Hot Prospect by Cindy Jefferies Page B

Jones wheels away to high-five his teammates, then jogs back to his own half to await the restart. 1–1. Can either side finish this?
    The clock was winding down, and the match looked like heading to penalties. Neither side was dominating, and all ten players were exhausted. Roddy picked up the ball on the edge of his own area after another fruitless blue attack, and saw an open space ahead of him.
    And now Jones is on the ball. It’s a long way to the other end, but he’s thundering down the pitch. He skips past the despairing lunge of the only blue defender, and now he is all alone in the Manor Primary half
.
    Jones puts his head down and hoofs the ball ahead of himself, sprinting to catch up. The keeper is unsure what to do, and dithers a few yards off his line before rushing out late. Jones senses the indecision, and hoists a perfect lob. Time seems to stand still as the ball arcs over the goalie’s outstretched hands. Slowly, it dips just under the crossbar and nestles in the back of the net. The final whistle goes! Jones topples over backwards and lies flat out on the ground, before being crushed by his celebrating team-mates. Manor Primary is gutted. Jones will be lifting the cup here, and his team will be taking home the glory!
    Valley Primary was presented with prizes by the tournament sponsor. There was a silver cup for their school and a boot bag for each member of the team. Roddy raised the cup above his head to the cheers of the crowd. As the applause died away, he could see his dadsmiling proudly, so Roddy sprinted over to him. But before he could show off his winnings, Mr Taylor had joined them, too.
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œWhat 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?”
    â€œIt’s run by Stadium School!” said Roddy, staring at the front of the smart, glossy flyer. “I saw a programme about them on TV.”
    â€œThis isn’t actually going to be held at Stadium School,” Mr Taylor explained. “The summer-school day will be held at the CountyGround 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.
    â€œRing 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.”
    â€œWill 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.”
    â€œSee you at the car in a minute,” Roddy said. “I’m just going to tell Bryn about it.