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Authors: Mary Arrigan
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goodnight hug.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AN UNEXPECTED TRAINING SESSION
‘ T hat new soccer coach is dead cool, isn’t he, Milo?’ Shane asked on our way home from practice a few days later. ‘You know,’ he went on, ‘I think I might get to like soccer.’
‘Yeah, it’s OK,’ I said. ‘We’re still rubbish, though.’
‘No, we’re not,’ Shane hotly declared. ‘We’re doing pretty good.’
Well, the biggest surprise came the next day when Mister Sullivan announced that we’d have a trial match to pick a team to play against Saint Mel’s in a week’s time.
‘Great,’ said Willie Jones. ‘We’ll get to go to that posh place where sixth class went. Do we get to stay over too?’
‘No,’ said Mister Sullivan. ‘It’s our turn to host a match.’
‘Aww,’ moaned Willie. ‘Count me out.’
‘I was going to do that anyway, Willie,’ said Mister Sullivan, grinning. ‘Running
away
from the ball doesn’t score any points for us.’
Well, two days later, Mister Sullivan tried us out on the soccer pitch. I laughed when Shane’s name was called out. I didn’t laugh when my name was called.
‘But I’m useless. Really, I am, Mister Sullivan,’ I protested.
‘You’ll do, Milo,’ he grinned. ‘Always look at the upside, not the downside.’
Shane said we should practise our moves, so, after school, we fetched his soccer ball, which had hardly ever been used, and headed to the pitch. I just couldn’t get over his enthusiasm. Two days ago, he had even bribed me with Big Ella’s chocolate biscuits to watch a couple of matches on telly with him.
‘Oh no,’ he muttered when we came near the pitch. ‘This is all we need – not!’
Coming down the road towards us were Wedge and Crunch.
‘Hide the ball, Milo,’ said Shane, shoving it into my hands.
‘Hide it where, Shane?’
‘Up your jumper. Quick!’
Did he really think they wouldn’t notice skinny me with a sudden big belly like his?
‘Oh darn it,’ he muttered, ‘they’ve seen us. Brace yourself, Milo.’
That was easy for him to say now that I was the one holding the ball. Running away wasn’t an option.
‘Perhaps if we avoid eye contact, they’ll just pass by,’ Shane whispered.
‘Hey,’ the two bullies said together.
‘Hey,’ we said back.
‘Nice ball,’ said Crunch.
‘Are you guys on the junior soccer team?’ asked Wedge.
‘Yes, we are,’ Shane answered defensively, waiting for the jeers and insults.
‘You must be good so,’ went on Wedge.
‘No, we’re not.’ I felt I had to say it before they would. ‘We’re rubbish.’ There, I thought, those two would have no stingingwords to throw at us now because we did it ourselves.
‘Speak for yourself,’ Shane hissed in my ear until he realised what I was trying to do.
‘Yeah?’ asked Crunch.
‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘Total rubbish.’ Now maybe they’d leave us alone and go away.
‘We could give you a few tips,’ said Wedge. ‘Come on and we’ll have a few kicks around.’
Oh shoot! My great plan flopped like a pigeon’s poo.
‘Nice one, Milo,’ Shane hissed in my ear as we followed them. ‘We’re dead.’
I knew that, but there was no turning back now. I shut my eyes for three seconds and wished for a load of guys to surge in for a game – then we’d have to leave. Needless to say, my message didn’t get to whoever looks after wusses like me and Shane up in the clouds. We kicked the ball around for acouple of minutes. Then Wedge came over to me. I braced myself for whatever was going to happen.
‘Where will you be playing?’ he asked.
‘Here in the field,’ I began. What was I saying? I was really asking for it.
‘I mean what position?’
‘Oh, centre field where Mister Sullivan says I can’t do much wrong.’
‘Good,’ Wedge nodded. ‘And what would you do if you saw a guy charging at you with the ball at his feet?’
‘I’d get it off him,’ I said.
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ snorted Shane.
