Walter stood up, at the front of the coach as we set off.

  ‘Ok lads, we all know what’s at stake here today, but I want you to forget about my position and what might happen. Concentrate on the game, leave it all out there on the pitch and bring back the three points for them.’ He pointed out of the windows to all the fans waving us off with their yellows and blues. ‘They believe, now you need to believe as well. Believe in yourselves, believe in your team-mates. We all know young Mr. Harvey is getting his debut today; help him, guide him, but don’t be scared to let him run, we know how fast he is, Western doesn’t. One other change to the team, Jamie Curry has failed a fitness test, so Santi is in, and Monty is on the bench.’

  The wonderfully named Watson Augustus Montgomery had joined us on loan from an American team earlier in the week. His father was a billionaire who built super-yachts for the super-super rich. Monty had decided not to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a footballer instead, much to his father’s disgust and disappointment. Monty didn’t care. He had a dream and followed it with drive and determination. He was quiet off the pitch, but in training we had hit it off straight away, his pinpoint crossing had given me a hat-trick in our final practice run-out before the game. I was very happy he had made it, at least to the bench.

  Arriving at the ground, it was all a sea of black and red, their fans were as hostile as their defence, banging on the side of the coach and letting off red flares as we drove past.

  ‘Look youngster, look at them,’ said Mac, ‘I love this, I absolutely love this. This atmosphere is as close as an international, or to a big European game as you can get.’

  Whilst I was a bit intimidated - in fact all the noise and the colour terrified me - Mac was getting even more excited. He seemed to grow bigger standing there, filling the coach gangway with his muscles and his beard. Whatever happened, I knew he had my back, and it was reassuring to see him grinning at the vast crowds of Villa supporters as they shouted not very nice things in our direction.

  ‘They don’t really mean it, Jack’ he said. ‘They just want to try and scare us. It never works on me. I love it. It fires me up and makes me play better. Bring it on!’

  We got changed. The dressing room was much smaller than I was used to, with only one small toilet. The windows were wedged open, so we had to shout to drown out the noise of the home fans.

  ‘Welcome to Western Villa, Jack,’ said Josh, the first team coach. ‘They try to have you beaten before you even set foot on the pitch. Don’t let them scare you, it’s 11 verses 11 and the grass is still green. Run your socks off and you won’t go far wrong.’

  My hands were trembling once again as I laced up my boots, then as I looked up, Walter reached over with an Accies shirt.

  ‘A debut shirt young lad,’ he smiled. ‘You’ll never forget today, whatever happens, whatever the score. Give your best. This is where dreams come true.’

  He gave me my shirt, big bold letters across the back, HARVEY with the number 16 underneath. Written in tiny lettering just above my name was the club motto in Latin, “Ad astra per aspera” which meant ‘Through adversity to the stars’. Basically, it meant that the way to the top is often difficult and hard work. It filled me with pride to think that this was now mine.

  ‘Thanks boss,’ I said. ‘I won’t let you down.’

  ‘I know you won’t,’ he replied with a smile as he turned to walk off to the dugouts.

  Just as we were about to run out, I felt a big hand on my shoulder, it was Lucas.

  ‘Mate, I’m so proud of you, whatever happens. We’ve been dreaming of this forever. Now go win it for us.’

  Kick off!

  Boom, a huge roar, the wall of noise hit me. Whilst we had struggled so far this season, we knew the Villa game was the biggest of our season. Historically we’d always had close battles on the pitch and, as our nearest neighbours this season, the rivalry between us and the Villains - (as we called them) – would be even more intense. Until they were relegated a few seasons ago, the games were always the highlight of the season. End to end, always with loads of goals. The fans had waited a long time to see this.

  The first ten minutes passed in a blur, I hardly had a touch, and when I did, I quickly lost it. The Villa defenders were all over me. The good news was both Henry and Mac were having a storming game at the back for us. If I thought I had it hard, the Villa forwards had it doubly hard trying to get behind our two monster central defenders.

