Johnny Ball Page 4

  So now you see what I mean, right? The Tissbury Primary team was totally terrible!

  But Grandpa George didn’t see it that way. “Hmmm, well you’ve got wallops of work to do then, my boy!”

  “Me? It’s not MY fault that our striker can’t even score with an open goal!”

  “No, but you can help him to hit the hooting net, can’t you? You’re the assistant manager, miladdy! Football is all about working together, and confidence goes a luverly long way. Have I ever told you about little Lenny Lomas? No? Oh, this is a stupendous story! Lenny was our teeny-weeny star striker for years and everyone loved him. The manager, Malcolm McCleary, loved him more than his own wife and children put together! But one day, Lenny just stopped scoring, all in a jiffy. His confidence had gone up the chuffing chimney. It was like he had never seen a football in his lemonading life! Old McCleary tried everything:

  giving him a hard time,

  giving him a hug,

  buying him new boots,

  buying him new teammates

  – but NOTHING worked. It was a muddy mystery! Eventually, old McCleary turned to me and he said, ‘Jaws!’ – that was my nickname back then, don’t ask me why – ‘HELP ME!’

  “In training, Lenny was as barfstorming as ever – he could score from anywhere! It was only in matches that he froze like snot in the snow. TING! I had a mahoosive LIGHT-BULB MOMENT! I knew that little Lenny worked for an animal charity, so I told him: ‘The next time you’re about to shoot, imagine that the goal is one of those hopping horrible hunters. You want to hit that hunter really hard but the goalkeeper – he’s the luverly lion that you’re trying to save. Whatever you do, DON’T HIT HIM!’”

  “And did the plan work, Grandpa?” I asked impatiently. I needed to know how the story ended.

  “It worked a tricker treat! When the chance arrived, Lenny looked up and leathered the ball straight into the top corner. ‘Take that, Herbert!’ he roared.”

  “Who’s Herbert?”

  Grandpa George shrugged. “The hopping horrible hunter, I guess. Anyway, old McCleary jumped on me and gave me a hug for the first and only time. ‘Jaws, you beauty!’ he yellered. ‘How did you do it?’

  “When I told him, he gave a mahoosive lot of money to Save the Lions!”

  “And after that, Grandpa? Did he keep scoring?”

  “Oh yes, that was the end of the Lenny Lomas Goal Drought of 1952!”

  TING! LIGHT-BULB MOMENT! for me. I was going to help turn Alex W into the next Lenny Lomas … no, the next Johnny “The Rocket” Jeffries!

  “Thanks, Grandpa!” I said, rushing out the door.

  “My word, where are you off to in such a rabbity rush?”

  “Sorry, Grandpa, I can’t stay. I’ve got wallops of work to do!”

  Unfortunately, Alex W didn’t really like lions.

  “I prefer tigers,” he told me when I asked him at training. He didn’t even seem surprised by the question. Maybe people asked him that a lot. “Mammals aren’t really my thing, though.”

  “Interesting,” I replied, doing my best serious journalist impression. I even moved my hand towards his mouth like it was a microphone. “So, what is your thing?”

  “Kyoto Dragons, this new Japanese anime show.”

  I hadn’t even heard of it, but, of course, I nodded along like I had. It was clear that Alex W really, really loved it – way more than he loved scoring goals, that’s for sure. If it hadn’t been for Mr Mann’s whopping great whistle, he would have kept talking about it for hours.

  “All of the characters are just so awesome! My favourite is Koyo. What about you?”

  “Yeah, er, that’s my favourite too,” I agreed. Was Koyo a human or a dragon? Was it a he or a she? There was only one way to find out.

  When I got home, the TV was there waiting for me. Yes! I sunk happily into the sofa. Dad and Daniel were out at Tissbury Tigers training, and Mum? She was somewhere upstairs, so if I turned the volume right down, I—

  “Johnny Nigel Ball!” a voice called out.

  Uh-oh – not my full name! There was Mum, walking down the stairs, doing her “I’m very disappointed in you” face.

  “Come on, you know the rules,” she said firmly. “No TV until you’ve finished your homework.”

  “This IS my homework!” I argued. “My assistant manager homework!”

