Man of the Match by Dan Freedman Page A

one out!”
    Jamie was making up for lost time.
    It may have been 2-0 to Seaport, but Jamie Johnson was only just getting started. . .
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    Seaport Town went on to win the game 9-2! It was the biggest away league win in their history!

    At the end of the game, as they walked off the pitch, the Seaport players couldn’t help but laugh.
    Their left-winger, Stuart Cribbins, the club joker, was doing the robot dance as his teammates got in a circle around him and clapped his moves!
    â€œThat’s it, Stu!” they shouted, egging him on. “Throw us some shapes!”
    Meanwhile, Raymond Porlock had jumped into the crowd and was now singing with the rest of the fans: “ Ten goals! We only wanted ten goals . . . we only wanted ten goals . . . we only wanted ten goals. . . Ten goals. . . ”
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    â€œPhenomenal, James!” said Raymond Porlock, as soon as they got into the dressing room after the game. “You were quicker than three leopards driving a Ferrari! No! Make that four!”
    â€œCheers, Mr Porlock!” said Jamie, laughing. “Feels great to be back.”
    â€œWho needs Bertorelli when you’ve got James Johnson, eh?” gloated Porlock.
    But as soon as he heard that cheat’s name, Jamie’s smile instantly vanished. Just thinking about him made Jamie feel like puking on the spot.
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    â€œSo you want to tell me what’s up?” asked Raymond Porlock a little while later, as he sat down next to Jamie on the coach back to Seaport.
    The rest of the team were having a laugh and playing cards in the back three rows, but Jamie was sitting by himself, near the front, looking aimlessly out of the window.
    â€œNothing’s up,” said Jamie, avoiding eye contact with Porlock. He was tracing a raindrop with his finger as it slid down the outside of the window. “I’m fine.”
    â€œDo me a favour, son. You play sensationally. I mean really sensationally. World class. You’re as happy as Larry and then I mention Mattheus Bertorelli’s name and suddenly you close up, go into your shell and don’t say a word to anyone. . . Look, you’re doing it again!”
    Jamie knew the red fury in his cheeks was giving him away. He couldn’t help it. Knowing what Bertorelli was planning – and that the game that he was going to get himself sent off in couldn’t be too far away now – made Jamie feel like punching a hole right through the side of the bus.
    â€œI just don’t like being compared to Bertor. . .” Jamie stopped and clenched his jaw tight. He couldn’t say his name. “I don’t like being compared to him, OK? I’m nothing like him. Nothing like him at all.”
    â€œOK, Jamie,” Porlock said. “I’ve got that. So do you want to level with me, then? Tell me what it is you’ve got against the guy?”
    A bit of Jamie did want to talk about it, wanted to get it out in the open. But he also knew that if he did, he’d never play for Hawkstone again. And that was something he couldn’t risk.
    â€œI just . . . don’t want to talk about it right now, Mr Porlock,” he said. “OK?”
    â€œ Don’t want to or can’t ?” asked Porlock, searching Jamie’s eyes for clues. But Jamie remained silent long enough for his manager to realize that the conversation wasn’t going any further.
    â€œFair enough,” said Porlock, tapping Jamie’s shoulder as he stood up. “But remember, whenever you’re ready to talk . . . I’m here.”
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    â€œRobbie?!” Jamie shouted. “What are you doing chucking stones at my window? You’re gonna break it!”
    â€œCome for you to teach me the double drag-backs, like you said!”
    â€œFine,” said Jamie. “Wait there. I’ll be down in a sec.”
    As Jamie put on his tracksuit bottoms, he realized that he was quite looking forward