Stepping out onto the pitch where legends of the past once made history chokes me up a little bit.There’re dueling chants from the crowd.
“Kyle!Kyyyle Thurston!He’s one of our own!”rings out at a million decibels from one end of the stadium, and“AJ!AJ!AJ!He scores goals and knocks Kyle out!”from the other.Not a huge fan of that new rendition of my song, but I look over at Kyle and see that little smirk of his.
“Champions of England!Chaaaampions of England!”the Union fans chant back.
Wow, the game hasn’t even kicked off yet, and it’s already the best atmosphere I’ve been part of.
I make my way to my position and take a deep breath.The ref blows his whistle.The crowd roar and clap and stomp their feet.This is deafening.This is amazing.
The initial passes from both teams are a little wayward, and both sets of fans jeer the opposition.As soon as I touch the ball, I’m greeted with boos like I’ve never heard before.My fans are trying their best to cheer, but it’s to no avail.I scuff my pass to McIntyre, and the ball goes out for a throw-in.A loud chorus of “Whhheeyyyy!”belts around the stadium.
Kyle collects the ball from a pass by his teammate, and runs toward my goal.I put on my afterburners and chase him down, managing to make a perfect tackle just outside the area.The ball bounces off his shin and goes out for a goal kick.His fans boo, and mine are lapping it up.I help him to his feet.“Nice tackle.Been practicing?”he asks and winks at me.
“I’ve been learning how to deal with some pretty big tackles as of late,” I say, winking back at him, and head back to my position.
Kyle
It’s remarkable how someone as tall as AJ can go into a tackle on someone like me and not hurt me at all, and yet still get the ball cleanly.It shows his determination to the game and his willingness to keep me safe.Having dusted myself down, I shout to Shippers to give me the ball.
I take it in stride, and then whip a cross over two City defenders to find Jackson.He holds the ball up while I run into space and into the box.He manages to find me from a tight angle, and I get a shot away, but it’s saved by their keeper who then has a chuckle to himself.I know it’s one of his tactics.I know he does it to incite opposing players and yet…it still boils my piss.It takes everything in me to not confront him.Captain Shippers yells at me to get back into position.I turn just as I see the goalkeeper ushering me away with his gloved hands.Deep breaths.Don’t lose your cool in the final.
Twenty-four minutes have elapsed, and it’s still goalless.It’s been end-to-end stuff, though, with both AJ and I having a few shots on goal.
Thirty-three minutes go by, and I find myself in a one-on-one situation with the laughing keeper.I put a little extramustardon my shot, and it fizzes away from him and into the back of the net.
What.The.Fuck.
The stadium erupts.Well, half of it.I run to our supporters and kiss the badge, maintaining distance from them as I don’t want a pointless yellow card.I’m swamped by my teammates, and we pump our fists in the air.The fans are bouncing and cheering my name.I’m in dreamland.I watch as AJ collects the ball from the back of the net and runs to the center circle to place the ball down with a determined look in his eyes.
AJ
I’m happy for Kyle, I really am.But I’ll be damned if this ends up 1–0.I’m going to write my name in the history books too.Rodrigo passes the ball to me from kick off.I run with the ball down the wing, only to be stopped in my tracks by one of his defenders.I’m booed mercilessly by his set of supporters, and it’s beginning to feel like I’m in enemy territory.I gain the ball back from an interception, but I’m pushed to the deck by his brute of a midfielder.My white shorts are now stained with grass and mud.I love when my kit gets in a state.It shows I’m in a fight.I give the midfielder props, it takes a lot for someone to knock me off my feet.I’m reminded again of Gaffer’s words about going down in the box.
The irony is, in the box, that might not have been a foul.As it happens, seeing as the foul is in the middle of the pitch, it’s just a free kick.
The evening sun is making its descent.Thankfully, we’re playing against it, and by the time the second half comes around, it won’t be a problem.The heat, however, is no joke, and I’m thankful I’ve been prepared for it.
The free kick is launched upfield, I use my frame to collect the ball and sweep a pass off to Collins on the right wing.He teases the defenders with some silky footwork before whipping in a brilliant cross.
I meet it at the back post with my head, but Kyle’s keeper manages to get a fingertip to it, and knocks it around the post.The resulting corner leads to nothing.Union are growing into the game, and Kyle almost adds a second with an audacious left footed shot from outside the box.
On the stroke of the thirtieth minute, there’s a scramble in the Union box, feet are getting tangled, shirts are being pulled, and then I see it—an opening.The ball spins on the grass, I manage to seize custody of it, and smash it into the back of the net.
I whirl away, pumping my fists, and get chased down by my teammates.
Game on.
Four minutes later, I find myself in another ounce of space.I don’t think, I just uncork my right foot, and the ball finds the top right corner.
Now it’s the City fans that are cheering.They’re singing my name.They’re on their feet and screaming at the top of their lungs.I whirl away to Gaffer, and embrace him with a hug.He’s clapping me on the back and soon enough my teammates join in on the fun again.
We go in at halftime 2–1 up.I try to catch Kyle’s eye, but he has his head down.He’s a mixture of focused and pissed off.This is bad news.I know he’s going to take the game by the scruff of the neck in the second half.I welcome it.A smile plays on my lips.
Kyle
I can feel the rage bubbling up inside me.I sit on the locker room bench and try to let it wash over me.I close my eyes, and every time I do, I see AJ’s keeper.He’s laughing.Laughing at every shot he saves.I want to put an end to that laugh.Not in anI’m-going-to-kill-himway, but more of awho’s-laughing-now, you-little-wank-pheasantway.
I listen to the manager's team talk with gritted teeth, my head down by my knees.I’m not sulking, despite what it may look like on the outside.I’m getting my game face on.I’m not going down without a fight.Not a chance.
