The man with a notebook looked up, when I arrived with the key in my hand.

“Hello, love, have you seen Mark Hurst? We’d like to talk to him.”

Football Girl

By Susan Brown

Chapter 7

Previously...

It was nearly 7 o’clock by the time I reached home, having said goodbye to Claire at the bus stop. She was going one way and I was going the other. We promised to talk tomorrow and as we left each other, I smiled. It looked like I had a new best friend, like!

As I walked up to the cafe, I saw two people standing outside my front door. I had a funny feeling in my tummy and as I walked up they turned to me. One had a camera in his hand, the other a notebook.

The man with a notebook looked up, when I arrived with the key in my hand.

“Hello, love, have you seen Mark Hurst? We’d like to talk to him.”

And now the story continues.

1

“Who?”

“Mark Hurst, he lives here.”

“No he doesn’t, my mum’s just rented it like from the landlord.”

“So he’s moved?”

“Who?”

“Mark Hurst!”

“Don’t know him, Should I? Ooh is he like, famous?”

The photographer mumbled something under his breath; I swear it sound like “daft bitch” or something not so savoury.

“Do you know where the landlord is?” Asked who I now supposed was Bob Ferris.

“Don’t know nothing like that–like.” I said in my best Claire cloned voice.

“Come on, Bob–waste of time here.”

Bob Ferris looked me up and down, making me feel like a piece of meat or something then he sort of grimaced at me. I took that to be a sort of a smile, but I wasn’t sure.

“Look, love, here is my card; if you hear anything about Mark Hurst, give me a tinkle; it’ll be worth your while,”

He handed me a slightly grubby business card and then they both went off down the road.

My hand was shaking slightly as I let myself in. I walked slowly upstairs and sat down heavily on the bed. I picked up my soft white bunny and cuddled her close to my chest. I was shaking and before I knew it, was crying my eyes out.

After what seemed quite an age, I stopped sobbing and went into the bathroom to wash my face. Seeing my reflection in the mirror, I looked far from pretty because my makeup had run and my eyes had the look of an upset panda.

I heard my mobile go off and I went into the lounge.

I picked it up and without thinking I pressed the green button and said, “Hello?”

“ Mark, this is Bob Ferr…”

I threw the ‘phone against the wall. I was shaking badly, was close to tears and didn’t know what to do…I took several deep breaths and went to where the ‘phone was lying. Picking it up, it was obvious that it was totally smashed and no use for anything.

I needed help–I knew that. I was fast going off the idea of becoming a professional footballer if this is what I was going to have to contend with.

I had an idea and went downstairs to the café. I had a key so I let myself in and crossed to the café window. I carefully peered out to see if the reporters had gone. There was no sign of them, so I went into the back room that Jeff used as an office and picked up the ‘phone. Dialling the number I knew so well, I heard it ringing at the other end.

“Hello?”

“Oh Jeff, something’s happened…”

I burst into tears again. Jeff could get no sense out of me but I vaguely remember telling him roughly what happened and that I was sitting in the café.

“Stay there; we’re coming over.”

The phone went dead and I just sat there in the dark.

2

It seemed like a long time, but couldn’t have been more than ten minutes; when I heard a car pull up outside. I stood up and peered around the doorframe.

I could see by the glow of the street lamp outside that it was Jeff and Josie with the twins in their buggy close behind him. With a rattle of the key in the lock, they entered, turned on the lights and came to where I was rooted to the spot–in the doorway to Jeff’s office.

Josie opened her arms and I ran to her. I cried some more–wetting her pretty cream coat, I noticed abstractedly. After a few minutes, I calmed down a bit and was taken upstairs to the flat. I sat down and was handed a mug of tea.

With them there I felt better and was able to give a more coherent account of what had happened.

“That was quick thinking on your part to tell Ferris that you didn’t know anything,” said Josie.