‘Yes,
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AN UNEXPECTED TRAINING SESSION
‘ T hat new soccer coach is dead cool, isn’t he, Milo?’ Shane asked on our way home from practice a few days later. ‘You know,’ he went on, ‘I think I might get to like soccer.’
‘Yeah, it’s OK,’ I said. ‘We’re still rubbish, though.’
‘No, we’re not,’ Shane hotly declared. ‘We’re doing pretty good.’
Well, the biggest surprise came the next day when Mister Sullivan announced that we’d have a trial match to pick a team to play against Saint Mel’s in a week’s time.
‘Great,’ said Willie Jones. ‘We’ll get to go to that posh place where sixth class went. Do we get to stay over too?’
‘No,’ said Mister Sullivan. ‘It’s our turn to host a match.’
‘Aww,’ moaned Willie. ‘Count me out.’
‘I was going to do that anyway, Willie,’ said Mister Sullivan, grinning. ‘Running
away
from the ball doesn’t score any points for us.’
Well, two days later, Mister Sullivan tried us out on the soccer pitch. I laughed when Shane’s name was called out. I didn’t laugh when my name was called.
‘But I’m useless. Really, I am, Mister Sullivan,’ I protested.
‘You’ll do, Milo,’ he grinned. ‘Always look at the upside, not the downside.’
Shane said we should practise our moves, so, after school, we fetched his soccer ball, which had hardly ever been used, and headed to the pitch. I just couldn’t get over his enthusiasm. Two days ago, he had even bribed me with Big Ella’s chocolate biscuits to watch a couple of matches on telly with him.
‘Oh no,’ he muttered when we came near the pitch. ‘This is all we need – not!’
Coming down the road towards us were Wedge and Crunch.
‘Hide the ball, Milo,’ said Shane, shoving it into my hands.
‘Hide it where, Shane?’
‘Up your jumper. Quick!’
Did he really think they wouldn’t notice skinny me with a sudden big belly like his?
‘Oh darn it,’ he muttered, ‘they’ve seen us. Brace yourself, Milo.’
That was easy for him to say now that I was the one holding the ball. Running away wasn’t an option.
‘Perhaps if we avoid eye contact, they’ll just pass by,’ Shane whispered.
‘Hey,’ the two bullies said together.
‘Hey,’ we said back.
‘Nice ball,’ said Crunch.
‘Are you guys on the junior soccer team?’ asked Wedge.
‘Yes, we are,’ Shane answered defensively, waiting for the jeers and insults.
‘You must be good so,’ went on Wedge.
‘No, we’re not.’ I felt I had to say it before they would. ‘We’re rubbish.’ There, I thought, those two would have no stingingwords to throw at us now because we did it ourselves.
‘Speak for yourself,’ Shane hissed in my ear until he realised what I was trying to do.
‘Yeah?’ asked Crunch.
‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘Total rubbish.’ Now maybe they’d leave us alone and go away.
‘We could give you a few tips,’ said Wedge. ‘Come on and we’ll have a few kicks around.’
Oh shoot! My great plan flopped like a pigeon’s poo.
‘Nice one, Milo,’ Shane hissed in my ear as we followed them. ‘We’re dead.’
I knew that, but there was no turning back now. I shut my eyes for three seconds and wished for a load of guys to surge in for a game – then we’d have to leave. Needless to say, my message didn’t get to whoever looks after wusses like me and Shane up in the clouds. We kicked the ball around for acouple of minutes. Then Wedge came over to me. I braced myself for whatever was going to happen.
‘Where will you be playing?’ he asked.
‘Here in the field,’ I began. What was I saying? I was really asking for it.
‘I mean what position?’
‘Oh, centre field where Mister Sullivan says I can’t do much wrong.’
‘Good,’ Wedge nodded. ‘And what would you do if you saw a guy charging at you with the ball at his feet?’
‘I’d get it off him,’ I said.
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ snorted Shane.
‘Yes,
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