  But as they say, good things never last; despite their defensive heroics, the luck seemed to desert us once again, as a fierce cross from the right clipped a Villa player who was not even looking, sending Jurgen the wrong way and in. 0-1. My shoulder slumped, I’d hardly had a kick and we were losing, again. I trudged off at half time expecting to get subbed.

  Walter seemed surprisingly upbeat.

  ‘Wyn, take a shower, Monty, you’re on.’

  Monty’s face lit up, although he did well to avoid the glare of Wyn Thomas who was not amused at having to come off and take a half time shower. Wyn hadn’t been that bad. He had worked hard, but we needed more help up front. We were defending too much and too deep.

  ‘We are still in this game,’ he said. ‘Monty is going to help us change the pattern of play now, instead of passing to feet, put it behind their defenders, Jack’s pace will do the rest.’

  After all the bad games we had put in recently, it was strange to see Walter so positive, but his words seemed to work as the players heads visibly came up again, and we looked ready.

  The second half was only seconds old when Monty skipped past a Villa player looked at me and clipped an amazing pass over my defender.

  I spun past him, with no one but the keeper between me and the goal, when all of a sudden I was on the floor. The defender had clipped my heels and sent me tumbling. Mac was screaming for a red card, but it was just a yellow, AND a free kick in a dangerous position. Arlo was our usual free kick taker, but he could just as easily clear the top of the stand as score from them, so I just closed my eyes and crossed my fingers.

  I needn’t have feared, the free kick was one of his best, it dipped and swerved and was heading for the bottom corner until the keepers’ desperate fingertips somehow clawed out and turned it onto the post, but Dexter was there to smash home the rebound. 1-1. Our bench erupted.

  ‘Yes lads, come on, it’s ours now, let’s win this,’ he shouted as he ran back to the centre with the ball under his arm. For the next ten minutes we attacked at every opportunity, balls over the top, left and right. Monty was hitting amazing passes across the pitch, and I could see the defender who was marking me was starting to puff quite hard.

  ‘Monty,’ I shouted, ‘give me the ball.’

  He fired in a pass a bit too high and hard, but I just about managed to get my toe on it, flicking the ball up and over the defenders’ leg, who ended up on his bum. I knew I was clear, and this time no one was catching me. I raced towards the goal and at that moment everything seemed to slow down, I could hear our fans screaming ‘go-oooooon,’ the keeper came out, I glanced left to see if I could pass the ball but no one else was in sight. I looked down and put my laces through the ball as hard as I could. It ripped past the keeper before he could react, and the net bulged! 2-1

  ‘YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH’

  My head exploded with joy as I ran around like a lunatic until Mac got hold of me.

  ‘Told you,’ he screamed over the noise, ‘I told you that you would score. What a great goal, brilliant. Five minutes left. DON’T STOP RUNNING!’

  And I didn’t. I ran and ran, chasing every ball. I chased down defenders, I closed down their keeper constantly. Every time the ball was near me, I sprinted like my life depended upon it. I didn’t get another chance, but I made sure they didn’t either, and our defenders happily mopped up anything that came in their direction.

  The final whistle blew. Yes, we had won. FINALLY, we had won. I had scored the winner? I scored the winner!!!

  ‘I don’t think I could ever feel happier than this,’ I said whilst receiving a bear hug from Walter. I could see the relief in his face. ‘I can’t believe it!’

  ‘Me too’ Walt said. ‘Enjoy tonight, we’ve a lot more games coming up for you if you keep playing like that.’

  Sitting next to Lucas on the coach for the short ride back home, I stared out of the window. The red and black army had long since disappeared, and now all we could see was blue and yellow fans singing and dancing as they made their way back home.

  ‘You’ve done that, youngster,’ said Mac. ‘You’ve given them back hope, the pride of the city. They will all have a brilliant week because of you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone run as far, as fast, or as hard as you did today, and in your first match!’