“I…I thought I was going to die when I went up to them with the keys in my hand. I should have twigged when I saw the photographer. Anyway, I said the first thing that came into my head. I’m sure that they thought I was an air head and a bit thick!”

Josie smiled but Jeff looked a bit annoyed to say the least.

“So that slime ball is still causing you problems,” said Jeff angrily. “Right, we’ll see about this.”

He pulled out his mobile and then used speed dial. I just sat there looking at the twins, fast asleep in their buggy. Josie was sitting next to me on the sofa, holding my hand. It was lovely to have their support and I was so glad that they were there.

I looked up as Jeff started speaking.

“Hello John? Sorry to call you at this late hour, but Mark’s being pestered by that Bob Ferris…”

In just a few words, he explained the situation to John Prentiss, missing out the bit where I was dressed as a girl and tricking Ferris earlier.

He terminated the call and put the phone back in his pocket.

“Right, Susan; John was really annoyed about this and says he’ll speak to us about it tomorrow. You are still a minor and the press and anyone else for that matter can’t treat you like this. He knows Ferris’s editor quite well–they play golf together–and he is going to ring him now. He says that you won’t get pestered again and if you do, he’ll get the law involved.”

I felt a huge sense of relief and I just ran over to him and gave him a hug.

“Oh thanks, Daddy, you’re the best.” After a moment, I realised what I called him; I stepped back a bit, looked at him and murmured, “Sorry.”

His eyes looked a bit moist. I hoped that I hadn’t upset him.

“Sorry, for what?” he asked with a slight smile playing on his lips.

“I…I…I called you Daddy.”

“I don’t mind that, you silly thing. I consider you to be as good as a daughter anyway, so does Josie. Mind you, I’m only twelve years older than you so I must have been a very young Daddy!”

I looked at Josie. She was smiling and had tears running down her cheeks for some reason.

“Have I upset you, too?”

“‘Course not. If you want to call us Mummy and Daddy, we don’t mind. We love you so much.”

I found myself in the middle of a group hug and it was lovely! They didn’t take the place of my mum, she would always be that, but I felt happier then than I had been for such a long time.

“Look,” said Josie, “Why don’t you come home with us tonight. You can sleep on the sofa or something.”

I was tempted, but my mum often called me a stubborn sod and I must admit that I don’t like to give in. “No. Thanks anyway, but I’m sure I’ll be okay. I can’t see Ferris coming back tonight and anyway, I just won’t answer the door.”

Jeff and Josie had one of those unspoken, eyebrow lifting conversations that they sometimes have. I don’t think it was telepathy.

“Look,” said Jeff, “we are not leaving you alone here tonight and that’s flat. I’ll stay the night on the sofa and we’ll see what John has been able to sort out in the morning. There are spare pillows in the cupboard from when I stayed over whilst decorating a few times, so I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, secretly somewhat relieved at not being left alone tonight.

“Very. Now, Josie, are you all right driving home?”

“Yes, dear, don’t fuss. Now, Susan, we’re going to have a girlie chat very soon about what girls should and shouldn’t do. You’re a girl now and you need to know what girls should be careful about.”

“Yes, Mummy.” I said meekly.

“And don’t you ‘yes, Mummy’ and bat your eyelashes at me, young lady, I’m immune. You might be able to wrap Jeff around your little finger, but I’m made of sterner stuff.”

She was smiling while she said it so I don’t think that she was being too serious! They smiled at each other and we all had a goodbye hug. The twins, who could probably sleep through any amount of noise up to and including a full-scale war, didn’t stir as Jeff helped Josie downstairs with the buggy.

Soon he was back and made up a bed on the sofa while I made us a milky cocoa.

We sat sipping our drinks and talking about nothing in particular. I was soon yawning and bade goodnight to my new ‘Daddy’.

“Night, love; try to get some sleep, it’s a big day tomorrow what with the signing and everything.”

My heart did a bit of a flip at that. I had almost forgotten about tomorrow; what with the reporter thingy and all that had happened today.

