Football Academy: Reading the Game Read online

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  READING THE GAME

  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.

  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 series:

  BOYS UNITED

  STRIKING OUT

  THE REAL THING

  READING THE GAME

  For older readers

  FOOTBALL DETECTIVE: FOUL PLAY

  FOOTBALL DETECTIVE: DEAD BALL

  TOM PALMER

  READING THE GAME

  Illustrated by

  Brian Williamson

  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: 978-0-14-193116-6

  For Nikki Woodman

  Contents

  Teamwork

  Big Brother

  Panic

  Class War

  Steve at School

  Anticipation

  The Shot

  The Letter

  Losing Everything

  Cigarette?

  A Cup of Tea

  Record Score

  Lost

  Practice Makes Perfect

  One to One

  It’s a Sign

  Leeds Away

  Reading the Game

  Thank Yous

  Teamwork

  Ben could see what Ryan was going to do before he did it. He knew how his friend liked to play football.

  Ryan would trap the ball, then look up, ready to play it forward. To his left, or to his right.

  He always did that.

  So Ben sprinted up the pitch, his arm in the air, shouting, ‘Ryan!’ And, just as he thought, Ryan controlled the ball and played it forward to Ben’s feet.

  Now Ben had three options: run with the ball, pass it back to Ryan, or play in another team-mate who was moving forward too.

  Ben knew who would be moving forward.

  Yunis would be making a direct run into the area.

  Will would be drifting to the far post.

  And Jake would be in the space behind the Manchester City defenders on the other side of the pitch.

  He looked up. The defenders had gone with Yunis and Will, back-pedalling desperately. As a result, Jake was in loads of space.

  So Ben played it to Jake, cutting the Manchester City defence in half.

  Ben could see what would happen next too. United would score.

  Jake took the ball to the touchline, side-stepped his defender and slid the ball to Yunis’s feet.

  Yunis did the rest, clipping the ball in. Low and hard. The Manchester City defence was all over the place.

  One–one.

  That was better. At least they weren’t losing now.

  This was an important game, the first for the under-twelves since coming back from a tournament in Poland a week ago.

  United’s under-twelves were all really good players. The best in their region. United were a top side in the Premiership and some of this under-twelves team were expected to become professionals in a few years’ time. Maybe even internationals.

  Ben watched Jake and Yunis celebrating in the penalty area. They always looked odd together. Little and large. Jake was small and thin; Yunis tall and muscular. The two of them turned and did a thumbs up to Ben.

  Ben smiled. He loved playing with these two. He knew their games so well. They were good players: always in the right place at the right time.

  Then Ben looked at the parents, a row of figures in cagoules and jumpers on the far side. They were standing behind a narrow bar that ran along the length of the pitch, on the opposite side to the United coaches and substitutes.

  Then Ben saw his own family.

  His mum, standing behind the pushchair. The baby, Tom, all wrapped up. His brother and sister, Cameron and Molly, laughing and waving.

  Ben’s mum waved to him and grinned. She knew he’d set the goal up. She knew about football. She’d taught him how to play when he was younger than Molly or Cameron, when he was her only child. After his first dad had walked out and left them.

  Ben gave his attention back to the game. Now United could try to win it.

  They’d been a goal down since the first minute, when James, the central defender, had made a terrible mistake, letting one of the Manchester City attackers break into the penalty area, unmarked.

  It was so out of character for James to let something like that happen. But Ben knew that everyone made mistakes. Even the team’s best player, which James definitely was, as well as being the son of a former England international.

  Manchester City retrieved the ball for the kick-off. There were ten minutes left.

  Ryan came over to Ben.

  ‘Nice one, Ben,’ he said. ‘That ball you played to Jake. Not bad.’

  ‘Cheers,’ Ben said, beaming.

  Ben was always happy to get praise from Ryan. He was the team captain. And a good mate. They were in the same class at school too.

  Sometimes Ryan could be a bit mean to the other players. But recently – since United had been back from Poland – he’d been a lot better. Less likely to make trouble.

  But Ben knew he had to focus on the game. It was still one all.

  Manchester City were about to kick off. United could still win it. Or lose it.

  Sunday 27 November

  United 1 Manchester City 1

  Goals: Yunis

  Bookings: Craig, James

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

  Tomasz 6

  Connor 7

  James 4

  Ryan 6

 
Craig 5

  Chi 6

  Sam 7

  Will 6

  Jake 7

  Yunis 7

  Ben 7

  Big Brother

  After the final whistle, the parents were allowed to talk to the boys. Ben’s mum came over immediately and hugged him.

