was the sneakiest player on the pitch, Marcus decided. If he wasn’t pulling his shirt, tugging his shorts, chatting shit in his ear, then he was blocking his view or standing on his foot. When all of that failed, Leonard simply clattered him and conceded the foul. Mr Davies loved everything Leonard did. Going deeper had no effect, Leonard simply followed him. It was a battle. Marcus learned to face Leonard rather than have him at his back, and to push off him at the last moment before he got the ball. Then, when he collected it, Marcus controlled it and passed it first touch.
Slowly, Marcus’s one-touch moves began to make Leonard look clumsy. When, in six attempts one after the other, Marcus escaped Leonard and made the pass to Jamil, everyone could see Marcus had the beating of him.
‘Chin up, Leonard,’ Mr Davies rallied, as Leonard’s head dropped. ‘Anthony Vialli can’t play tight like Marky, you’ll eat Anthony alive, Leonard. Keep on!’
Finally Leonard hacked Marcus down in the middle of the pitch, with the ball nowhere near them, right on the left shin injury. Marcus fell to the ground, clutching his leg. Leonard stood over him. ‘Fairy!’
‘Alright, alright!’ called the coach, over them fast. ‘Jamil take Marcus’s place. Marcus lose that frown, Leonard’s only carrying out orders. Easy on Jamil, Leonard, we need him for the match. And don’t bother with the verbals any more, you’re just too good, Lenny!’
‘He calls
me
a fairy and he’s going to Neverland!’ proclaimed Jamil, fists high. ‘I’ll smack him that hard!’
Everyone laughed, even Leonard.
Marcus limped off and the session went on without him. He was bruised all over. His left sock was soaked red with blood. He stood alone by the side of the training grid, watching Leonard call all the shots and the coach love Leonard for it.
THE LEAGUE DECIDER
M arcus was on the touchline, shuffling his feet. He hated it there. He belonged in the centre of the pitch, where Leonard was now. The wind was clipping his neck, whipping in from the other side. Over on that side, he could make out Mr Vialli, giving it large with a clipboard and a stopwatch. So Adele was right about that one, her dad had taken over as Bowker coach. He missed Adele. He remembered her fooling around in the car the first time they’d met. The Bowker team was all around Mr Vialli. Marcus spotted among them Dwayne and Mohammad, two of the Bowker players he had teamed up with at Summer School. Around the Bowker players were a bunch of keen parents, two Labradors and a Chihuahua. Adele spotted Marcus looking and waved. Marcus waved back quickly. He wanted her to run over to him but he knew that was not on. He quickly texted her a ‘hiya’ instead. Then he looked along the Ducie touchline.
Mr Davies was next to Marcus in his sleeping-bag-coat-thing, talking with the Manchester United scout. A stray dog appeared to be listening in. ‘Have you ever seen a better pitch?’ Mr Davies was saying. ‘Look at that semi-circle, we re-turfed it, same with the goal-line and the penalty spot zones. We’ve had the …ker up and down it for …age, then rollered it. See how level it is? Got to … the best pitch in the schools league or my name’s not Larry.’
The stray dog sniffed Mr Davies’s bottom half-heartedly.
‘It looks a good pitch, Mr Davies,’ the scout smiled, ‘Why’s Marcus … playing?’
Mr Davies scowled, swiping at the dog behind him. ‘Disciplinary matters. I begged the head of year, but he’s a sandwich short, doesn’t understand football at all. One point … the league’s ours for the first time in a decade, yet he pulls our best player – sabotage. Like I say, a sandwich short, between you and me. You’ve got to give leeway with the council estate kids, lower your expectations; parents’ chaotic lifestyles and all that.’ Mr Davies’s eyebrows wiggled to emphasise the point.
The coach turned to Marcus. ‘… discipline issue,
Slowly, Marcus’s one-touch moves began to make Leonard look clumsy. When, in six attempts one after the other, Marcus escaped Leonard and made the pass to Jamil, everyone could see Marcus had the beating of him.
‘Chin up, Leonard,’ Mr Davies rallied, as Leonard’s head dropped. ‘Anthony Vialli can’t play tight like Marky, you’ll eat Anthony alive, Leonard. Keep on!’
Finally Leonard hacked Marcus down in the middle of the pitch, with the ball nowhere near them, right on the left shin injury. Marcus fell to the ground, clutching his leg. Leonard stood over him. ‘Fairy!’
‘Alright, alright!’ called the coach, over them fast. ‘Jamil take Marcus’s place. Marcus lose that frown, Leonard’s only carrying out orders. Easy on Jamil, Leonard, we need him for the match. And don’t bother with the verbals any more, you’re just too good, Lenny!’
‘He calls
me
a fairy and he’s going to Neverland!’ proclaimed Jamil, fists high. ‘I’ll smack him that hard!’
Everyone laughed, even Leonard.
Marcus limped off and the session went on without him. He was bruised all over. His left sock was soaked red with blood. He stood alone by the side of the training grid, watching Leonard call all the shots and the coach love Leonard for it.
THE LEAGUE DECIDER
M arcus was on the touchline, shuffling his feet. He hated it there. He belonged in the centre of the pitch, where Leonard was now. The wind was clipping his neck, whipping in from the other side. Over on that side, he could make out Mr Vialli, giving it large with a clipboard and a stopwatch. So Adele was right about that one, her dad had taken over as Bowker coach. He missed Adele. He remembered her fooling around in the car the first time they’d met. The Bowker team was all around Mr Vialli. Marcus spotted among them Dwayne and Mohammad, two of the Bowker players he had teamed up with at Summer School. Around the Bowker players were a bunch of keen parents, two Labradors and a Chihuahua. Adele spotted Marcus looking and waved. Marcus waved back quickly. He wanted her to run over to him but he knew that was not on. He quickly texted her a ‘hiya’ instead. Then he looked along the Ducie touchline.
Mr Davies was next to Marcus in his sleeping-bag-coat-thing, talking with the Manchester United scout. A stray dog appeared to be listening in. ‘Have you ever seen a better pitch?’ Mr Davies was saying. ‘Look at that semi-circle, we re-turfed it, same with the goal-line and the penalty spot zones. We’ve had the …ker up and down it for …age, then rollered it. See how level it is? Got to … the best pitch in the schools league or my name’s not Larry.’
The stray dog sniffed Mr Davies’s bottom half-heartedly.
‘It looks a good pitch, Mr Davies,’ the scout smiled, ‘Why’s Marcus … playing?’
Mr Davies scowled, swiping at the dog behind him. ‘Disciplinary matters. I begged the head of year, but he’s a sandwich short, doesn’t understand football at all. One point … the league’s ours for the first time in a decade, yet he pulls our best player – sabotage. Like I say, a sandwich short, between you and me. You’ve got to give leeway with the council estate kids, lower your expectations; parents’ chaotic lifestyles and all that.’ Mr Davies’s eyebrows wiggled to emphasise the point.
The coach turned to Marcus. ‘… discipline issue,
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