As I slipped under the sheets, bunny firmly in my arms, I wondered how I was going to cope with fame and whether all of the worries and lack of privacy that almost inevitably came with it was worth it.

3

Somehow, I managed to get a good night’s sleep and I woke up to Jeff tapping me gently on the shoulder and as I struggled to wake up, he gave me a hot cup of coffee.

“Come on, sleepyhead; it’s a big day today. Don’t forget to dress smartly–and I don’t mean Susan smart; you have to be Mark today.”

Jeff’s words had the effect of awakening me rather quickly and about an hour later, we were on our way. I was wearing my grey school trousers, a blue check shirt and a darker blue tie that had been given to me by my mum on my last birthday. I also wore my Melchester fleecy jacket because I thought that it was appropriate and it was also quite cold out.
I don’t like male clothing much for obvious reasons and wearing a shirt done up at the neck and being throttled by a tie was not my idea of fun. This was Jeff’s idea of my being smart. Having him as a daddy had its drawbacks and I decided that I should read the small print. As we drove along, Jeff had the radio on. It was Radio 2–that’s for oldies–I wanted Radio 1 but Jeff wouldn’t have it.

The news was the usual stuff, all doom and gloom. My ears pricked up when I heard Melchester mentioned. It turned out that Dave Buller, one of our central defenders had stubbed his toe getting out of the bath and was not available for tomorrows home game against Teddenham. It would have been funny were it not for the fact that we were so short of fit players at the moment. I smiled as I thought of the ‘we’; I felt part of the club now. Okay, I had always been a fan and loved it when we won and got miserable when we lost, but now, I was a part of the club, all be it a very small and insignificant part.

We were soon in the town centre and through the other side. Melchester’s ground was only three years old and took the place of the old one that had been off Carters Street for almost a hundred years. The old ground was small and not really suited to the modern game. I remember as a kid how run down it was and the smell in the loos–Eewww! It defied description.

I could see the tall stadium in the distance, it was nearly three times the size of the old ground and was very impressive with its three levels and state-of-the-art design. As there was no game today, we were able to park quite near the entrance and we were soon going through the impressive marble entranceway that led into the reception area. On the walls there were pictures of the great players and managers of the club, past and present. In the middle was a large bronze statue of Phil Best, the legendary player of the sixties who was now the media director of the club. I hoped that I would meet him one day as he was one of the greatest players of his generation.

We walked up to the long and impressive highly polished wooden counter that lined the whole of one wall. There were several people behind it; at one end there was a brass plaque that said ‘ENQUIRIES’ and we went over to it. I was still rubber-necking all the pictures on the walls and wasn’t really paying attention to what Jeff was saying. Was it my imagination, but were all those men in the pictures looking at me, á  la Harry Potter? Then I got a dig in the ribs.

“Mark, pay attention, mate!”

“Sorry, Daddy…Dad, erm, Jeff, what were you saying?”

I looked around and my eyes focused on the girl behind the counter. She was very pretty, with blonde hair, a lovely smile and was wearing a white blouse with the Melchers crest on the left breast pocket.

“Hello, Mark?”

“Hello,” I replied shyly.

“Okay, if you would wait over there in the reception lounge, someone will see you shortly.”

We went to the area to which she had pointed sat down on a couple of the leather seats. As we sat there, I noticed how busy, the place was. Lots of people were milling about and going up to the counter and I wondered if it was always like this. I kept looking out for some of my heroes, but I didn’t see anyone that I recognised.

A few minutes later, somebody came over–a lady wearing the same uniform as the girl behind the counter, but she was dark haired and a bit shorter. We both stood up as she approached us.

“Hello, Mark and Jeff; would you like to come this way?” She gave us a sunny smile, and then led us to some lifts; one opened just as we got there. We got in, and went up six floors. The door slid open and we went out into the carpeted hallway.

