Football Academy: Striking Out Read online

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Striking Out

  Tom Palmer is a football fan and a writer. He never did well at school. But once he got into reading about football – in newspapers, magazines and books – he decided he wanted to be a football writer more than anything. As well as the Football Academy series, he is the author of the Football Detective series, also for Puffin Books.

  Tom lives in a Yorkshire town called Todmorden with his wife and daughter. The best stadium he’s visited is Real Madrid’s Santiago Bernabéu.

  Find out more about Tom on his website tompalmer.co.uk

  Books by Tom Palmer

  FOOTBALL ACADEMY: BOYS UNITED

  FOOTBALL ACADEMY: STRIKING OUT

  For older readers

  FOOTBALL DETECTIVE: FOUL PLAY

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

  Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand

  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  puffinbooks.com

  First published 2009

  Text Copyright © Tom Palmer, 2009

  Illustrations Copyright © Brian Williamson, 2009

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re‐sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  ISBN: 978-0-141-93285-9

  For David Luxton, genius literary agent and Leeds fan

  Contents

  Leading Scorer

  The Getaway

  On Form

  Home Truths

  Football v School

  Dad’s Secret

  First‐Team Player

  Boxed In

  Craig’s Secret

  Off

  What Are You Looking At?

  School Surprise

  On the Bench

  Fight!

  Friends?

  Dad’s Idea

  Craig’s Idea

  Last Time

  Football People

  Free Kick

  Proud

  Leading Scorer

  Yunis trapped the ball with his left foot and looked up. He had a second to decide: play the ball back to Jake, or try to chip the keeper and half of his defence.

  He’d been practising chipping at home in the garden. But only when his dad was out. If he got the right backspin on the ball, he could send it over the washing line, on to the roof of his dad’s shed and have it bounce back to his feet.

  Now was his chance to try it out for real.

  Before the first defender reached him, he caught the underside of the ball hard with the top of his boot. It lofted high, then plunged downwards at speed, beating everyone. The net shook as the ball nestled at the back of the goal.

  The keeper hadn’t bothered moving. There was nothing he could have done. Yunis had scored his best goal yet. His third in this game. A second hat‐trick for United.

  Jake was the first over to him, jumping on his back. Then Chi and James ran up from defence. Arms clasped his shoulder. Hands rubbed the top of his head. Even Craig came over and slapped his back, which surprised Yunis.

  Craig was the one player he’d not really got to know yet. He was quiet and didn’t really mix with the others. Except he wasn’t quiet on the pitch. On the pitch you couldn’t miss him – sometimes he overdid it with his hard tackles.

  Everyone was speaking to Yunis at once.

  ‘Brilliant!’

  ‘Awesome.’

  ‘Fantastic goal.’

  Yunis came out from under the scrum of his team‐mates. He looked at the players’ parents standing in a long row on the touchline. All of them were applauding him. Even the parents of the Wigan players.

  This was United under‐twelves’ fourth game of the season.

  The season had started badly with two defeats. There were three new players in the team and it had taken time for them to get used to each other. Yunis was one of those new players, along with Jake and Will. This was their first season playing for a Premiership club academy and it had taken a few games for things to gel.

  But in the third game United had gone to City and won four–nil. And now they were coasting it at home to Wigan.

  It was five–one. And Yunis’s goal total for the season so far was eight.

  He couldn’t believe this was happening to him.

  The first thing he did every time he got to the Academy on a Sunday was check the team sheet, pinned on the wall. And every time he read it, there was his name: Yunis Khan. Wearing the number nine shirt.

  But, even with all these good things happening, deep down Yunis wasn’t completely happy. Because when he’d looked at the row of parents, all clapping and cheering him, there was one set of parents missing.

  His.

  It was always the same: Yunis’s mum and dad never came to watch him play.

  But that wasn’t going to stop him.

  If anything, the more upset it made him feel, the better he played.

  Five minutes later, Yunis saw Jake pick the ball up wide on the halfway line. He knew what would happen next. They’d talked about this – and practised it. So he jogged towards the other wing, keeping level with the last defender, thirty yards out.

  Jake tapped the ball to Chi, who turned and fed the ball down the touchline. Jake was on to it like a flash. The perfect one‐two. Three touches, at pace, and Jake was level with the eighteen‐yard box.

  Then suddenly Yunis sprinted towards the far post, losing his marker easily.

  Jake looked up and crossed the ball, curling it on to Yunis’s head.

  Yunis directed it down to his right.

  Goal.

  Six–one.

  The Wigan keeper on the ground again.

  And all the United parents cheering and clapping.

