The Kick Off Read Free Page B

their kick-around, they went back to Jack’s to chill and watch a film. Jamie didn’t stay too late though, as Jack’s flight was at 7 a.m. the next morning and she hadn’t even finished packing properly.
    When he left, Jamie felt a bit sad. The whole time he’d known her, they had never been apart for six weeks. That was a long time but at least they’d agreed that they would definitely meet up the night Jack got back, which was the day before school started.
    He was going to miss her. Normally, they spent the whole of the summer holidays together. This time it was going to be different.

 
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    If there was one good thing about Jack being away, though, maybe it was that now Jamie had even more time to spend with his new best friend – the ball.
    For the next week, Jamie spent every single day down at Sunningdale . . . alone, just him and the ball.
    He did everything he could to get to know it. He juggled it, he dribbled it, he swerved it and he curled it.
    He thought about what all the best players had in common. It was the fact that they were so comfortable with the ball that they hardly ever had to look at it. They had the ball under such close control that they could lift their heads up and see the picture of what was happening all over the pitch.
    That’s how good Jamie wanted to be when he went back to Kingfield. He wanted to get so close to the ball that no one would ever be able to separate them. Together, they could get him into the A team.
    But soon there was a problem with the relationship. Jamie’s attentions started to be drawn elsewhere.
    Every day, on the pitch right next to where Jamie was practising, the same group of boys came and played a match of their own.
    Although he tried to concentrate on his own routines, Jamie found himself spending more and more time watching their game instead of working on his control.
    None of them knew who Jamie was but he knew who all of them were. They were the Kingfield First Eleven squad and they were doing their pre-season training.
    It was weird; it was like Jamie was being hypnotized. He had to watch them.
    It wasn’t surprising though. On one pitch was a squad – including Danny Miller, the best player in the whole school – who were testing themselves to the limit in a fast-paced, competitive training session. Whereas on the next was Jamie, by himself, kicking the ball into an empty net.
    They were sixteen and were cool. Jamie was thirteen and looked like he had no mates.
    It was no contest.

 
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    Just sitting there watching Danny Miller and Co. do their thing wasn’t going to improve Jamie’s game though.
    He knew he had to concentrate on himself, not the Firsts. Somehow, he needed to make his sessions more exciting – like theirs.
    So he started to commentate on himself while he practised. It made it seem so much more real.
    Each day he picked a different footballer and imagined he was them when he played. He tried to take on their characteristics and dribble and shoot like they did.
    Sometimes he pretended he was one of the Hawks players and other times he imagined himself as one of the big international stars. Thinking he was the best helped to make Jamie play better. It was as if their skills were being pumped into his body.
    On this particular day, Jamie had decided he was going to pretend to be someone a little closer to home. He was looking forward to it.
    â€œ Here’s Danny Miller  . . . he’s picked this one up well inside his own half ,” Jamie started, putting on his commentator’s voice as he powered down the pitch, the ball at his feet.
    â€œ He’s going through the gears now  . . . he’s got real pace this boy  . . . the defenders can’t stay with him . . .”
    So taken in was he by his own imagination, that Jamie was beginning to shout louder and louder the closer he got to the goal. He felt like he