The corridors were lined with a lot of new-looking polished wood doors. We were taken to the end and then we turned left, passing even more doors to the left and right of us. At the end of the corridor the lady pushed opened the door and ushered us in. As we entered, a woman behind a desk looked up and smiled. She stood up and walked over to us.

“Hi, nice to see you both, Mr McPherson will see you now; please follow me.”

We followed her to another door; she knocked and opened it. Waving us through, we found ourselves in a much larger office, which had a panoramic window overlooking the pitch. Seated behind a huge desk was Sandy Macpherson, who stood up as we approached.

“Mark, Jeff, welcome; I’m glad you are able to make it at such short notice. Take a seat, please.”

We sat down opposite the desk and he resumed his seat.

“Right, Mark; as you know you’re here to sign your contract. We have a tradition here, that we sign the contracts in public, and so in a minute we will go down to the Media Centre and get you to sign your contract. Don’t worry, laddie, it won’t take long, and then I’ll get the personnel people to take you up to their office and get the paperwork done. Just a few words in private before we go downstairs; you are joining one of the best clubs in the country, if not the world. We have a reputation here being a good, solid, honest club. I know that you will do well here, and I have seen that you are a great prospect for the future. We have a great squad of players here and we like to look after them. If you have any worries, my door is always open; unless it’s closed, that is!” He was smiling at that, and so were we. Sandy’s wit was legendary, and I could see why all the players loved him and were so loyal.

“Okay, I haven’t much time today, what with all the injuries I have to contend with, so we’d better get this over with. Would you like to come with me and I’ll lead the way.”

We followed him out of his office and along the corridor, down a flight stairs and through some swing doors. My heart was thumping now as I realised that I would soon be a Melchester player. I didn’t expect to see anybody in the media centre, as I was a nobody and just a reserve player. It surprised me to see that there were at least 10 people sitting on some seats facing that famous desk, where all the great players signed for the club. Jeff stood at the side as I followed Sandy to the desk and sat down next to him.

I blinked slightly as a number of flashes went off. I felt myself go pale as I saw the photographer, who had been with Bob Ferris yesterday, taking photographs of me. I wondered if he recognised me and if he did, whether he would expose me. I was jerked out of my thoughts as Sandy began speaking.

“Right, gentleman, it’s nice to see you all here as I welcome Mark to our club. I know one or two of you have seen this lad play and know that he is something special. His skills on and off the ball are amazing and he will be a great asset to the club. Okay, Mark, here is a pen, would you like to sign the contract now?”

I looked down at the paper in front of me and just signed next to the pencilled cross using a fountain pen–I had never used one of these before, so it was a bit strange.

I signed to the accompaniment of flashes and the noise of cameras.

After signing, I put the pen down and looked up and noticed that John Prentiss was standing at the back of the room looking pleased with himself.

“Okay,” said Sandy, “we have time for a few questions–Alan, you first…”

A man at the front looked at me.

“Mark, how does it feel to be part of the club?”

“Erm, great. I never dreamed that I would ever be actually involved with the club. I have supported them all my life and this is–just great!”

I couldn’t help smile and that seemed to put a smile on everyone else’s faces.

“Pete?”

“Sandy, when will he be in the first team?”

“Let’s not run before we can walk. The lad needs to play a lot of football before he is even considered for the first team and I don’t want to put pressure on his shoulders–yet!”

There was a ripple of laughter at that.

“One more question…Stan?”

“Thanks, Sandy. Mark have you any heroes at the club that you would like to play alongside?”

“They are all my heroes and I just hope that I can get good enough to play with them before they all retire or leave the club!”

There was general laughter and that was it. Sandy ushered me out of a side door with Jeff and John Prentiss following closely on our heels.

We went into another room, I think it was conference room and sat down around a large table.

