Read Online Golden Goal by Dan Freedman - Free Book Online Page B

saying. “It shows an organized mind.”
    Jamie rolled his eyes. He wondered if the man had ever taken a risk in his life.
    Archie Fairclough probably looked older than he actually was. When Jamie had first seen him, he’d thought that he must have been about seventy. But, having worked with him for just a few hours, Jamie soon realized that the wrinkles he’d taken for age were actually just lines – evidence of the countless days he’d spent out in the open air.
    The other feature that struck Jamie about Archie was his strength. With his huge hands, he’d clasp a set of five-a-side goals, raise them above his head and walk the length of the pitch with them. His tattooed biceps bulged through the Hawkstone T-shirt that was his daily uniform.
    â€œAll right, Cloughie!” all the Hawkstone First Teamers shouted whenever they saw Archie.
    He was pretty much a legend within the club. He’d been the Hawks groundsman for twenty years, and when veteran midfielder Harry Armstrong had been appointed Hawkstone player-manager a few days before, one of the first decisions he’d made was to give Archie a promotion and ask him to sit in the dugout during First Team games.
    So now Archie’s grand title was Head Groundsman and Kit Manager. Jamie’s title was simply Archie Fairclough’s Assistant.

 
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    â€œWhat’s your second name, by the way?” asked Archie as he led Jamie out to the pitches. “I need to let the finance people know all your details so that you get your huge pay packet at the end of the month!”
    For some reason this made Archie laugh almost uncontrollably. He was properly cracking up. His mug was shaking so much that the tea was beginning to spill down the side.
    â€œJohnson,” said Jamie.
    â€œJohnson, eh?” Archie repeated, studying Jamie closely as he spoke. “You know, there was a great young player at this club once called Mike Johnson – he was playing when I first started supporting Hawkstone. Centre back, he was. As hard as nails. If it hadn’t been for his injury, he could have done anything in the game. Tell you what, we could do with a player like him now…”
    â€œYeah,” said Jamie. He could feel the slight salty prickle of a tear in the corner of his eye. “I’ve heard about Mike Johnson.”
    â€œOK,” said Archie, changing the subject. “The first thing you can do is take these over to the academy boys.”
    He was pointing to a crate of energy drinks. “They’ll come over and drink them at half-time in their game. And make sure you bring back all the empty cartons.”
    Jamie nodded and started to lug the crate over towards the academy players. He could feel the hot sweat dripping down inside his tracksuit top. He realized that he had hardly done any exercise at all in the last eight months. He was so unfit.
    As soon as he arrived, all the academy players gathered quickly around him, snatching the drinks like a group of prisoners that had been starved of water.
    They downed the drinks and then chucked the cartons on the ground beneath them. Not one of them bothered to hand their carton back to Jamie. Or say thanks.
    Jamie was just bending down to pick them up when he heard the voice that immediately brought back a torrent of bad memories.
    â€œJohnson – is that you?”
    Jamie didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was Dillon Simmonds.
    Dillon was by far the worst enemy that Jamie had ever had. They had hated each other since the day Jamie had started at Kingfield School. It was Dillon who had started it – having a go at Jamie for being small and always saying how rubbish Jamie was at football.
    Dillon had done some really evil things to Jamie, but Jamie had never let it show that he was upset. He didn’t want to give Dillon the satisfaction.
    Even when Dillon had pulled one of his worst