  I explained everything – Alex W, Grandpa George, Lenny Lomas, Kyoto Dragons – and eventually Mum held up both her hands and did her “I’ve heard enough!” face.

  “You’ve got ten minutes, OK? Then you’ve got to do your real homework. I’m timing you!”

  It’s a good thing that I’m super fast with the TV remote. Two quick clicks and the cartoon was starting. Koyo turned out to be a young boy with big, spiky hair who looked after five different-coloured dragons and sent them out on special rescue missions. It was actually a pretty cool show.

  “Right, time’s up, poppet!” Mum yelled from the kitchen.

  Already? But I didn’t yet know if Rinko (the red one) had saved Kyoto City from the professor’s evil plan!

  “If you get all your homework done, you can watch the rest before bed, OK?” Mum promised.

  DEAL! I raced through my Maths homework at record speed. I mostly hate Maths, but it turns out short division can be quite fun when there’s a TV show waiting at the end.

  “Finished!” I called out, like it was one of Miss Patel’s tricky spelling tests.

  (Spoiler alert: Rinko did save Kyoto City. Go, Rinko!) By the time the episode was over, I had what I needed: a super-clever plan to solve my own Lenny Lomas problem.

  TISSBURY PRIMARY VS SHEPHERD’S CROSS PRIMARY

  “Shepherd’s Cross? They’re, like, literally DAMP!” Daniel told me as we travelled to Tissbury Primary’s second match. Don’t worry, my big brother wasn’t coming to watch – no way! No, we both had games at the same time on the same day, and there was only one car to drive us around: Tiss.

  Tiss is named after Tiss the Tiger, the Tissbury Town mascot. He’s orange on the outside and football on the inside:

  black and white seats,

  black and white steering wheel

  and a black and white bumper sticker that says FOOTBALL FAMILY ON BOARD (just in case people hadn’t worked that out already!).

  Anyway, back to Daniel’s cool-kid description. “Damp” – did that mean Shepherd’s Cross were good or bad? It sounded bad, but it was hard to know.

  “We didn’t even have to play them because they always got knocked out in the first round,” my brother explained. “But maybe they’ve got better.”

  I really hoped they hadn’t. Tissbury had needed a puking player just to beat Lambert. How could we possibly win the second round?

  “No, we can do this,” I told myself calmly as we pulled into the car park. We had to believe in ourselves, and I had to help my team.

  “Let’s go, champ!” Mum called out a little too loudly as she opened the door for me.

  “Wait!” I called out when I saw Alex W walking onto the school field to warm up for the match. By the time I reached him, I was totally out of breath.

  “Koyo,” I gasped and he smiled straight away. It was like the secret password to unlock his bonus happy level.

  “Have you seen the latest episode yet?” Alex W asked.

  This time, I didn’t have to pretend. “The one where Rinko saved Kyoto City from the professor’s evil plan? Yeah, it was super exciting!”

  Alex W and I were BFFs now. Part one of my plan was complete, so it was time for part two. It was time for me to be Johnny Ball: Assistant Manager.

  “You know the part where Koyo had to get the flame-rocks past the evil professor and into the dragons’ den?” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, when you get the chance to shoot today, imagine that the goal is the dragons’ den and the ball is a flame-rock.”

  He looked confused, so I carried on.

  “The dragons need that fla
me-rock in order to rescue Princess Juyo, but the goalkeeper is the evil professor who’s trying to stop you. Whatever you do, YOU HAVE TO GET IT PAST HIM!”

  At first, Alex W was silent, but I could tell that he was thinking about it because he was looking up as if he was trying to see into his own brain.

  “Cool, thanks, it’s worth a try!” he said eventually.

  “GO, JOHNNY-BOO!” Mum cheered as the match kicked off. Yes, she was back and just as super embarrassing as ever. But when I put up my hand-shield, she totally disappeared. Perfect, now I could focus on the football…

  I wouldn’t call it a good first half, but it was a bit better than the last one. For a start, there was ONE whole goal! Tabs showed off her MAD SKILLZ to make it 1–0 to Tissbury.

  “THAT’S MY GIRL!” I could hear my mum shouting, even through my hand-shield.

  Blether United weren’t playing, so Mr Mann was watching properly this time. “WHAT A SCREAMER!” he boomed.