  Then Molly hugged him. And Cameron. Tom had fallen asleep, but Ben touched his face.

  ‘Well played, Ben,’ Mum said. ‘You were really good today. Man of the match.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, trying to get out of being hugged.

  He was shocked. His mum was always supportive, but she’d never said that before. Not in all his thirty or forty games for United over the last three years. If she’d said it, she meant it.

  Mum looked at her watch. ‘I’m sorry, though, love. I need to be off in five minutes.’

  This was not new.

  After home games Ben’s mum sometimes had to go to work, at a cafe in the town centre. She brought the kids to watch the game, then Ben had to take them home and sort their food out. And entertain them. All afternoon.

  ‘Fine,’ Ben said. ‘I’ll be changed in no time.’

  He ran to the dressing rooms, slung his kit in his bag and got changed. No time for a shower.

  Then he was off.

  As he was leaving, Steve Cooper – the team manager – came in. He was a big man, with wild dark hair and a deep booming voice.

  ‘Got to look after the kids?’ Steve said.

  ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

  ‘No worries,’ Steve said. ‘No dads around?’

  ‘Neither of them.’ Ben shrugged.

  ‘Well, I’ll catch up with you later,’ Steve said. ‘But I just want to say you played really well today, Ben. That goal was down to you. All that hard work you’ve been doing in training is really paying off, isn’t it?’

  Ben nodded, smiling.

  ‘Go on,’ Steve said. ‘Go.’

  Ben raced outside. Molly and Cameron flung themselves at him, just as his team-mates were trooping back from the pitches. Ben loved this, having two younger siblings who worshipped him in front of all his friends.

  His mum handed him the house keys and turned the pushchair round for him.

  ‘Thanks, love,’ she said.

  It was only a ten-minute walk to get the kids home. Ben would have to think of things to do with them until his mum came back at teatime.

  He looked over at a group of his team-mates standing near the building that made up United’s training facilities. They had the afternoon off now. They were free to do what they wanted: watch the match on satellite TV, play on their computers or go round to their mates’. Sometimes he envied them.

  ‘Shall we go home?’ Ben said.

  ‘Poo,’ Molly said, grinning wickedly, as they walked past Yunis and Jake.

  ‘What?’ Ben said, catching Jake’s eye. Jake was grinning too.

  ‘Poo,’ Molly said again.

  ‘Poo,’ Cameron said, louder.

  ‘Molly. Cameron. Stop it.’

  ‘Poo! Poo! Poo! Poo! Poo!’

  ‘Stop it,’ Ben whispered, kneeling down. They were alone now, on the way down to the main road. There was a line of trees, then a row of fences protecting several training pitches.

  ‘Why?’ Cameron said.

  ‘You can’t say that,’ Ben said. ‘Not in front of other people.’

  ‘Wee,’ Molly said.

  ‘Molly!’

  ‘You say “poo”,’ Cameron said. ‘And “wee”.’

  Ben nodded. ‘I do, but not in front of other people.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why can’t we say “poo”?’ Cameron added.

  ‘It’s rude,’ Ben said.

  ‘But you say it,’ Cameron said again.

  ‘Only to you two,’ Ben whispered. ‘Not to anyone else.’

  ‘Can we say it now?’ Molly said.

  Ben looked down the road, then behind them, and nodded. ‘Yes, now it’s just us you can. But quietly.’

  ‘Poo,’ Molly said.

  ‘Wee wee,’ Cameron said.

  ‘Bog.’

  ‘Plop plop.’

  ‘Sick.’

  Ben grinned. He had thought it was funny teaching his younger siblings some rude – but not very rude – words. Now he was starting to regret it.

  Panic

  ‘Right, lads.’

  Steve Cooper had gathered the squad together, sitting on the grass in a goalmouth. It was Monday evening.

  The training pitches were next to a large wood and alongside a river. On the other side of the river there was a stately home with posh gardens and a visitors’ centre. Ben had visited the place several times as a young boy.

  They had warmed up with runs and some close passing, and now Steve was addressing them.

  ‘First of all: the game yesterday,’ he said. ‘Very good. Maybe we didn’t win, but the teamwork was great. The way you played together: excellent. And I thought Ben had a great match. He really read the game superbly. I was very pleased.’

