Hot Prospect (2 page)

“I wonder if Roddy might be interested in this,” he said, offering a leaflet to Roddy's dad. “There are limited places, and it's first come, first served, but I'm sure it would be worthwhile. They're a very prestigious organisation, and they haven't come to this area before.”

“What is it?” asked Roddy.

Roddy's dad passed him the leaflet. “It's a one-day football summer school,” he said. “Would you like to go?”

“It's run by Stadium School!” said Roddy, staring at the front of the smart, glossy flyer. “I saw a programme about them on TV.”

“This isn't actually going to be held at Stadium School,” Mr Taylor explained. “The summer-school day will be held at the County
Ground in our town, but the coaches are from Stadium School. I should think you'd pick up some good tips if you went along.”

Roddy looked at the leaflet again. On the front was a picture of a young player, not much older than himself, in the blue-and-green strip of the famous school. The TV programme had shown how students there had the best coaches and the most amazing facilities to help them develop a successful career in football. Leavers got picked up by clubs like Manchester United and Chelsea, and the presenter had interviewed one ex-student, who had recently been chosen to play for his country! It was the best place to be if you wanted to make it as a professional footballer, so it would be brilliant to get a taste of their coaching, even if it was just for a day. Mr Taylor and Dad were OK, but they weren't experts by any means.

“Ring the number now!” Roddy urged his dad. “Hurry, before all the places go. Please!”

Mr Jones laughed. “I'll do it as soon as we get back to the car,” he said. “Thanks,” he added to Mr Taylor. “It's good to find something exciting for Roddy to do in the holidays.”

“Will you
really
ring straight away?” demanded Roddy impatiently.

Dan looked at Mr Taylor. “Now look what you've done,” he joked. “I'm not going to get any peace until I've made that call.”

“See you at the car in a minute,” Roddy said. “I'm just going to tell Bryn about it. He's sure to want to go, too.”

Roddy headed towards his friend, who was sitting on the ground taking off his boots. In Roddy's mind they were both at the summer school already, learning all the skills they'd need to get into the first team at Valley Comp.

It'll be interesting to see what Jones and Thomas make of this chance. Thomas's performance can be a bit inconsistent, and Jones could do with better service from his team-mate. This is a big opportunity for them both to fine tune their skills, and make them even more of a force to be reckoned with
.

Roddy wondered if anyone famous would be there. It would be so cool if a professional footballer from the Premier League came along. Sometimes they did help out at things like this. Roddy felt excited just thinking about it. Picking up some real,
expert
advice would be a dream come true. Now he just had to hope there were some places left.

Fortunately there
were
places at the summer school for both Roddy and Bryn, so the week after school finished, they caught the bus down to the County Ground. Roddy wore the Wales strip he'd been given for his last birthday, and they both carried their boots in the bags they'd won.

There were kids of all ages there. Some adult helpers sorted them out into age groups and sent them off to different parts of the field, each with a Stadium School representative. Roddy didn't notice anyone famous, but Bryn recognised someone they'd seen at the tournament.

“There's that kid from the Manor Primary
team!” he whispered, as they followed their representative to an empty part of the field.

Sure enough, the boy who had fouled Roddy was in their group.

Roddy shrugged. “Never mind,” he said. “I expect he'll be all right. We're not in a final now.”

“Hello, everyone,” said the young group leader, who was wearing the stylish blue-and-green Stadium School strip that Roddy had seen on TV. “I'm Peter Denver, and I've just finished my final year at Stadium School.”

Roddy couldn't hide his disappointment. “He's just a student,” he muttered to Bryn. “I thought we were supposed to have a
real
coach!”

He'd meant the comment to come out quietly, but Peter obviously heard him. “Don't worry,” he said, grinning in Roddy's direction. “You'll be getting plenty of input later from
our juniors' coach, but I'm going to do some fun stuff with you while he's working with another group. And I can answer any questions you have about Stadium School. After all, I did go there for five years!”

“What's it like?” called out a curly-haired girl.

