Shoot to Win by Dan Freedman

 
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    Jamie anticipated what was going to happen. He raced to intercept the Oak Hall throw-in and won possession of the ball.
    If he was going to stick to Hansard’s tactics, Jamie now had to whack the ball into the channel for Ashish Khan to chase. But Jamie didn’t feel like sticking to the plan.
    Jamie pushed the ball a good ten yards in front of him so he could really open up his stride. As soon as he started running, his pace kicked in; he rocketed down the line. The Oak Hall right back came across to close him down but Jamie just flew past him.
    He felt his marker try to clip his ankle and it would have been a free-kick . . . if Jamie had gone down. But he didn’t. He wasn’t going to stop now; he just kept on running.
    Jamie drove further and further forward, deep into the heart of Oak Hall territory. As he approached the penalty area, the crowd on the touchline strained their necks to keep up with the action. Now they were seeing the real Jamie Johnson.
    One more defender – that’s all Jamie had to beat.
    â€œYes! Play me!” shouted Ash. He was the only player who’d been quick enough to keep up with Jamie. He was making a run across the box to the penalty spot.
    Jamie looked up and shaped to cross it to Ash; that’s exactly what everyone would be expecting him to do. But Jamie wanted to do something a little bit more special than that. He wanted to do something for any of the scouts that might be there. He wanted to go all the way himself.
    Jamie put his head down and dashed towards the last Oak Hall defender. When he got close enough, he moved his left foot over the ball with a flourish to make it seem as though he was going to go on the outside. Then, just as the defender closed him down, he pushed the ball inside with his right foot to head straight for goal.
    It was a classic step-over. There was just one problem: the defender didn’t buy it. He’d stayed on his feet and kept his eye on the ball. He tackled Jamie just as he was on the brink of a brilliant individual goal.
    Jamie squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head up to the sky. “Aaagh!” he growled in anguish. He’d been so close. Why didn’t his step-over work? All the best wingers were wicked at step-overs. . .
    â€œJohnson!!” Hansard roared from the sidelines. “Get baaack!!”
    Jamie turned around to see that the defender that had tackled him was now leading an Oak Hall counter-attack. There was a huge gap down Kingfield’s left flank – exactly where Jamie should have been.
    With no one to mark him, the Oak Hall player had been able to get all the way to the edge of the penalty area, from where he delivered a sumptuous curling cross to the far post.
    The ball sailed effortlessly over all the Kingfield defenders’ heads, finding its target of the tall Oak Hall striker. The attacker sprang high into the air and pulled his head back before jerking it forward again with power and precision to fire the ball across the goal towards the far corner of the net.
    Jamie had only got back as far as the halfway line. He was still out of breath from his own run. As his lungs panted their exhaustion, he knew that Hansard would blame him for this goal. He could already hear the abuse coming his way.
    But then Calum Fogarty, the Kingfield goalkeeper, flew into the air, clawing towards the ball like an eagle swooping for its prey. He got the ends of his fingertips to it, and touched it around the post for the corner.
    He hadn’t just saved a goal. He’d saved Jamie too.
    â€œJohnson!” bellowed Hansard. He sounded more like an army general than a football coach. “Get back and defend the corner! Play for the team, not for yourself!”
    â€œYou tell him, sir!” shouted Dillon Simmonds, Jamie’s biggest enemy on the team. “It’s like we’re playing with ten men!”
    Jamie sprinted back towards his goal. If they wanted to see how