  The Getaway

  Yunis saw the referee check his watch and pull his whistle out. He was waiting for that. Waiting for the chance to get off the pitch. Quickly.

  Three long blasts on the whistle were followed by more loud applause from the parents. Two big wins on the trot was good. Things were going well for the Academy’s under‐twelves. And for Yunis.

  Yunis looked at the parents, each walking towards their son. Jake’s dad calling Yunis over. Yunis waved back at him, but kept on going.

  It was nice of Jake’s dad to try to congratulate him, but Yunis wanted to get to the dressing rooms as soon as he could. It would have been satisfying to take all the praise he knew he’d get if he hung around. But the fact that his dad wasn’t t
here – and everybody else’s was – made him feel sad.

  He just wanted to get away.

  As he walked off, only one father and son were ahead of him: James and his dad.

  James’s dad was the former United player and England international Cyril Cunningham.

  James was the only player at United’s Academy whose dad had been an international footballer. There were a couple who had lower‐league dads. And a few with top‐flight grandads. But James’s dad was the most impressive. He had seventeen caps for his country. He’d even played in the World Cup. And he was famous for being the second‐ever black player to play for England.

  Yunis saw that James’s dad had his arm round his son. He was coaching him. Yunis could tell. And he could imagine what he was saying. Running him through all the good things he’d done. Highlighting the things he could work on to become a better player.

  He slowed down, so he didn’t catch up with them.

  He had to admit it to himself: he was jealous. Sick‐as‐a‐dog jealous.

  Yunis had nearly made it to the dressing rooms, when he heard a voice behind him. Craig’s voice.

  Yunis kept walking. It was strange for Craig to be talking to him. He’d expected to hear Jake’s voice. Or Will’s. For one thing he knew Craig would be with his dad. He was always with his dad. Theirs was another of the father–son relationships he envied.

  ‘Yunis? Yunis?’ Craig was calling again.

  He had to look round. If someone calls your name, you must answer them. That’s what his dad always said. It would be disrespectful not to.

  So Yunis stopped, turned round and smiled. Craig was with his dad. It was uncanny how similar they looked. Both tall and broad‐shouldered. Both with a mess of wiry hair. Yunis had heard Jake talk about Craig’s family. They were all like that.

  ‘Well done, son,’ the man said. ‘You played a stormer today. That third goal. When you chipped the keeper. Brilliant. How did you pull that off ?’

  Yunis smiled, then shrugged.

  ‘Your dad not here? Your mum?’ Craig’s dad said, looking back at the crowd of parents and players moving towards them across the fields. ‘I bet they’ll wish they’d not missed this one.’

  ‘No,’ Yunis said. ‘They…’

  ‘They’re never here,’ Craig said, ‘are they, Yunis?’

  As soon as Craig spoke, Yunis felt a pressure in his head. A hot feeling. He was convinced that Craig was having a go at him, taking the mick. And he wasn’t having that.

  So he just turned his back and walked away.

  His dad would have been furious with him. Never turn your back on someone while they’re talking to you.

  But Yunis was sick of his dad’s rules.

  He was feeling bad enough anyway.

  And the worst thing was, he could hear Craig and his dad talking.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’

  ‘He’s a… ’ Yunis didn’t catch what Craig had said.

  Yunis walked more quickly. Angry. Confused. Lonely. And feeling like he hated everybody and everything.

  Sunday 16 October

  United 6 Wigan 1

  Goals: Yunis (4), Jake, Will

  Bookings: Craig

  Under‐twelves manager’s marks out of ten for each player:

  Tomasz 6

  Connor 6

  James 7

  Ryan 7

  Craig 5

  Chi 6

  Sam 7

  Will 7

  Jake 8

  Yunis 10

  Ben 7

  On Form

  ‘Are you all right?’

  It was Jake. He sat down next to Yunis in the dressing rooms.

  Yunis was almost changed.

  Yunis knew Jake better than anyone. They’d met at the trials for the under‐twelves earlier in the autumn. And they’d hit it off. On the pitch and off it.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Yunis said, grinning at his friend.

  ‘You were great today. That chip. It was awesome.’

  ‘You set the other three up,’ Yunis said. ‘So it’s thanks to you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jake said. ‘You should have hung around though – everyone was raving about you after the game. The Wigan manager especially. I think he wants to poach you.’

  Yunis smiled, but said nothing. And neither did Jake for a minute.

  ‘It’s your dad, isn’t it?’ Jake said eventually.

  ‘What?’ Yunis answered.

  ‘You’re annoyed about your dad.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re not,’ Jake said. ‘There’s something up.’

  ‘Since when have you been a mind‐reader?’ Yunis said. ‘I thought footballers were supposed to be stupid.’