Peter smiled. “Brilliant!” he said. “It's so good to be at a school where everyone is crazy about the game. They even try to bring football into maths and other ordinary lessons. And being a boarding school, there's always someone to have a kick about with. I'm almost sorry to be leaving.”

“Where are you going now?” asked Roddy.

“I've been signed by Blackburn Rovers,” Peter told them, looking very proud. “I'll be starting in their youth squad in September.”

Peter had done what Roddy could only dream about. To live and breathe football,
and
come out of school signed to a good club. Roddy wasn't sure how he felt. Part of him was fiercely jealous, but he also felt rather in awe. More than anything, he felt challenged to do his very best today, to show Peter that even kids from
ordinary
schools could play great football.

“Come on then, let's get started,” said Peter. “All in a circle for keepy-uppy. Whoever lets the ball drop is out of the game, unless they're given a bad pass. My decision is final.” He dropped the ball he was carrying on to his foot and bounced it while he talked, then passed it neatly to Roddy. “Go!”

Roddy was taken by surprise. He wasn't expecting it to come to him first, but the pass was perfect and he easily had the ball under control. He flicked it across the circle to the curly-haired girl who had asked Peter a question, and was glad that his pass was given
the OK. Slowly, players began to drop out, either from trying to be too clever, or just from making mistakes. When there were only half a dozen left in the circle, Peter called an end to the game.

“All right,” he said. “Excellent stuff, but that's enough. We could be here all day if we waited for some of you to mess up! Now, let's try something else.”

When the juniors' coach, Mr Jenkins, came over, Peter spent a few minutes speaking to him quietly. The coach cast his gaze over the group and Roddy shivered with anticipation. The last hour had been great fun, but now they were going to be taught by someone really important. Roddy had devoured every word of the leaflet, so he knew that Mr Jenkins had played for Wales before he'd turned to coaching. That was partly why he'd decided to wear his Wales strip to the day.

The coach's eyes rested on Roddy for a moment and Roddy looked boldly back. He wanted the coach to see how determined he was. He might only be young, but football was his life, just as it was for any Premier League player.

“So, who here wants to be a professional footballer?” Mr Jenkins asked by way of introduction. Naturally, a chorus of “me” erupted from the group, and a smile broke across the coach's face. “And do you have what it takes? Peter here tells me you're pretty good, but it takes more than talent to make it as a pro. What else do you need?”

“Hard work!”

“Determination!”

“Luck!”

“Belief!”

“Passion!”

“All good answers,” said Mr Jenkins,
holding up his hand for silence. “Especially luck. There are literally thousands of kids like you who are football crazy, thousands who have the ability. A lot of kids never get the opportunity to make the next step, and most will only have the one shot at it. It's all about grabbing the chance when you get it, making the most of every bit of luck. But today's just a bit of fun. Let's split you up into teams for a few games. How many keepers have we got?” He counted the raised hands. “Five. Excellent. Goalies go over there, defenders here, midfielders in the middle and strikers, you come over by me. Now we can make some balanced teams.”

Once the players had sorted themselves out, Mr Jenkins chose teams of seven. Roddy and Bryn were split up, but Roddy didn't mind. It would be interesting to play with some different people for a change. The teams were
playing first to two goals and winner stays on. Roddy's team were on first. As his side put on blue bibs, Roddy spotted the Manor Primary player in the opposition. He hoped that there would be no hard feelings between them.

Rather than refereeing the game as Roddy had expected, Mr Jenkins stood on the side, sometimes calling out advice, as if he was the manager of both teams. The rest of the time he simply watched and made the occasional note, or chatted with the teams waiting to go on, leaving Peter to ref the games. Mr Jenkins had chosen the teams well, and the blues were evenly matched with their opponents.

Jones is playing with some unfamiliar faces today, but he will still be looking to shine. With his first touch of the ball he shows off his remarkable talent, whizzing past two defenders before passing to a team-mate. He receives the ball back almost instantly,
and hits a belter of a shot to score the first goal. 1–0 to the blues!