  “Yes, Tabs!” I muttered to myself, punching the air. Again, we would save our special, secret handshake for later.

  Maybe we wouldn’t need one of my football ideas after all…

  Oh yes, we would! Mr Mann had picked “Sicky” in the starting line-up after his winner against Lambert, but he looked super nervous about all that extra game time. We took him off just before he puked all over the pitch.

  “BELLY, ON YOU GO AND GET STUCK IN!”

  Izzy did get involved straight away, but not in the way that Mr Mann had hoped. As the ball came to her, she was in single-player mode again, just like against Lambert. It was as if she was playing football in her own really dark, loud tunnel and couldn’t see her teammates all around her, or hear them calling out: “PASS! PASS!”

  Instead, Izzy kept her head down and the ball stuck to her foot, but she wasn’t dribbling through the defence to score a wonder goal. No, she was going around and around in circles! Eventually, she got so dizzy that she fell over and Shepherd’s Cross ran through and equalized.

  “I was right THERE!” Billy bellowed at her. He hadn’t even bothered to try and chase back. “Why don’t you ever PASS?”

  As always, Tabia had her friend’s back. “Hey, leave her alone, BABOON-BUM! Why don’t you try doing something useful for a change?”

  By half-time, Alex W had only touched the ball twice. The first time, a HOOF! from Billy hit him in the back of the head and the second time, a goal kick from Gabby bobbled off his boot. There had been zero shots … so far.

  “Come on, Koyo!” I whispered to him as the players walked on for the second half, hoping that the secret password would work again. “Don’t forget the flame-rock!”

  As he went back out onto the pitch, Alex W walked a bit taller. He hadn’t exactly been small to start with, but now he was a giant! When the second half kicked off, he chased around the pitch like a giraffe in a jam jar.

  “WHOA, WHAT’S GOT INTO WEBBY?” Mr Mann boom-asked me.

  “No idea,” I said, smiling to myself.

  Alex W just needed a chance now. When Tabia came over to take a throw-in, I gave her the game plan.

  “Really? I’ve never seen him kick the ball properly, let alone score!”

  “Trust me.”

  “OK, OK!”

  A few minutes later, Tabia skilled her way down the left wing again and crossed to Alex W just inside the Shepherd’s Cross penalty area. This was it! I couldn’t bear to watch, but at the same time, I couldn’t stop watching.

  First touch – fine. The ball was under control.

  I tried my best to tunnel into his mind: “Get the flame-rock past the evil professor, get the flame-rock past the evil professor…”

  Second touch - WHACK!

  “GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLL!” shouted Mr Mann.

  2–1 to Tissbury!

  I could see the ball in the back of the net, but at first, I didn’t believe my eyes. Neither did Alex W. What had just happened? We both just stood there in shock as everyone else went wild. Thanks, Grandpa George, thanks, little Lenny Lomas!

  “You did it, Webby!” a much-recovered Mo shouted, jumping up on Alex W’s back.

  “Nice finish!” Billy said. “I would have scored it, obviously, but I didn’t think you would.”

  Scott came on and helped the defence stay strong for the last few minutes until the final whistle. Yes, we were through to the third round!

  And it was all thanks to Alex W (and Tabia, of course, but she’s always the star). All the players hugged and high-fived him. He was a hero now! Eventually, he managed to fight his way out of Billy’s big team bundle and find me.

  “Thanks, Johnny!” Alex W cried out, lifting me into the air. “Mr Mann, our Koyo plan worked perfectly – Johnny’s a football genius!”

  “No, it was all your work – what a strike!” I replied modestly; but he was right, of course. It was my new greatest football idea EVER.

  So far so good for Johnny Ball: Assistant Manager. Mr Mann gave me a massive pat on the back that nearly sent me flying.

  “TOP JOB, BALLY JUNIOR. LET’S KEEP UP THE WINNING WORK!”

  We were all really excited after the Shepherd’s Cross game. Well, all of us except “Dizzy Izzy”. She was still feeling bad about not passing.

  “Don’t sweat it, sister!” Mum told Izzy in her awful American accent.

