On the Spot (6 page)

Roddy got himself a cup of water from the machine feeling extremely satisfied with their performance. And Marek seemed happy, too. As far as Roddy could see, Marek got as much pleasure from goalkeeping as being a striker. And if he could only stop worrying about what his family thought, he'd probably enjoy it even more.

The sad thing was, Marek had been out on the pitch for the last two days, doing extra scoring practice, trying to improve his accuracy, and making up for all the time he was spending training as a goalie. But the extra practice didn't seem to be doing him any good. In fact, his performance as a striker was getting worse. Roddy wondered if Mr Jenkins had noticed. He probably had. The junior coach never missed things like that. With the Leeds match coming up in a week and a half, he'd be announcing the team any day now. Even though he was desperate to know, it made Roddy nervous simply thinking about it. But for Marek it must be much worse. He desperately needed to raise his game if he wanted to be included in the starting line-up. And knowing that his cousin was coming to watch would be adding to his stress.

However, at that moment, Marek was giving Ashanti an animated, blow-by-blow account of his saves. Roddy smiled to himself. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that Marek's preferred position involved
scoring
goals.

The following Wednesday, a week before the game against Leeds, Mr Jenkins called the first years together after their morning training session.

“The whole team's still not set in stone,” he said. “I haven't settled on my subs yet, but these are the names I want to see in the starting line-up. Dij Anichebe, Jimmy Piper, George McInnes, David Peters, Toby Harris, Roddy Jones, Keira Sanders, Ali Patel, Matt Barker, Geno Perotti, Eric Bullard.”

Roddy heaved a sigh of relief. Lately he'd been quietly confident of getting in, though there had always been enough doubt to keep him anxious. But poor Marek! He glanced
around for his roommate, to give him a sympathetic look, but Marek was standing some distance away, his face and body as still as a rock.

“I have a list of possibles for the bench,” went on Mr Jenkins. “But I want you to have a few more days to prove your worth. So all's not lost. I'll announce the subs on Monday. Meanwhile, there'll be a first-squad practice tomorrow afternoon. I want to see you playing together more as a team. Roddy and Keira have the right idea. Unselfishness and co-operation. That's what I want from all of you.”

As soon as Mr Jenkins dismissed them, Marek headed off towards the changing rooms. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk. By the time the rest of the boys arrived, Marek was already dressed and ready to leave. But if he'd hoped to escape without
any comment, he was disappointed.

“It's not surprising old Jenkins left you out of the team,” Jack sneered. “You can't shoot and you can't keep goals out, either. That was an easy save you missed during your last house match! In fact, I don't know what you're doing at this school at all. You're useless all round.”

“That's not true, and you know it. Besides,
you
didn't make the starting line-up, either,” Roddy pointed out.

Jack flinched. The jibe had obviously hit him hard. But he soon recovered and laughed unpleasantly. “And now you have to get your little friends to stand up for you, too,” he snarled. Then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered off.

Roddy was fuming. Marek gave no hint as to what he was feeling, but he threw on his jacket in a hurry and left for the next lesson.

“I keep thinking that Jack can't be
all
bad, and then he goes and spoils everything,” Geno muttered. “How could he
say
something like that? What's Marek ever done to him?”

“Nothing,” Roddy replied. “I think he's just jealous because we're such good friends. He hardly has any mates at all.”

“It's not surprising, is it?” said Jimmy. “And the people he shares with don't help, either.”

“I think Brett and Andy just go along with him to make life easier for themselves,” said Roddy. “I didn't used to think so, but when you get them on their own they're all right.”

“What are we going to do about Marek?” asked Geno, changing the subject. “He must be really upset about not making the team.”

“Let's try to talk to him at lunch,” said Roddy, and with that he hurried outside,
almost bumping straight into Mr Jenkins.

The coach was talking earnestly to Marek, so Roddy hung around, a few paces away, waiting for them to finish their conversation. He was intrigued to find out what Mr Jenkins was saying this time.

“And I really mean it,” Mr Jenkins concluded. “As soon as you relax, the accuracy will come back. You've lost belief in yourself. That's the trouble.” Then he patted Marek on his shoulder and hurried away.

Roddy joined Marek, and they walked towards the main house together. For a few moments, neither said anything. Then Marek spoke. “He told me to stop the extra practice,” he said miserably.

“Why?” said Roddy, not wanting to admit that he'd overheard anything.

“He says I've overdone it,” said Marek.

“Well, maybe he's right,” said Roddy.

There was another pause.

Marek's mouth twisted as he struggled with his feelings. “He keeps telling me I ought to concentrate on goalkeeping for a while because, he says, I enjoy it. And he says I have a natural talent for it.” Marek stopped walking and turned to look at his friend. “But I'm really scared that he's going to drop me as a striker altogether, and try to get me to be a full-time goalie!”

Roddy sighed. “That wouldn't be so terrible, would it? Maybe that's what you're really cut out for. We're short of good goalies,” he added in a rush. “Especially while Tom Larsson is unfit. But there are loads of people who want to play up front.”

“That's because it's where the glory is,” said Marek. “And anyway.” He looked torn. “How can I change my mind? I've never mentioned goalkeeping to my family.”

“It's not against the law to change your mind,” said Roddy.

Marek hunched his shoulders and started walking again. “It is in my family,” he muttered.

Roddy could hear other people beginning to catch them up. “Listen, Marek,” he started, but Marek interrupted him.

“If Mr Jenkins tries to make me change my position for good,” he said fiercely. “I'll leave like Marcel did. I will,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself. “I'll leave and take up … basketball!”