“Okay,” said Mr McPherson, “It’s true what I said in there, I don’t have much time, so just a quick word, Mark. I want you to know that all the staff here,–players, training staff and others–are part of the family. We all want to help where we can if you have any problems. You are still very young and you are going to be pestered by the media, trying to find out more about you and also to get an inside track on everything that happens in the club. There is a clause in your contract that says that you must not divulge anything about the club without our permission and I would ask you to honour that. Anyway, enough of that nonsense; once again welcome to the club. I’ll get Sarah from HR to pop down to see you. It will save you some time.”

He stood up and shook my hand and after a quick handshake with Jeff and John, he was gone.

Jeff and John poured over the contract while I drank a coke from a handy vending machine. My brain had gone into overload and I don’t think that I could take much more in.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door and a woman walked in.

“Hello, I’m Sarah McIntosh from HR. Mark, hi there; we need to go through a few things…”

John looked at Jeff.

“Jeff, we can leave all this to Mark and Sarah, do you want to have a look around?”

“Will you be okay, Mark?”

I nodded. With that they left me to chat to Sarah.

“Right, Mark; I know how heavy all this can be so I’ll keep it short and sweet. All I’m going to say is in the welcome pack which I’ll give you before I go. Here is your pass for the stadium and training ground. Show this every time, or you won’t get in. Even the senior players and the management have to have these so please don’t lose it. If you do, let me know immediately. One prat of a player left his in a taxi and it was on sale on eBay three days later; enough said on that one. Unless you’re injured, playing in a reserve or other game or have a good excuse, you are expected to come to every home game and sit behind the dugout. There are good reasons for this, the main one being that you get to be part of the team and being part of the team makes you more involved–even if you’re not playing. You’re expected to wear the corporate clothes at games, like the trackies or on special days like cup finals the club suit. Everything you need will be sent to you by courier and should arrive at your home tomorrow in time for the game.”

“Do I come here tomorrow then?”

“Yes, just come to reception about an hour from kick-off and we’ll sort you out. Just wear the stuff we provide for you. Between you and me, one of the main reasons why we insist on the clothing is because it’s all sponsored and the sponsors love to have their name plastered all over the place including all the players and most of the backroom staff. Is all that fairly clear?”

I just nodded.

“God, you are so young and pretty…I mean handsome…sorry about that, as you get older, even policemen look young.”

“You’re not old!”

‘I love you already, you flatterer. If I was 15 years younger…ah well never mind. Right, back to business; because of your age, you have an additional pass for your father, so he can come with you and help keep you out of trouble; is that okay?”

“Yes, Jeff, I mean Dad will like that.”

“Good, well here’s your information pack, the clothes and stuff will be with you by nine tomorrow morning. If you have any problems just go to reception and ask for me. This place is so bloody big, you’ll get lost without directions; any questions?”

“Are the reserves playing tomorrow?”

‘Yes, but they have already left for New Heston, up north, so they will stay in a hotel and then come home tomorrow night. It was too much hassle to send you after them, so the powers that be decided that it wouldn’t do you any harm to stay down here and get used to the atmosphere of a big match. Right, I’ll let you go and I think that we should find your dad and John Prentiss in the reception area…”

As Jeff drove me home, he was enthusing about his tour of the stadium and trophy room. When I told him about his pass, I could see he was well pleased! He dropped me off and promised see me tomorrow. The café would be open in the morning, when all the teams were playing in the fields opposite and then he would shut up a bit early so that we could get to the ground in good time. Luckily, after twelve it got very quiet in the café, so he wouldn’t lose much–if any money, by doing this.

I let myself into the flat and quickly went back into girlie mode by stripping of the hated boys clothes and changing into a denim skirt and pink cotton blouse. A quick slap on of war paint and a brush through my hair and I was Wonder Woman again…well Wonder Susan, anyway!

I fired up the laptop and saw that I had an email from, like Claire.

It said:

‘Hi Susan, how did it go; are you famous, can I get your autograph?

