Man of the Match by Dan Freedman

linked his hands together and put his chin on his knuckles.
    Then he let out a deep, long sigh.
    â€œWould the real James Johnson please stand up?” he said.
    â€œWhat?” Jamie frowned. “I don’t under—”
    â€œI think, if I’m not mistaken, that a real professional footballer has just walked into my office,” said Raymond Porlock with a huge smile.
    â€œWelcome back, James. Welcome back.”

 
    As the game kicked off, Jamie’s heart began to pound with excitement. He could feel his spirit awaken and his legs and feet come alive in a way that they had not done in months.
    He was ready to play.
    And the first time he received the ball, he knew exactly what to do. He pushed the ball in front of him and rocketed forward, soaring down the line. He could feel the wind battering his ears. He seemed to be running so fast he might take off.
    Two, then three players came across and tried to stop him in any way they could. A flying lunge, a pull of the shirt, a rugby tackle, even. But nothing was going to stop Jamie Johnson today. Nothing in the world.
    Jamie got to the byline on the right-hand touchline and without thinking, he wrapped his right foot around the ball to curl a glorious centre into the box. It was as sweet a cross as any he had ever made with his left foot.
    With pace and whip and curl, the ball arrowed to the far post, where Dillon Simmonds launched himself powerfully, bravely into the air and nodded the ball down and into the net.
    It was an awesome goal.
    Seaport Town were ahead after four minutes and twenty-nine seconds.

    Jamie looked to the dugout to see Raymond Porlock, dressed as ever in his bright green jumper, wheeling down the line with his arms outstretched. He was running towards the Seaport Town fans, leaning from side to side as he went. He was doing the aeroplane celebration!
    The Seaport players split into two groups, half of them gathering around Dillon to congratulate him on his strike, half of them patting Jamie on the back. They were fully aware that not many players in football could run down the line and put in a cross like that.
    But the celebrations didn’t last for too long. Quickly the Seaport players jogged back to the centre circle. There was a hunger in the air. An appetite for more goals.
    As they jogged past each other and prepared for the restart, Jamie Johnson and Dillon Simmonds made eye contact with each other.
    â€œGood ball,” snarled Dillon without a hint of joy. It looked as though it physically hurt him to say the words.
    â€œNice finish,” spat Jamie.
    He wanted to wash his mouth out as soon as he’d said it.
    Right from the kick-off, the Seaport Town players charged forward. They were a unit, working as one. They ran, chased and harried, forcing an error from their opponents.
    Finally, a midfielder attempted to pass the ball back to his central defender, but his contact with the ball was too weak.
    The ball was there for the taking.
    Jamie raced in from the wing and took possession. Then he stopped and pretended he was about to back-heel the ball behind him. But as soon as he saw the defender falling for his trick, Jamie knocked the ball forward instead and scampered after it.
    He swiftly outpaced two markers and then, on the edge of the area, he nutmegged the final defender!
    He was so happy to be back playing he could actually feel himself smiling as he powered forward now, one on one with the keeper.
    He knew he could beat this keeper in any way he wanted: a volley, a curler, a side-foot into the corner . . . he even had time to set himself up for an overhead.
    But he just wanted to get the ball into the back of the net as quickly as possible.
    He looked down at the ball and, with his left foot, simply lashed it home. He wellied it, stonked it, absolutely hammered it! And the ball thundered right into the top corner!
    Jamie couldn’t contain his adrenaline.
    â€œBoom!” he roared. “Pick that