For the next two training sessions, Marek wasn't allowed to practise shooting. Instead, Mr Jenkins sent him off to train with the goalies for the whole time. No one said anything to Marek about it. In fact, Marek wasn't encouraging conversation about
anything. Mr Jenkins seemed to be adding insult to injury by not letting him continue practising his shots. After all, there were still the subs to be announced. If Marek could raise his game, he might still get a place on the bench. But his face was shuttered, and no one knew how to open the subject.

Only Jack, as usual, tried to make things difficult, but Roddy was determined to put a stop to that. When he saw the bully coming out of the main building alone the following afternoon, he seized the opportunity and lost no time in letting Jack know how angry he was. “You just lay off Marek,” he said. “You only do it because you hate seeing us all looking out for each other, Billy No-mates.”

“I've got more mates than you,” whined Jack, but he didn't sound very convinced.

“Brett and Andy would far rather share with anyone other than you, and you know
it,” Roddy said. “And it's obvious Marcel left partly because you made life so difficult for him. So why don't you do yourself a favour?”

“And what?” Jack's words were aggressive, but Roddy saw that the bully looked a bit shaken.

“Just try to get on with people,” Roddy told him awkwardly. “Be nice for a change.”

For a moment, Jack looked as if he might be taking in Roddy's advice. Then he sniffed, and curled his lip. “Being nice never got me anywhere,” he snarled.

Roddy gave up and let him go, then continued on his way with a sigh. He knew that Jack must be feeling terrible about not making the starting line-up. Maybe once the subs were announced he'd become a bit more bearable. But what if he didn't make it? Could he get any worse?

The match against Banks on Saturday was a strange one. Neither side had their minds fully on the game in hand. Despite Sam's touchline guidance, Charlton failed to score for the first time ever, and slid to a 0–0 draw. Even Keira had to admit that she was concentrating more on the Leeds game. Their first big match was now tantalisingly close.

It was a very nervy practice that Monday, as everyone knew that the subs were going to be announced. After the usual run, Mr Jenkins had them in balanced groups playing five-a-side games. He spent the rest of the time going round each group, watching them closely. It was all right for the students
who'd already been selected. Their places were safe, unless they were unlucky enough to pick up an injury, but Roddy could imagine what it was like for everyone else. It must be nerve-wracking knowing this was their last chance to impress.

At the end, everyone gathered round Mr Jenkins without waiting to be called. The team members were just as excited as everyone else to find out who was going to be on the bench, ready to play at a moment's notice.

“OK then,” said Mr Jenkins, flipping over the pages of the notebook he always carried with him. “Jack Carr, Polly Ratcliffe, Ashanti Nagel, John Finnigan. I want you all on the bench. Marek, can I have a word please?”

Marek and Mr Jenkins went off to one side, and the coach put his hand on Marek's shoulder.

Roddy looked at Geno. “Why's he talking to Marek alone?” he asked. “It's not like he's the only one who's missed out.”

“Haven't a clue,” said Geno.

Whatever Mr Jenkins wanted to say to Marek was soon done, because the next minute he was back with the group again.

“OK, tomorrow in training we'll have the first team taking on all comers,” he said. “The rest of the year will be split into three sides, and you'll take turns against them. That'll let me get a good look at the team as a whole.” Then he pushed his notebook into his jacket pocket and disappeared in the direction of the main building.

Several people gave Marek questioning glances, but no one said anything. It wasn't until much later, when the four boys were back in their room, that he volunteered any information at all.

“I don't know what to do,” he said.

“About what?” asked Roddy.

“Mr Jenkins.”

Roddy waited impatiently.

“He's said I can be on the bench for the match against Leeds, but only if I'm a sub for the goalkeeper. With Tom still out and the Stiles goalie off form, there's only really Dij to put in goal. Mr Jenkins said he'd do his best to give me the second half as keeper, if we're winning.”

“So
that's
why he took you off to one side,” said Roddy. “We thought he was just commiserating with you.”

“No,” said Marek. “He wants me to be in the squad, but as a substitute goalie.”

“So there's no chance of being subbed on as a striker?” said Jimmy.

“He's got enough people up front,” said Roddy. “There's Geno and Eric Bullard, and
John as a sub, and Keira and me, I suppose. He's right. Our real weakness is in defence. We need you as a goalie, Marek.”

“But if I say yes, I'm turning my back on scoring goals for ever,” said Marek despondently. “I just know it.”

“Well,” said Roddy, determined to be positive. “How does that make you feel … if you take your family out of the equation,” he added hastily.

“Yes,” Geno said. “Forget them for the moment. Which position do you enjoy playing in most?”

Marek folded his arms. “Well, you can't beat scoring,” he told them. “You know what it's like, Geno, and you, too, Roddy. It's such a thrill to get the ball in the net. Everyone cheers, and you feel so great… It's fantastic.” He lifted up the Polish flag from where it lay on his bed, and stared at it. “I wanted to
score goals for my country,” he said. “But maybe Zurawski was wrong. Maybe you
can't
always do what you want, however hard you try.” He dropped the flag, and smoothed it out over the bed again. “I do enjoy keeping,” he admitted. “I know I've tried not to, but … more importantly, I want us to have the best possible chance of beating Leeds. I never thought I'd say it, but maybe my future doesn't lie in being a striker after all.

“I don't know what I'm going to say to my cousin when he turns up for the match,” he said heavily. “I know he'll be doubly shocked. First that I'm on the bench, and about my change of position, too. But … I think I have to go for it, don't I?”