‘Seriously, I hope that it went okay. Would you like to go to the flicks tonight or are you too knackered? There’s a chick flick on at the Playhouse and it’s supposed to be a scream. It’s on at seven so we need to be down there by half six. My mum will take us and pick us up. She has this weird thing about young girls and public transport at night. She gave me a right earful after she found out that we used the bus last night! Anyway if you can come, just reply to the email or text me.

‘By-ee!

Claire.’

I was a bit tired, but thought that it would be good to go out and forget about real life for a change, so I replied to the email saying yes I would go and then I texted Josie from my computer, just to let her know what my movements would be…she could could be a bit of a worrier and after all that had happened I thought that it would be good to let her know.
I had just finished applying my lippy when I heard the door bell: it was a couple of minutes past six. I looked out of the window cautiously and saw Claire down below, so I picked up my shoulder bag, checked in the mirror for stray hairs, put on my coat and skipped downstairs. I left the lights on, because I was still in my insecure mode and anyway, who wants to come home to a darkened flat?

“Hi, Claire.” I chirped as we hugged and then got into her mum’s car.
“Thanks for taking us, Mrs Creasey.” I said to Claire’s mum as we drove off.

“That’s all right, love,” she replied, “Why aren’t you so polite, Claire?”

“Oh like, Muuuuum, don’t embarrass me in front of friends!”

“That’s a mum’s job.”

Claire and I exchanged glances and her eyes went up. We had a giggle and soon we were talking about clothes and boys. I was a bit uncomfortable with that as I didn’t know which way I leaned yet, but I think I gave a good account of myself.

Soon we were at the cinema and as we said goodbye to Mrs Creasy, we confirmed that the film finished at 10 o’clock and we promised to wait in the foyer and not talk to any strange men.

We got some coke and popcorn and I nearly fainted when I saw the prices. What a rip-off!

The film was Mamma Mia! and it was great because everyone started singing–even me! After the film we waited in the foyer for Mrs Creasy and a couple of spotty teenagers came over and tried to chat us up. They loved themselves and obviously thought that they were the bee’s knees and sex on legs. Claire and I looked at each other, I grabbed her hand and looked lovingly into her eyes and then turned to the boys.

“We don’t like men and you are not even that!”

They looked at us as if we had some sort of disease and then slunked or is that slinked? or even slank away? leaving us in tears of laughter.

It was funny, I was quiet when I was in boy mode and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself unless I was on a football pitch, of course. But as Susan, I was more outgoing and I suppose happy and maybe fun to be with?

We saw Claire’s mum come into the foyer, and still giggling, we went over to her. She smiled as she saw us.

“Good film?”

“Yes,” answered Claire,” It was like, great!”

It being rather late, Claire’s mum didn’t hang around after dropping me off. I said goodbye and promised to email Claire tomorrow and after ensuring that I had let myself into the flat without being accosted by anyone, Mrs Creasey left, with Claire waving to me as they sped off.

It took a few minutes to remove my makeup, get undressed and into my long silky nightie, make some cocoa to help me sleep and snuggle up with my rabbit in my nice comfy bed. I read my girlie magazine as I sipped my hot drink and soon found myself dozing off. I finished my drink, turned the light and was soon in the land of nod.

4

By some sort of miracle, I woke up early the next morning. I didn’t fancy a run as I was still tired from yesterday. I had forgotten to take my iron pills so I tied a mental knot in my head to try and remember to take a double dose with my cornflakes. It was strange not to wake up to the sound of that flaming frog and I realised that I would have to get myself a new phone. I also remembered that I had made a bit of a dent in the wall where the phone had hit. I would have to tell Jeff about that, apologise and pay for the damage.

I got up, slipped off my nightie, had a quick shower, put on my pink dressing gown and then sat down to eat breakfast. I had plenty of time for once so I didn’t have to clock-watch too much.

I took my pills, washing them down with some orange juice, and then I turned on the radio.

After the gloomy news, the sports section was quite interesting. Paul Davis was the so called expert on football and he was banging out his usual drivel.