  Ben grinned and looked at Ryan. This felt good. He liked being praised, especially in front of the rest of the team.

  Ryan made a face like he was angry with Ben, but then he grinned.

  ‘Here’s what we’re going to do tonight,’ Steve said. ‘More work on options in front of the goal. Trying to set yourself up so you can cope with more than one thing happening.’

  Steve arranged the boys in groups in the penalty area, with Tomasz in goal.

  Each boy had to run towards the penalty area, and Steve – standing on the penalty spot – would throw the ball to either his left or right. Then the player had to shoot first time.

  The idea was to predict which way Steve would throw the ball, then to adjust your footing if you got it wrong. And, of course, to score.

  In the dressing rooms after training, Craig and Chi were holding a sheet of paper.

  Chi was a midfielder too, a calm player, one of the more experienced boys at United. Craig was a defender and the team joker.

  ‘Ben, have you seen this?’ Chi asked. ‘It’s a match report on yesterday,’ Craig added. ‘It’s all about you. Ben Blake this… Ben Blake that…’

  Ben smiled. This was great – more praise. He could get used to this. He wanted one of them to read it to him.

  Then Craig came across and handed it to Ben.

  Ben felt his heart begin to race, but he took the sheet of paper. This was what he knew he was meant to do. He sat down and stared at the sheet, which was covered in words. He nodded and smiled for a minute or so – taking as long as he thought it might take to read it.

  Then he made to hand it back to Craig.

  But Craig looked surprised. ‘What about the end bit?’

  ‘What?’ Ben said. He was feeling sick now. He looked at the page again. The words were swimming across it. In his panic, he couldn’t make any of them out.

  ‘The end bit. Read it.’

  ‘I’ll… I’ll read it later,’ Ben stammered.

  ‘Later? Read it now. It’s about you.’

  Ben could feel his face and the skin around his neck getting hot. This was his worst nightmare come true. Everyone at school knew he was stupid. But at the Academy people thought he was OK. Even clever.

  Now he was about to lose the one last place in the world where people didn’t think he was stupid.

  ‘Get lost, Craig. If I don’t want to read it, I won’t. OK?’

  Ben moved forward and pushed past Craig.

  Craig looked confused, staring at Ben in disbelief. And Ben could only stand there like a statue, not knowing what to do or say next.

  And then the paper was snatched from his hand.

  Ben turned, ready to fight now. If someone was going to mock him he’d get the first blow in.

  But it was Ryan. The only one who could help.

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ Ryan said, not stopping to let anyone else speak. ‘Blah blah blah… “Ben Blake had his best game yet for the
under-twelves”… blah blah blah… “his reading of the game was as good as you’d expect from an under-eighteen”… blah blah blah… “United will have high hopes he’ll make it as a professional if he carries on showing this level of maturity…”’

  Ben didn’t know what to feel. Thrilled to have such things said about him? Stupid, for pushing past Craig? Or sick with shame that Ryan was standing there reading it out for him.

  Because Ben had this thing. A secret that his busy mum and his absent dads – even his teachers – didn’t know about.

  Ben couldn’t read.

  After Ben had gone home, Steve, the team manager, took Ryan aside. Ryan was used to being taken aside by Steve, mainly because he was forever getting into trouble. But also because he was team captain and Steve looked to him to sort out minor problems.

  Ryan assumed it was because he’d done something to annoy Steve. But he was wrong.

  ‘What was all that about earlier?’ Steve said.

  ‘All what?’ Ryan replied.

  ‘With Ben.’

  ‘Oh, that,’ Ryan said. ‘Just a scuffle. Nothing.’

  ‘Why was Ben so upset?’

  Ryan shrugged. There was no way he was going to give up Ben’s secret. ‘Nothing. Just stuff. You know,’ he said.

  ‘And he’s all right at school?’ Steve asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ryan said, knowing he didn’t sound convincing. Ben was not all right at school, far from it. Ryan had to help him with his reading and writing, something nobody else knew.

  ‘OK then…’ Steve raised an eyebrow and headed back inside.

  Class War

  If Ben was at his happiest playing and training for United, he was at his unhappiest at school. And things had got worse since he’d come to high school. Much worse. Primary school had been bearable, but there was no hiding from his reading problems now he was in year seven.