Noah kept glancing at the clock. How could the seconds go so slowly?
Arsenal had fielded an aggressive side. Defending against them had taken every bit of his energy and he was flagging.
Yet Brockton were more fired up than Noah had ever experienced. When they’d come out onto the pitch, countless fans had rainbow armbands on. Of course, the protestors were still there. Noah could swear their numbers had dwindled.
Seeing the message of acceptance wherever he looked gave him power he didn’t know he possessed.
Four minutes to go.
He and Ingvar were in the centre. Noah loved being alongside a player the size of Ingvar. Noah had taken to dodgingaround him to ward away side attacks. In the centre defence, they were a force to be reckoned with.
Brockton had possession of the ball. Noah glanced nervously at the crowd. Everyone appeared to be holding their breaths. Willing their team on.
Ewen took a shot at goal but it hit the crossbar. The crowd groaned.
Three minutes to go.
He glanced nervously at Ingvar. Brockton had never gotten to the semi-finals of the FA Cup. He glanced at their supporters. Everyone held their breath.
Noah sought a new position to the left of the goal. Plugging a gap Adam had left when he’d run to the other end of the pitch to worry the opposing defenders.
Arsenal’s goalie kicked the ball. It was high and powerful and heading straight for Noah.
Their prize striker, Miguel Sanchez, tracked it at a deadly pace. Noah readied himself. He glanced at his hand where the ring Malcolm had given him for Christmas nestled on his finger. He would be watching from home. Noah couldn’t even begin to think about having him in the stands for such an important game. He’d lose his composure.
Two minutes to go.
The ball hit the ground with a thud and Sanchez instantly tamed it. The away fans roared with approval. Sanchez locked eyes with Noah for a split second before diving for the gap between him and Ingvar.
“Not on my fucking watch,” Noah muttered.
With strength he didn’t know he had, he lurched toward the goal. He was intent on beating the striker there rather than leave Goran to face him alone.
Somehow Sanchez slipped and temporarily lost control of the ball. Again his supporters shouted his name. Sanchez soonregained his composure but too late. The wobble had given Noah all the time he needed to get in front of the goal.
One minute to go.
Sanchez appeared shocked that Noah had closed the gap so efficiently. Using this moment of indecision, Noah darted forward and went for the ball. He’d taken a huge gamble considering they were in the penalty area. Yet he connected with the ball and sliced it out of the reach of the striker, who reactively fell to the ground.
Noah kicked the ball hard to the other end of the pitch.
The crowd were screaming. It would take a miracle for Arsenal to score now. Even so, Noah wouldn’t lose focus until that whistle blew.
Tito had intercepted the ball and played for time.
Ingvar sidled up to Noah. All they could do was watch and stay vigilant.
“That was outstanding, mate.”
Noah’s eyes were trained on the ref. Surely it was time now.
Time could be so cruel.
Then the whistle blew and the stadium went crazy. Ingvar grabbed Noah and pulled him into a bear hug.
When he broke free, Brockton Park had a carnival atmosphere. Everyone was waving flags, cheering and hugging each other.
Some of their fans were chanting “It’s a long way to London,” at the dejected away supporters. It certainly would be a shit coach journey home for them.