“It seems that Melchester are going to get a hammering today, they are at home to their arch rivals, Teddenham and their squad, already depleted by a number of injuries and the flu that is going around are also without their ace midfielder Lugia, who has had to go home for personal reasons. Teddenham, who are third in the table, will go to Melchester on the back of three straight away wins. Melchester have had an indifferent season due to injuries and they have little hopes of challenging for the title or the cups this year…”

I switched off the radio as I didn’t want to hear any more of that drivel. Looking at the time, I realised that I needed to get dressed as I expected the courier to arrive soon ad I didn’t really want to go to answer the door wearing a pink dressing gown!

I had only just finished putting some socks on when the door bell rang. Looking out of the window, I saw a yellow van–it was the courier.

As soon as I was downstairs, I opened the door.

“Hello, mate, here’s yer parcel.”

I signed the sheet, took the bulky package and said, “thanks.” Closing the door, I went upstairs and put the parcel on the bed.

There was an envelope on the top of the parcel and I opened that first.

It was a list of all the items inside There were 2 track suits, 4 pairs of shorts, 3 pairs of trainers, football boots and various other bits and pieces. I wondered how they knew my sizes but I assumed they got the measurements when I had the medical. There was also a note to tell me to wear the tracksuit, t-shirt, socks and trainers provided.

I tore open the parcel sorted the stuff out that I was to wear today. I dressed quickly and looked at myself in the mirror. I had seen girls on match days wearing similar stuff, so I had no qualms wearing the kit. I fleetingly wondered what it would be like to play football with big breasts–well bigger than mine anyway–as I had no wish to be a Dolly Parton clone. I looked at the clock. Jeff would want to be leaving soon!

I made the bed, tidied up a bit and then washed up the breakfast things. I then picked up my keys and wallet and went downstairs to the café.

There were only a few people eating late breakfasts in there and after saying, “Hi,” to Jeff, I cleared the tables and did a bit of washing up. The last stragglers left and Jeff closed up the shop.

We sat down and had a cuppa. Jeff was looking me over.

“Su…Mark, you might want to give your face a bit of a wash, there’s some mascara still on your lashes.”

“Oh!” I cried as I rushed into the toilet and saw that I hadn’t been very good at taking my makeup off last night!

I scrubbed my face until it was pink and, after another inspection, I was pronounced okay to go out into the world by my daddy.

As we drove to the ground, Jeff filled me in on a few things.

“That Bob Ferris won’t trouble you anymore. John Prentiss has had a word with his boss and has pulled the story.”

“That’s great!” I exclaimed.

“So today we can enjoy watching the game in peace.”

As we drove along, I kept on humming Mamma! Mia to myself. I couldn’t get that tune out of my head.

Long before we reached the ground my excitement levels were going through the roof. I was going to sit behind the dugout and I might actually talk to some of the players. Jeff had a sticker in the corner of the windscreen giving the car access to the staff car park. No more trying to find a parking space. I felt quite important as we were waved through by the burly security guard. We were quite early, so the car park was only a quarter full. We parked and made our way to reception. The same lady that was there yesterday greeted us and we were shown into a sort of private reception area. There were only a few people about, sitting in lounge chairs and drinking coffee and stuff. I didn’t fancy that so when someone came over and asked what I wanted to drink, I just had a coke and Jeff had a coffee.

The reception room overlooked the pitch where some of the players were warming up and stretching. The ground had begun to fill and I could see that soon it would be full of cheering, chanting fans. The grass looked very green and was in a very good condition considering we were half way through the season. I wondered if I would ever play on that pitch. Maybe in a year or two, but for now I was just going to enjoy ‘now’.