  ‘Thanks Mac,’ I said, and I closed my eyes. I daren’t admit it, but I was exhausted and fell sound asleep in seconds.

  “Success does not happen by accident. It is hard work, learning AND SACRIFICE, but most of all, loving the game you play.” (Walter)

  Training that week passed in a blur. Everyone greeted me with a smile, with pats on the back from the coaching team and big smiles from the canteen staff. My dad’s phone ran red hot from all the journalists who wanted the big story. Who I was, where I came from, what was my favourite colour?

  My dad had been asked to attend the offices of Walter Rolland. It was a bit odd, but we went with it. Dad arrived at the training ground the day before our next match against East Cove. Walter wanted a chat with both of us together. I was a bit nervous as I thought things had been going well in training especially after my goal-scoring debut.

  ‘Morning Mr Harvey, come in Jack,’ he said as we arrived at his office. Walter’s office was an amazing bright room overlooking the training ground. In the background the magnificent Accies stadium loomed large. All over the walls were pictures of sporting greats; footballers, rugby players, elite athletes, the best of all sports. Motivational quotes from famous people were hung between each set of pictures. It was an amazing office, and I could see straight away why Walter was such an inspiring man.

  ‘Gentleman, good morning,’ Walter said again, ‘I won’t keep you long. As you know the club has had difficulties with its finances since the relegation. We are going to have to slowly see out some of the older players and bring in players like Jack to keep us going. I just want to assure you that the club sees Jack as the future, and we would like to offer him this.’

  He pushed a stack of papers towards my dad, on the front page it read:

  Professional Players Contract

  Between Accies Football Club and Jack Harvey…

  My eyes bulged!

  ‘It’s a five-year contract Jack,’ Walter continued. ‘Take your time, read over it, have a think.’

  ‘Do you have a pen?’ I asked. I had already reached the back page where it said signature. Walter and my dad both burst out laughing. I had an enormous smile on my face. I was a proper player now, a professional footballer. They were actually going to pay me to play football. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  ‘Go home, tell your mum,’ Walter said, ‘I’ll see you here tomorrow bright and early for the East Cove game ok?’

  ‘Yes boss! I’ll be the first one here I promise,’ I blurted out with excitement.

  The champagne corks went off once again once we were back at home, the whole family - including Lucas and his parents - had come round. Lucas had been sat outside the office when we left, and his news was as astonishing as mine.

  True to his word, Walter had been forced to sell some of the older more experienced players. Our goalkeeper Jurgen Heinrich had gone, back to Germany. He didn’t want to play in a lower league and risk losing his place in the German national squad. After watching Lucas train and play in a few youth-team matches, Walter had allowed Jurgen to leave. Lucas was in for the East Cove game tomorrow!

  ‘That’s amazing news mate, I’m so pleased for you,’ I said to a beaming Lucas, as we sat and watched the others drinking the champagne. We had both refused a glass as we had a game the next day, and I thought champagne was disgusting anyway!

  ‘Thanks Jack,’ he said. ‘Walter told me it didn’t matter if I made a mistake, he said you’d just score more goals!’

  We both chuckled. Lucas didn’t really make mistakes, he was such a calm person; even if he did let in a goal, it never seemed to worry him.

  ‘All the best goalkeepers in history let goals in mate,’ he once told me. And he was right, his favourite phrase he kept repeating was: ‘there’s no point in dwelling on what you’ve just done, focus on what you can do now, what you can change to make it better next time. You can never stand still. The moment you stop and admire yourself and where you are, someone else will go past you.’

  It was sound advice, and that thought was in my head after five minutes of the Cove match. I’d already had one amazing opportunity but had scuffed the floor and the ball had bobbled harmlessly into the arms of the smiling keeper.

  ‘Not a chance little boy,’ the keeper laughed as he ran past to thump the ball clear.

