Rafi tripped over Danny, rolled three times and lay flat on his back.

Rodrigo was still standing there, with the ball at his feet. He looked confused, and TJ didn’t blame him. A lot of the watching mums and dads were bent double, laughing.

The Blue team were a total mess.

‘Play on,’ said Mr Wood. ‘There was no foul.’

Ariyan nicked the ball from Rodrigo’s feet. He took one touch and then passed it to Jay. The Red team weren’t very good, but they didn’t need to be good because Danny was still sitting on the ground,
and
Jamie was gasping for breath. Jay passed to Cameron.

‘Go on, shoot!’ he yelled.

The Red goalkeeper was laughing and talking to the kids who were watching behind the goal. Cameron hit his shot and TJ watched the ball coming towards him. An idea blossomed in his head. The ball was at a perfect height and he didn’t even try to catch it with his hands. Instead, he drew back his foot and struck a perfect volley.

At the last moment, just as he made contact, he remembered Rob’s words of advice and kept his knee right over the ball. It flew straight and true, whistling past Jamie’s ear, flashing past Tulsi’s astonished eyes. It didn’t seem to have lost any speed at all as it blasted right through the centre of the Red goal.

If there had been a net, it would have
bulged
. Maybe it would even have burst! But there wasn’t a net, and so the ball carried on, past the stunned spectators, past the big red nose of Mr Coggins, and straight into the stomach of Mr Burrows, who had just emerged from the school. He staggered backwards into the doorway. Mrs Logan rushed to his side and helped him back onto his feet. He brushed her aside and marched down the steps, very red in the face, clutching the ball in both hands.

‘This is ridiculous!’ he said. ‘It is obviously far too dangerous. Imagine if I had been an elderly lady or a little child! That’s it, I’m afraid, everybody. We’ll have no more football. You can call off this match. I really can’t see what’s wrong with rounders. Far more sensible, if you ask me.’

C
HAPTER
13

‘IT WASN’T YOUR
fault, TJ,’ Mr Wood said as they walked back to the classroom.

‘Yes, it was,’ TJ replied. ‘It was me that kicked it, wasn’t it?’

He glanced at the others. They were all too miserable to speak. They got changed in silence.

‘It’s not over,’ Mr Wood said. ‘There’s plenty of time for Mr Burrows to change his mind.’

‘Even if he does, we’re still useless, aren’t we?’ Tulsi said. Nobody argued.

‘And now we can’t even play football at break times,’ said Jamie.

‘I promise you,’ Mr Wood told them, ‘I’ll get him to change his mind. And you shouldn’t give up before you’ve even begun.’

TJ’s mum and dad were waiting for him outside the gate. ‘Who’s your friend?’ his dad asked, looking at Rob.

‘This is Rob. I told you about him. He does the stats.’

‘Oh, right,’ said TJ’s mum. ‘I don’t suppose there was much you could write down about that match, though.’

‘Well, actually there was,’ Rob said. ‘TJ’s volley travelled nearly twenty-five metres without touching the ground. It’s a very difficult skill, volleying the ball, you know.’

TJ’s dad laughed. ‘Even more difficult to hit a head teacher at that distance, I should think. Has it ever happened before, Rob?’

‘I don’t know,’ Rob replied seriously. ‘I’ll have to look it up when I get home.’

‘It’s not funny, Dad,’ TJ said. ‘You heard him. Mr Burrows banned football.’

‘You hit that ball hard, TJ. I was impressed. It was just bad luck that it hit the head teacher. And there are other places you can play football. Maybe if we tried again we’d be able to get you into Hillside.’

‘Dad! I’ve got all my friends here.’ The words tumbled out of TJ’s mouth. ‘I know we’re not much good, but Mr Wood says he can coach us and I believe him. And anyway, he says Mr Burrows will change his mind.’

‘I was joking, TJ,’ Mr Wilson said, smiling. ‘If Mr Burrows doesn’t change his mind, he’ll have a lot of mums and dads banging on his door wanting to know why!’