About half an hour before the match started, we made our way down to the seats. We got lost a few times as I had not been to this part of the stadium before. We were wearing our passes around our necks on thin chains and it was nice to see how many people said, ‘hello and welcome to the club.’ It was true what people said; this was a friendly club. A man wearing a jacket with the Melchester badge showed us where to sit and in a few seconds we were settling down and watching everything happening on and off the pitch. The players were finishing off their warm ups and were heading back down the tunnel. A couple who I had played with in the training matches noticed me and smiled. One player Walter Indongo, a midfielder didn’t look too happy as he was limping slightly and the physio, John Smart, was walking beside him looking a bit anxious. I hoped it wasn’t yet another injury!

The ground was filling up rapidly and it looked like it was going to be a sell-out. The chanting had started over to the left where the hard core of our singers were and then there was a counter chant, much smaller to my right where the Teddenham fans were.

Although this was a relatively new stadium, it had loads of atmosphere and it was already getting very noisy.

I was pointing out to Jeff where the media centre was and the camera positions, when a man came over to us. He was wearing a Melchester jacket and looked a bit worried.

“Mark Hurst?”

I nodded.

“Can you come with me, you are wanted.”

“Can my dad come?” I asked.

“I haven’t been told about that. If we need him we’ll send a message.”

I looked at Jeff.

“Will you be okay?”

“Yes, fine, just come and get me if you want me. Perhaps you’re going to be introduced to the players?”

The man didn’t seem to know anything and was obviously just the messenger.

“That would be great!” I replied enthusiastically.

I followed the man and soon found myself in a small room near where the changing rooms were. He asked me to wait and I sat down on one of the plastic seats.

Looking up at the sound of the door opening, I stood as I saw Mr McPherson enter.

“Sit ye down, laddie, we need to talk.”

Mystified, I sat down as he paced the room, he looked worried.

“Mark, we have an injury crisis as you know. By fluke of fate, the reserve team are playing today so I can’t use any of them. Two players have pulled out of the squad due to that damn flue and Walter Indongo has just injured himself warming up. I have contacted the league and told them of the situation that we don’t have enough players to have a full team with substitutes. They have powers in place for emergencies like this and I have been allowed to put you on the subs bench.

“But I have only just signed; am I eligible to play?”

“Yes, you signed officially yesterday, but as soon as you agreed to join us, we got your registration fast tracked. We always do that for all players. It’s easy enough to de-register if things go wrong and you don’t join us. Anyway, are you up for it; are you going to be one of the subs?”

My heart was pounding. I wasn’t expecting this. Even I knew that Mr McPherson’s request was really an order. I had signed up and I had to do as I was told, even if I wasn’t ready.

I nodded.

“Good lad, now let’s go and get you changed.”

The other players had gone out onto the pitch and the plush wood and marble changing room was empty apart from one man who was laying out a football kit over in the corner.

“Okay, Bill, I’ll leave young Mark here. Could you give him a hand while I go out and get things sorted?”

“Yes, Boss, I’ll look after him.”

With a pat on the back that would have knocked my false teeth out, if I had any, Mr McPherson left the changing room in a hurry.

“Right, son, here’s your kit. Get changed as quick as you can.”

In a bit of a daze, I took off my track suit and changed into the Melchester kit. As I did up the laces of my boots, I kept on fluffing it and in the end, Bill did it for me.

“Bit “Roy of The Rovers”, this, init?” said Bill.

“Who?” I replied distractedly.

“Before your time, I ’spect. Okay, that’s your boots. Better put your track suit back on, it can be bloody cold sitting in the dugout.”

I was on auto pilot as I finished dressing and then was led out of the dressing room, up the tunnel and into the dugout. The noise was deafening and I could see a lot of fans staring at me, wondering who the hell this young, small kid was. Was I a mascot? I could almost hear the cogs in their brains whirring. I imagined that sixty thousand people in the stadium were all looking at me, not to mention the millions who watched the match on their TVs. I saw Jeff sitting a few rows back, his jaw had dropped and he looked a bit like a fish. It must have been nerves, but I nearly giggled then, but professional footballers don’t giggle, do they?

To be continued...

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My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.