One goal down, two to go if I’m going to win the bet with AJ.The most important thing is the team, I know that, but I also want to prove something to everyone, and the best way to do that is to score the “perfect hat trick”—a goal with the head, left foot, and right foot.Not to mention a hat trick on my cup game debut will do wonders for my chances of a starting place next season.
The next twenty minutes go by in a flash and, thankfully, my nose has stopped bleeding, so I take the cotton wool out of it.The home side pull a goal back on the stroke of half-time, and we trudge back into the dressing room tied 1–1.
The team's body language ranges from frustration to concentration.I’m the youngest player on the team, and I make a point to listen to every word Coach is saying.I want to win this game for the team and the fans.If we get to this final, it will be huge.
“And Thurston, keep doing what you’re doing.Your pace is killing their center backs.Gus, I want you to play him in every chance you get, okay?”
“Yes, Coach.”Gus, the Brazilian dynamo, pats me on the shoulder and gives me a smile.“Let’s make them sweat.”He finishes, and I give him a smile back.Gus is one of our best midfielders, and he’s wanted by a number of high-profile clubs, including the giants of Spain.For reasons unknown to the rest of the club, he likes it here.
I rub the club crest again for good luck before heading back out onto the field.We’re now playing against the sun and toward our fans in the away end.Perfect.
My heart is a drum against my chest.The opposing team kicks off, and I chase down the ball, forcing them to kick the ball out for a throw-in.Gus throws it to me, and I get past the defender with a step over.The keeper comes racing out and collects the ball from my feet.I swear in frustration.The away crowd roars in encouragement, and I’m back to chasing the ball down again.This time their midfielder blasts the ball into my chest, winding me.I go down, pressing my hands against my chest and trying to breathe normally.The play goes on, to the adulation of the home fans.Our captain shouts at the ref, but he’s booked for dissent.This enrages our supporters even further.Gus races over to me to ask if I’m all right.I say I am and get back to my feet.Nothing like being blasted at point blank range in the chest with a cold ball.Still, it could have been worse.My breathing gets back under control, and I jog off the residual side effects.
Seventy minutes have gone by now, and we’re still tied one each.The tackles have been flying in from both sides, and I’m one of the few players now to not be booked.
Eighty minutes in, and we have a corner.Coach has instructed that I stay on the edge of the area and wait for my chance.I’m unmarked, luckily.The corner comes in, and Gus manages to get his head onto it, nodding it out to me.This is my chance, I take a deep breath and let fly with my right foot.The ball sails into the top left-hand corner.I run to our fans in celebration, and I’m swamped by my teammates.I race back to the center circle, and the ref is thrusting a yellow card in my face.
“Ref!What’s that for?”I shout at him, and he runs off the other way.“Ref!”I ask, “what was that for?”
“Another word from you and it’ll be your second booking—and a sending-off—for dissent!”I know full well what it’s for; running to the fans and celebrating with them, as they clamor to get over the security guards, and advertising hoardings is prohibited.But I couldn’t help myself.It’s a stupid fucking rule.
I’m about to plead my case when our captain comes over, “Leave it, Thurston.We need you on the pitch.”
I listen to our captain and make my way back to my starting position, my blood boiling, and my anxiety running high.I can’t fuck this up.I think of AJ and what he must be thinking.God knows why.My heartrate steadies.
My first start and I’m booked.This is not good.Coach fines us a quarter of our weekly wages if we’re booked and half if it’s a red.If it’s a straight red, he forces us to go door to door in the community and apologize.
The last few minutes tick by agonizingly slowly.The home side are piling on the pressure.I chase a ball down and block a shot with my body, which is definitely going to sting in the morning.The fans are getting frustrated.Our fans want the final whistle, and are making whistle-like noises.The home fans are doing their best to rally their team but we manage to dig down deep.The ball comes to me, and I take it to their corner, shielding the ball with my smaller frame.My shirt is being pulled and two players are trying to snatch custody of the ball.I hold onto the corner flag for leverage.They manage to blast the ball with the intent of making it rebound off me for a goal kick, but I maneuver myself out of the way, and we have a corner.Only there’s no time to take it.We’ve done it.We’re in the final.I don’t care if I didn't win my bet with AJ, I’m in a bloody cup final!We all celebrate on the pitch and with the jubilant away fans chanting songs in the stands.Some of them storm the pitch and celebrate with us, and the security do little to stop it.It’s a pure moment, one that I will cherish.Up to now, this is the single greatest moment of my life and of my career.
We make our way back to the dressing room, and the coach is all smiles.“We did it!We fuckin’ did it lads!That’s exactly what I want to see from you all.From every game.Passion.Desire.Commitment.You played as a fuckin’ family out there today, despite the ref being an absolute wanker.Don’t get me wrong, the fines still stand, but just know, the ref was way out of line.”Fuck, I mutter to myself.That’s going to hit my family hard.I try not to let it show on my face.
“And Thurston.”
Fuck.He’s seen my face.I gulp.“Yes, Coach?”My voice lilts a little.
“Great work out there.You showed the reason why we’ve put so much fuckin’ effort into you over these years.Your goal has sent this team to the next level.Win or lose in the final, we’re history makers tonight.”
The team cheer and jostle me, ruffling my hair and giving me digs in the arm.There’s a huge smile on my face.
Once all the excitement dies down, I fish my phone out of my pocket and search for City’s result.Just typing the name sends an annoyed shiver down my spine, and I tell myself to stop being childish.
“They’ve won.”I don’t realize I’ve spoken out loud until Gus asks who.“Oh,” I say, “City.We’re playing City in the final.”I then check to see who scored.AJ.He got the only goal of the game.I shoot him a text on Insta.
Kyle
Looks like with my two goals, yes, two, and your one, yep, one, we have a hat trick.Still wanna meet up later?
I’m about to put my phone back in my bag when it vibrates in my hand.I see that it’s AJ, and I smile.
AJ
I’m so glad your mathematical ability allows you to count up to at least three.Proud of you.And yes.I’m up for it if you are?
Kyle
Haha.You know we had the same state school education, right?Where do you fancy meeting?
AJ