  She’d hoped it might help, but it didn’t. Izzy didn’t even smile. That’s because Mum isn’t as funny as she thinks she is; she’s mainly just SUPER EMBARRASSING.

  “Mr Mann’s going to drop me from the team,” Izzy muttered miserably.

  “No, he won’t,” I said, as if Mr Mann actually listened to me. “Don’t worry!”

  I was the assistant manager and that meant it was my job to assist. I had to find a way to help Izzy, just like I’d helped Alex W. But how? What could I do to make her pass the ball? Could the Lenny Lomas plan work again?

  What if I told her the ball was a piping-hot potato that would burn her boot if she kept it for too long?

  Or what if I told her the ball was a pet guinea pig that would die if it stopped rolling?

  No, if I told Izzy that, she wouldn’t kick the ball at all! What I needed was a brand-new football idea.

  The next day, I wandered around school, waiting for one of my light-bulb moments, but that just wasn’t working.

  I wore my assistant manager’s scarf – nothing!

  I opened my assistant manager’s notebook at a fresh page – nothing!

  I read the latest issue of Kickaround magazine from cover to cover – nothing!

  My brain was as empty as Mr Flake’s ice-cream van on a hot summer’s day.

  I thought about asking Daniel for help, but I knew he would be too busy. He had cool-kid stuff to do, like scoring goals and shrugging. So instead, I decided to go and see Grandpa George again.

  “Well, if it isn’t my clever little collybobble! How’d you get on?”

  This time, I gave Grandpa George my full match report – Tabia’s “screamer”, Alex W’s winner and Izzy’s error.

  “Oh, deary diddums,” he said, “no one likes a ball grog!”

  “A what?”

  “A ball grog! That’s what we used to call someone who thinks they can dribble around the whole tiddly team on their own.”

  “Do you mean a ball HOG, Grandpa?”

  “Hmm, well, let me see … no, no, it was absatootly a ball GROG! Anyway, football is a team game. Perhaps, you need to remind this Izzy about that.”

  “Yes, but how do I do that, Grandpa?”

  “Well now, you’re the assistant manager, miladdy, not me!”

  Grandpa George was right; it was my job to come up with another super-clever plan. What could help the Tissbury players to work together as a team? A tug of war? A relay race? No, what I needed to find out was Izzy’s Kyoto Dragons – what was her favourite thing in the whole wide world? Once I knew that, I could use it to show her that working together was the best way to win.

  “Me
, of course – I’m her favourite thing!” was Tabia’s first answer, when I asked her the next day.

  “Very funny. Come on, this is serious.”

  “OK, let me think … a-ha, I’ve got it. Donna Does Dance!”

  “Who’s Donna? I didn’t know Izzy had a sister.”

  “No, she’s a famous dancer from America, HIPPO-HEAD. She does these really cool videos with her friends, Michael and Michelle. Where have you been for the last few weeks? You should really check it out.”

  “Thanks, Tabs, I will!”

  The only problem was that apparently, I was still too young to have my own phone. I would have to watch it on TV, but I knew what Mum would say:

  “No TV until you’ve finished your homework.”

  Unless! Unless, I told a little white lie…

  “Mum, we’ve been learning this dance in class and we’ve got to perform it in assembly tomorrow,” I told her as calmly as I could. “I’m really bad at it, so can I watch the video tonight please?”

  “Of course,” she said. But I wasn’t getting away with it that easily. “Why don’t I help you? We can practise together! You know, your mama used to be a real mover and groover back in her day! What kind of dance is it? Salsa? Tango? Ballet?”

  “Er, it’s easier if I just show you, I think.”

  I picked the video right at the top of the search page, called “HIPZ & HOPZ”. It turned out to be a lot of hip wiggling, and a lot of hopping.

  “THIS IS FUN!” Mum shouted over the loud music. “Come on, left foot forward, then SHAKE, then HOP and … right foot forward. That’s it!”

  Before I knew it, I was dancing with my mum! I was so glad that the living room curtains were closed. Imagine if Billy had seen me.

  Johnny BALLROOM DANCER!

  Johnny DISCO BALL!

  The jokes would have lasted for ever. The things I do for my football team…

  Mum was having the time of her life and, if I’m 120 per cent honest, I was having a pretty good time too, once I got the hang of it.