  Jake laughed.

  Yunis felt OK talking to Jake about this. ‘He’s just never here,’ Yunis said. ‘And he’s always going on about how much he hates football… And Mum never comes either – because she knows he’s so against it.’

  ‘He’ll come round,’ Jake said.

  ‘But he won’t.’ Yunis had that feeling again. The pressure in his head. He kept his voice low. ‘You don’t understand. Your dad’s about as good as a dad can get. Mine’s rubbish. Imagine if your dad wasn’t there to say how well you’d done. Even to criticize you. I’d be happy even if he was here saying how rubbish I was. I’d be happier than this.’

  But Jake had stopped listening. He was staring at the other side of the dressing room. There was an argument between some of the other players.

  Yunis looked to where the commotion was coming from.

  Ryan was at it again. Having a go at Tomasz.

  Ryan was the team captain. And a bit of a bully at times. Jake had had a run‐in with him earlier in the season, but they’d sorted their differences out. But Ryan was forever having a go at Tomasz, United’s keeper, who came from Poland.

  ‘Say “goalkeeper”,’ Ryan said.

  ‘Golkeeper,’ Tomasz said, playing along.

  ‘It’s “goal”, not “gol”,’ Ryan laughed.

  ‘Gol.’

  Ryan sneered. ‘Say “that”.’

  ‘Zat.’

  Ryan was getting louder and louder. And Tomasz was getting more and more frustrated. Yunis worried about what could happen next. He wondered if Tomasz would ever hit Ryan. Probably not.

  But Yunis was so cross about it – on top of everything else – that he felt like hitting Ryan himself. He was just about to stand up and tell Ryan to stop, when Steve Cooper – the under‐twelves manager – came into the dressing room.

  Ryan stopped winding Tomasz up immediately.

  Steve Cooper was a man of medium height with dark straggly hair and a deep booming voice. Most of the lads really liked him. But no one messed him about.

  ‘Right, lads,’ Steve said. ‘That was brilliant. Thank you. I really enjoyed that performance.’

  The boys were sitting in a four‐sided dressing room, benches round three of the sides and a row of showers in a long cubicle. They were all trying to look serious, as if they were listening to his words and taking them in. But most of them couldn’t help grinning. It was good to be praised. Especially by Steve. He’d even thanked them!

  ‘Yunis. Four goals. That was excellent. In fact, all of you forwards and midfielders did well. Those moves we practised last week. The passing. Does it make sense?’

  Half the team muttered yes. All of them nodded.

  ‘But the defence. That was the heart of it. Well led, Ryan. Really good. And Tomasz. Those early saves set up the win. Well done, all of you.’

  Steve glanced at his clipboard.

  ‘Oh yes, I wanted to remind those of you who haven’t come back with the signed slip from your parents, that the deadline for confirming a place on the Poland trip, during the school holidays, is a week on Monday.’

  Yunis glanced at Tomasz who was grinning. He knew Tomasz would be happy about going back to Poland.

  James and Chi began rummaging in their bags, looking for
the signed forms that permitted them to go with the club to take part in a tournament against several European under‐twelves teams. Including Real Madrid.

  ‘If I don’t get the slips,’ Steve said, ‘then you can’t come. It’s as simple as that. If anyone needs to talk about it, you know where I am. OK, another thing…’

  Yunis had switched off from the rest of what Steve had to say.

  He’d not even shown the letter about Poland to his mum and dad. There was no way they would let him go – even though it was during the school holidays. Nor had he told Steve he had a problem with it. He’d just ignored it. So now he definitely had a problem.

  Should he show his dad the letter tonight?

  What was the point? He had no chance.

  Home Truths

  ‘Would you pass the salt, Yunis, please?’

  Yunis picked up a cut‐glass salt‐cellar and handed it to his father.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Yunis’s dad had picked him up outside the United training ground after Monday‐night training as usual, then brought him home. Now they were having their evening family meal in the dining room, the table set, napkins on their knees, the television off.

  Just how his dad liked it.

  The room was small, with just enough space for the dining table and four chairs. There was a huge sideboard along the far side of the room, displaying plates and family photographs.

  Yunis knew most of his mates had their dinner in front of the TV. But his dad always insisted on this. Every night.

  ‘Did you have a good day at school, Jasminder?’ Mum said to Yunis’s sister.

  ‘Yes, thank you. We wrote a story in English. And Miss Page said mine was very good.’

  Yunis sat quietly. Today he was angry with both his parents. And his sister, come to that. This meal where they had to talk to each other was so annoying. They were playing at being a happy family, but all he could think about was how his mum and dad never came to watch him at United. How happy did that make him feel?