When school finished the following day, TJ persuaded the others to go to the park. Mr Wood had been strangely cheerful all day.

‘He’s got a plan,’ TJ said. ‘So we’d better
be
ready, hadn’t we? We know what we have to do to get better.’

‘Oh, what,’ said Tulsi, ‘so you’re in charge now, are you? You got us in this mess in the first place. Why couldn’t you just catch the ball like a normal goalie?’

‘TJ’s right,’ said Rafi. ‘We never had enough time to practise. Come on, Tulsi, give it a try.’

They tried to play the way Mr Wood had told them, controlling the ball and passing and moving around. TJ was just starting to enjoy himself when he heard a shout and saw the Hillside kids racing into the park on their bikes.

‘When Mrs Singh told us about the match we knew it couldn’t be true,’ jeered Krissy. ‘We knew you’d never play us. We heard you haven’t even got a pitch.’

‘Not yet,’ said Rafi defiantly. ‘But we will have.’

‘So why did you call the match off, then? You’re just scared, that’s all.’

They didn’t wait for a reply but rode off laughing. TJ heard one of them say ‘useless’ and there was another burst of laughter. Somehow, none of them felt like playing football after that.

They were in the playground on Monday morning when the car arrived. ‘What
is
it?’ said Rafi, as they gazed in awe at the low-slung red vehicle that had just pulled into the teachers’ car park. ‘Is it a racing car?’

‘It’s a Ferrari F430 Spider,’ said Rob. ‘Top speed, 196 miles per hour.’

‘It doesn’t look like a teacher’s car,’ said Tulsi, and then she gasped as they saw a tall black man climb out of the driver’s seat.

‘What?’ said TJ.

‘Don’t you know who that is?’ gasped
Tulsi
. ‘It’s Marshall Jones. He plays for Wanderers. What’s he doing here?’

Marshall Jones looked lost. Then he saw them watching him, and he walked through the gate towards them. TJ thought that maybe Tulsi was going to faint. It looked like her legs had gone wobbly.

‘Hey!’ Marshall said, flashing them a gleaming smile. ‘I’m looking for Johnny Wood. Is this the right place?’

‘You mean
Mr
Wood?’ asked TJ.

‘I guess. He’s a tall guy. Wears a blue baseball hat.’

‘That’s him. But what . . .?’

‘Can you find him for me?’

TJ nodded and ran off to fetch Mr Wood. He didn’t have to run far, because Mr Wood was already walking towards them across the playground, smiling broadly.

‘Hey, Marshall,’ Mr Wood said, hugging him. ‘I see you’ve already met the kids I was telling
you
about. Now you’d better come and meet my boss. He’s called Burrows.’ He led Marshall off towards the office, but as he went he turned and winked at them over his shoulder.

‘I’m in shock,’ said Tulsi. ‘Am I dreaming? Tell me that really happened.’

‘It happened, all right,’ said Jamie. ‘But I don’t know what it means.’

Then Rodrigo surprised them all. ‘Marshall Jones,’ he said. ‘Wanderers. Striker. Very good. I like.’

‘Hey, Rodrigo!’ Rafi said. ‘You’re speaking English!’

‘He’s speaking football, you mean,’ laughed TJ. ‘But that should be good enough for us.’

At the end of break they were all called into assembly. ‘We have a very special visitor today,’ Mr Burrows announced. TJ noticed that the head teacher had combed his hair
and
Mrs Logan had put on a lot of extra make-up. ‘Let me introduce Mr Jones.’

Most of the kids in the hall muttered: ‘Who?’ But when they saw Marshall they gradually realized who he was and everyone began to clap – even the little ones in Reception who just liked making a noise.

‘I see that you all, er . . . know . . . er . . . Mr Jones,’ Mr Burrows said. He was looking very uncomfortable. ‘He has very kindly offered to come back to our school next week and talk to your classes about the life of a . . . er . . . footballer. Is that right, Mr Jones?’