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division and Jamie’s form had almost returned to its top level.
    â€œSo he’s on goal bonuses, is he?” said Jamie, suddenly thinking back to how keen Dillon had been to take the free-kick that had led to Jamie being sent off for pushing the ref.
    It had also given Jamie an idea of how he might be able to do his new mate Robbie a little favour.
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    â€œSo what’s he like then?” asked Stuart Cribbins, Seaport’s left-winger. He was one of the best characters in the squad. And certainly the funniest dancer!
    The whole of the Seaport Town squad was in the clubhouse watching Hawkstone v Aldwich City, which was live on the TV. It was a big game. Hawkstone had to win it to go second.
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    Premier League Table

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    It had been Porlock’s idea to get all the players and staff together to celebrate Seaport’s recent good form. They could even make the play-offs now.
    â€œWhat’s who like, Stu?” asked Jamie, vacantly. He didn’t like talking much when Hawkstone were playing. He wanted to watch and remember everything that was going on in the game and he couldn’t do that while he was talking.
    â€œBertorelli,” said Cribbins. “What’s he like in the dressing room then? Is he as cool as he looks? Has he got women coming out of his ears? Come on, spill the beans!”
    Jamie turned to Cribbins. A couple of weeks ago, he might have stood up and punched him. Might have told him never to mention Bertorelli’s name again.
    But now, right at this moment, Jamie didn’t feel angry. In fact, with the way things had been going on the pitch for Seaport and with his form returning so rapidly, Jamie actually felt happier than he had done for a really long time.
    â€œShall I tell you a secret about Bertorelli?” asked Jamie, pretending to whisper but actually speaking loud enough for the whole of the Seaport squad to hear him.
    â€œYeah,” said Cribbins, his eyes widening like a child about to receive his birthday present. “Yeah, go on, tell us an’ all!”
    â€œOK,” said Jamie, looking around. “But it’s a secret, remember?”
    â€œYeah, I know,” said Cribbins. “Go on, tell us.”
    â€œOK,” said Jamie. “Well . . . Mattheus Bertorelli is not as cool as he seems. On his bum, right . . . he’s got a whole load of spots!”
    â€œWhat?” laughed Cribbins. There were grins from the growing group of players now surrounding Jamie to catch the gossip.
    â€œYeah – it’s true,” said Jamie. “I’m not talking normal spots here, either. I’m talking big, red boils, full of pus! They’re so big that they sometimes pop in the shower and squirt everywhere. I’m not joking! Once he said that some had got infected and it was too painful for him to train! He missed training because of boils on his bum! Have you ever heard of that?!”
    By now everyone in the room, including Jamie, was bent double, laughing. A couple of the players found it so funny they almost started crying!
    Yes, it was all a complete and utter lie, but Jamie didn’t care – he was too busy cracking up.
    And he realized something else too: he was beginning to feel right at home at Seaport Town.
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    Jamie was up off his seat before the Hawkstone goal had even gone in.
    He knew what was going to happen before anyone else because it was a set-piece they had practised every day in training: Glenn Richardson drifted a corner to the near post, where it was flicked on by Bertorelli. Meanwhile, Rigobert West, a.k.a. The Beast, would make a run to meet the ball at the far post.
    The plan had just worked to perfection. It was a winner in the eighty-sixth minute. Hawkstone were going back to second in the Premier League and Jamie Johnson was going a little bit mental. . .
    â€œOh baby!” he roared, leaping up off his chair as though he’d just been fired from an ejector