Team Spirit

Team Spirit
“Hey,” Carl grinned. He had arrived at the ground in plenty of time. The captain, Tully, was already there with a couple of the others. They were warming up, passing a ball around between them. It was great mixing with some of the cooler kids, Carl thought. They nodded back at him and quickly got on with their kick-about. At school, people often took no notice of him. He was quiet and found it difficult to make friends but the team had accepted him.
“Hey, Slim.” Jacko chortled as he gave Carl a friendly slap and ran over to join the others. Carl didn’t mind the nick-name, all the boys had them. He knew that it didn’t describe his stocky frame but he had heard much worse elsewhere. Carl shifted from one foot to the other and swung his arms about a bit. He didn’t feel confident enough to join in, but it was too cold to just stand still.
It wasn’t long before the whole team was there. Plank and Andy had got a lift with Mitch, the coach. Mitch was great. He always made practise fun. He gave out daft prizes and told the worst jokes. Mitch treated everyone in the team the same, even though each seemed to have something that they were especially good at; like Plank, fast and a great tackler, or Jacko being the best goal keeper around.
“Now then lads,” Mitch began his pre-match speech. “Why does the coach of Town Lane want a ghost to join their squad?” There was a pause as everyone waited for the punch line. “Because they need a team spirit!” A low groan escaped from Carl’s lips and was echoed around the group. “We don’t need to worry though ‘cos we’ve got loads of it. We rely on everyone doing their bit. Nobody is any more important than anyone else here – that’s what being a team means.” This made Carl stand a little bit taller, so full of pride that it forced his head up. It was the best feeling.
“Right, then, “Mitch went on, “you know what needs doing and I trust you to get on with it. Let’s have your best effort today!” The boys sprinted over to take up their positions. Carl ambled over to his usual place on the sideline. He had the important job of keeping the drinks bottles and kit bags safe. He knew he wouldn’t play, but he didn’t mind. He was important to the team. They all were.
Carl wasn’t stupid, he knew that he had no talent. In fact if he had to play, Carl would only have worried the whole time about letting them all down, about messing up and looking useless. No, he was quite happy to join in at practise but under the pressure of a real game he would much rather stand at the side.
Town Lane was a strong team and that meant a good match. There were a few dodgy tackles but the ref was fair with his decisions. Mitch made Carl laugh when he started shouting out to the players.
“Go on, son! “ Mitch yelled. “Get the ball...stay with him...go on...” Carl enjoyed watching, shouting out when he got carried away and forgot to worry about being shy. The match went on and by half time the boys were two goals up.
Carl shared out the water bottles whilst the boys huddled around Mitch.
“You did well,” Mitch was saying. “They’re going to be upset now and come back fighting. We stay cool and remember our defence. Let’s keep hold of our advantage. I know you can do it.”
The game was back on. Mitch was right about Town Lane. The second half was full of bad tackles and sloppy passes. Plank had been sent sprawling in the mud, by accident, and was starting to get mad. He had a temper and Tully had to step in to calm him down. The next time it happened, Town Lane were closer to scoring. Plank lost it completely and went for the lad from Town Lane. The ref awarded a penalty.
“Oh, no!” Mitch tutted, under his breath.
Jacko was in goal, as usual. He hadn’t seen much action in this game and was looking forward to the one on one challenge. Carl was tense, but he knew that Jacko could handle it. As the ball whizzed through the air towards the goal, Jacko dived to block it. If he had been just one second later he could have saved it, but the ball slid past his finger tips into the net. Carl saw the Town Lane team go wild, cheering and clapping each other. He snorted to himself; still one goal behind; surely they didn’t think they had any chance of actually winning.
“Good effort.” Mitch called out. “You did your best then! That’s all we can ask.” Carl knew that some other coaches would be really mad, but not Mitch. Jacko got up and brushed himself off. His head was down and his eyes looked red. He was holding his arm and his face was a rather odd shade. Something was wrong. Carl’s stomach lurched as he guessed what was coming next.
“Looks like you’re on, Carl. Do your best,” said Mitch. Before he knew what was happening Carl found himself standing in the goal.
Tully called over to Carl, “Don’t worry. We’ll just keep the ball up this end!” It sounded like a brilliant plan to Carl. He wasn’t enjoying the idea that a small mistake could cost them everything. He was in goal it was obvious to see who to blame if one got past him!
The plan didn’t work. Carl spotted the ball weaving its way towards him. He saw Plank go for the tackle and miss. He saw Tully struggling to keep up. He saw the ball getting closer and closer, faster and faster until it was just a blur. Then it was in the net and Town Lane had equalised. He had ruined everything. It was entirely his fault. He could see Tully talking to Mitch and looking at him. He had let them down. Yes, now Tully was marching over. Carl had had his chance and blown it. He felt hot and slightly sick.
“Hard luck, mate. Never mind, we’re going to try something else. Let me take over – you play up there!” Tully’s voice was urgent. “Try and keep the ball away from here. OK? I get way too nervous in goal!”
Carl agreed and half jogged further up the pitch. Whatever happened now they couldn’t concede any more goals. He would try his best, although he knew deep down that his best wasn’t very good at all.
Play started and Town Lane had taken heart from their last goal. They were more determined than ever to end the match with a win. Carl was soon out of breath. His face was hot and his heart was hammering away in his chest. He wondered how much longer the game had to go. He hoped that he could make it to the end.
Carl started to lose track of what was happening and his movements slowed down as he tired. He stopped to catch his breath and heard the shouts of his team mates. Suddenly the ball smacked against his legs. He turned and stumbled just in time to see the ball at his feet and nobody else around.
“Go for it, Carl!” He heard Mitch yelling. He glanced across the field, they were heading his way. He had to do something and it had to be now. Almost without thinking, Carl took his chance and began dribbling the ball towards the waiting goal. He could hear the noise of shouting from behind, but couldn’t make sense of it.
Suddenly, Jacko’s voice rang out over the rest. “Shoot! Shoot!” Carl was looking all around him wildly searching for someone to pass the ball to, someone who had a chance of scoring. There was nobody around. It was almost as if they had hung back on purpose.
There was no time for worrying about letting people down, there was no other choice. One last look behind and he forgot about anyone else. His legs seemed to know what to do all by themselves; all of the practises and drills took over. The ball travelled in slow motion as it sailed towards the posts. The whistle blew for time.
“GOAL!” Carl heard the shout before he realised what had happened. Everyone came running over, surrounding him and giving him enthusiastic congratulations.
“Mitch said you’d be better in amongst the action,” Tully said as he squeezed Carl’s shoulder. Mitch nodded.
“We all knew you could do it – you just needed to prove it to yourself,” he said.
Carl’s shoulders were back and his head was high. Grinning widely and eyes shining, he looked around at his friends. “I was only doing my bit,” he said.