The Manor Primary pupil gave him a menacing look, and Roddy hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid.

Jones's team win the ball back straight from the kickoff, and Jones himself is just getting it under control when an opponent comes steaming in on him. That's a bad foul! The referee goes straight to his pocket and brandishes a red card. One team will be a man down for the rest of this game. Not what you want to see in a friendly match
.

“Are you all right?” Peter asked, as he gave Roddy a hand up.

“I'll live,” replied Roddy. “That kid's an idiot. My school beat his in the final of a tournament last week.”

“Well, there's no place for grudges on the pitch. Mr Jenkins will soon sort him out.”

There's a severe earbashing being handed out by the coach. The referee blows to restart the game. Harpendon takes the free kick, and the wayward pass has left a loose ball. Jones puts his head down and tries to make amends. He's going like a steam train to get to it first! His level of commitment is fantas— Now that's a real pity. I don't think there was any malice in it, but it's a clear foul
.

Roddy felt an impact on his elbow and turned around to see a slightly built, brownhaired girl lying on the ground clutching her face. Peter blew his whistle to stop the game, and gave the other team a free kick.

“Don't
you
start fouling now,” he told Roddy. “She could have been badly hurt.”

“I'm sorry,” said Roddy, “I didn't mean—”

“I'm sure you didn't,” said Peter. “But be more careful!”

For the rest of the game, Roddy kept
himself in check, but he still tried to play with as much passion as he could. His team won three games in a row before they were eventually beaten, and then Bryn's team went on.

“Well done, mate,” said Bryn as Roddy handed over his bib. “You're playing brilliantly.”

“Thanks,” replied Roddy. “Good luck.”

The time flew past. When they eventually stopped for a break, Roddy and Bryn were starving, and very hot. Everyone lay around in the shade, chatting, and ate their packed lunches. Then, after they'd eaten, they played another couple of matches. Mr Jenkins was great at giving out advice, and Roddy could have listened to him for ever, but all too soon he and Bryn were back in the changing rooms.

“That was great, wasn't it?” said Bryn, as they packed away their boots. “I wish it could
have been for more than one day though.”

“It was brilliant,” Roddy agreed, popping the lid of his last can of drink and swallowing a large mouthful. “I'm going to work really hard on ball control through the holiday. Do you fancy coming round tomorrow?”

“You're on,” agreed Bryn. “I thought I might ask for some practice cones for my birthday. They would be better than dribbling balls round our school bags and jumpers.”

“Good idea,” said Roddy. He crumpled the empty can, and added it to the already overflowing rubbish bin. “Shall we go and have another quick chat with Peter? It'll be our last chance. Dad's going to be here soon.”

“OK,” agreed Bryn, stuffing his sweaty football socks in his bag.

They headed out of the changing rooms and saw Peter coming their way.

“All right, lads?” he said as they met.

Roddy and Bryn nodded. It was so good to be on speaking terms with a Blackburn Rovers player!

“Actually, I was looking for you,” Peter told Roddy. “Mr Jenkins wants a word.”

Roddy and Bryn looked at each other. In their experience, teachers only wanted to see you when you were in trouble. Roddy wondered if it was about the girl he'd knocked over. He hadn't meant to barge into her, but maybe Mr Jenkins hadn't seen it that way. He'd certainly given the Manor Primary boy a good talking-to. The last thing Roddy wanted was a telling off to sour his enjoyable day, but it looked as if he was about to get one.

Bryn slapped him sympathetically on the back. “See you in a minute,” he said.

Roddy followed Peter back into the building. The older boy tapped on the nearest door and pushed it open. Mr Jenkins was in
there, talking to the helpers.

Roddy wondered if it would be better to try to defend himself, or simply accept the telling off. He hated to think that the coach might consider him to be a troublemaker.

“Ah! The boy with the Wales strip,” said Mr Jenkins, as Roddy entered the room. “Roddy Jones, isn't it?”