  My cheeks flushed with anger. Who did he think he was? I’ve just signed a five-year contract with one of the best teams in history.

  Whatever he had said though, worked against me. The very next pass that came to me, I mis-controlled, and whilst lunging to get it back, I caught an East Cove player on the shin, who screamed as he fell to the floor. Suddenly, I was surrounded by Cove players, pushing and shouting. The referees whistle was blasting; long and loud. It wasn’t until Mac came in and removed me that I could breathe. I thought that was it.

  ‘You need to calm down son’, the referee said. ‘That was rash and dangerous. I have every right to send you off, but I’m going to give you a second chance. Yellow card!’

  ‘Thank you, sir, sorry sir,’ I said looking at the ground.

  If I was intimidated by the referee and the Cove players, it was nothing to the look I got from Mac.

  ‘Get your head right lad,’ he shouted. ‘You are better than that. Don’t let them put you off, be stronger in your mind. They know you can beat them with your skill, so they are trying to slow you down in other ways.’

  He stomped off back to his position for the free kick, which luckily was excellently claimed by Lucas. The crowd cheered their approval. They could already see the potential in this new look team. Two fresh new faces on the pitch, and the bench was also full of youngsters, now that a big chunk of the older senior faces from last season had been moved on.

  One of those faces was a new kid we had signed from Old Wimbledonians, Zac Smith. Zac had signed, initially only on loan, but if we did go back up to the Premier League the deal was that he would sign permanently.

  Zac was my type of player. There was no doubt he had talent. He could pass, shoot, tackle, the lot. But what made him stand out, even at 18 years old, was his work rate. He didn’t stop, ever!

  ‘Why run when you can sprint, get there faster, get the job done quicker, Jacky,’ he said to me at his first training session. I liked him straight away and was hoping that Walter would put him in the team soon. Walter was loyal to his older players, but like Monty, once they got a chance, he just couldn’t leave them out. I was hoping this would happen to Zac, and soon.

  The game against Cove had reached half-time with no goals. Lucas had done well, made saves when he needed to, but again we struggled to break down the opposition defence. Walter made a few changes; Zac was now on for Jamie Curry. He still wasn’t moving right after his injury, but he hadn’t played well today either. The other change was a 19-year-old fellow Academy player, Irishman Finbar Talbot who came on for Gianfranco Spaletti. Spaletti was having one of his lazy days, and caught one of Walters fearsome glares as he threw his shirt to the floor in disgust. Fin, like Monty, was quick, agile and could see a pass quicker than anyone I knew. He was very quiet on and off the pitch, but as long as his boots did the talking, Walter was happy, and so was I.

  And he did just that. Straight after the restart Zac thumped into Cove captain, sending him sprawling, before finding Fin with a typically inch perfect pass. Fin played a quick one-two, and curled a lovely pass round the back of the last defender and without even breaking stride, I passed the ball into the bottom corner 1-0.

  ‘YEEEEEEEEAAAAHHHH, GET IN!’

  The crowd was bouncing, ‘Oh Jackee Jackee,’ they sang. I couldn’t believe it. Two goals in two games!

  Two became three soon after. This time Monty, after beating two or three Cove players, rolled the ball across the six-yard box and all I had to do, once again, was tap it into the empty net with the keeper sprawling.

  When Dexter smashed a failed clearance into the top corner to make it 3-0, we all relaxed. Walter, who had the weight of the world on his shoulders just two weeks ago, was beaming. He had moved out half of his squad and replaced them with untried and untested kids, and we were all on fire.

  Final score, three goals to nil. More importantly, we had the three points. We were finally heading up the table. We had a long way to go to catch the early-season pacesetters, but as I walked into the dressing room and looked around, all I could see was happy smiling faces.

  We were going to do this.

  “Hard work beats talent and skill, when talent and skill doesn’t work hard.” (Izzy)

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7