A footie-themed story...

[Roostophe]

I know I could've put this one in my other thread, but this story is entirely different to that one. And it's not as long. (Whew!)

 

I like this story. It's more light-hearted than my other one, and there's a lot more comedy. Only depends on if you like football or not.

 

"Oi, Luke. I'm open!"

Luke kept running down that flank with the ball, the opposition defenders around him like fat people at a buffet.

"Oi, Luke! Come on! Cross it!"

He was tightly marked, but the chance to cross it was always there.

"C'mon! Cross it in!"

I was open in the box, the 'keeper was remaining on his line. All the defenders were off marking Luke.

"Cross it! CROSS IT! Agh!"

They'd finally got the ball of Luke, who was now sprawled on the floor, and all he and I could do was watch as the opposition defender booted the ball up into our half.

I ran up to Luke, who was getting back to his feet.

"Bloody hell! I was open in the box, why didn't you pass it?"

"Sorry, mate. I didn't see you."

"You couldn't see me? Were your eyes closed or something?"

He opened his mouth to answer back, but cheers from the other end told us that the other team had scored. I saw the scorer run off towards the corner flag and start singing, thinking he was Elvis Presley. It was a good impression, because he was fat!

I turned to look at Luke, who was now admiring his boots.

"Two-nil down now!" I yelled. "We needed to win this game! Look before you go all Ronaldinho on us, and try to samba your way past two markers!"

Luke remained staring at his boots. To be honest, I wasn't mad at him. We both knew this was a must-win game. But being two goals down in the eighty-eighth minute never means you'll get all three points. Unless you pull off some sort of a miracle - Manchester United style.

We did not lose that game two-nil, we managed to get one back before the end. With a class header by McGregor, our skipper. But we trudged back into our changing rooms, utterly disappointed. And got changed, hardly ever saying a word.

We all knew how brilliantly we played today. If anything, we played better than the other team. But we accepted it as an off-day, a day where nothing went right. And now, we'll have to wait another year before we win the local Under Twenty-one League.

It was freezing outside, mind you, it was November. All the more reason to have a nice shower.

One of the few advantages of losing a game like this, was that there was absolutely no chance of anybody towel-whipping you right on your bare backside, as nobody would be in the mood. A five-nil win, however, and everybody's at it.

I said "See ya." to Luke and the other lads, and left the changing rooms. Revitalised and warm in clean clothes and my favourite black coat, and came face to face with a girl, who was close to freezing to death. But to be honest, she was wearing a warm jacket, a scarf, and a wooly hat. But a skirt? In November?

"About time!" She said. Hello to you, too. I thought. "How long does it take?" How was your day?

"I don't know if you just noticed, but we lost!" I said. Oh, It's been okay. What do you want to do now?

"Bloody hell, Nick. It's only a football game!" She snapped back. Could I rip your head off!?

I did actually want to rip her head off at that point, if only for a split second. I don't have it in me to kill my best friend.

I followed her back to her car, throwing my bag into her unlocked boot. Then I got inside, slouched into the passenger's seat. And she drove me home.

She isn't my mother, by the way. Her name's Emily, and she's my next door neighbour, and my best friend. Which is obvious because she's giving me a lift home.

I didn't say much on the way home, and neither did Emily. We both knew the mood we were in wasn't a very good one. Emily was not happy because I'd taken so long to change, and I wasn't happy that we'd lost the game.

After a frosty drive, inside and outside the car, we returned back at our houses. The fact that there was still no car in my drive meant that my parents were still out.

Emily turned off the car's engine, then turned to look at me.

"I'm sorry, for saying that it was only a game. I know how much that annoys you."

I turned to look at her. Damn, she was so beautiful.

"I shouldn't have kept you waiting, Em. Sorry."

Emily gave me a little grin. Then she began to fix a chain and padlock onto the steering wheel.

You can see how solid our friendship was at that point. We might argue, but at some point we'll kiss and make up. But without the kiss, and no lipstick is seen.

I undid my seatbelt and opened up the car door, then Emily spoke again.

"Fancy coming in? Mum's not home yet."

I replied with a simple answer of "Why not? But I'll put me bag in the house first."

I got out the car and grabbed the bag from the unlocked boot. You can probably guess what happens next. I'll use that spare time to introduce myself. This is me, this is my dream:

My name's Nicholas Dixon, but I prefer to be called Nick. And yes, I am a footballer. And yes, I am from Birmingham, if you haven't already figured out my accent. I've lived in Birmingham all my life, and I love this old, historic town. Which is much more than I can say about the damn football team who named themselves after it.

Heh, you know my allegiance now: I am an Aston Villa fan, and I will be until the day I die. I also dream of the day that I pull on the famous claret and blue of the famous club, and I intend to make such a childhood dream come true for myself.

Football is my life, and my passion. Ever since I saw Andy Townsend lift the Coca-Cola Cup, I knew I would be a Villa fan for life. And besides that, my dad wouldn't have me support any other team.

What can I say about football? They don't call it "The Beautiful Game" because many of the players are good-looking men, that all the girls swoon over. It's called that because there's more beauty in it than a Miss World competition. The way the players pass the ball to each other, feinting and dummying the Defender, the Striker nutmegging the 'Keeper to slot the ball into the back of net, it's all just beautiful. The only sport that can contain any sort of beauty to match is Basketball, and that isn't a bad sport, either.

Now you know most of the important information. I ought to continue with the story, where was I? Oh yes:

It was a normal late-November day. It was freezing outside and I'd just been out playing football for my team; A.F.C. Walmley under twenty-one's. We'd lost a title-deciding match, and I was now in my friends house, monotonously surfing the internet. I sat in front of a computer, idly clicking my way through random webpages, while Emily lay on her bed, drawing on a piece of paper.

It wasn't long until I got bored. I closed the webpage, and leaned backwards on the wooden chair I was sitting in. I stared at Emily doodling away, drawing another person with big eyes. Just like the many pictures that adorned her walls.

I continued to look at her like a deranged stalker, leering through the window of a celebrity's mansion. And I ended up stuck in Reminiscent City, thinking about how long I've known the girl in front of me.

Me and Emily have been good friends since before Primary School. We've been through a lot together, and even now, we're still close. There isn't really a bad thing to say about her, she's smart, funny, talented, and pretty. Damn, I thought of THAT again! She's my friend, I shouldn't think of her that way.

She looked up, and saw me glaring at her.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, a smile appeared on her face. She sounded like she was miles away, but I heard her loud and clear. I brought myself out of my little daydream.

"The past." was my reply. To be honest, I was. Well, before I thought of Emily in the 'forbidden' way.

She climbed off her bed, and stuck the picture she had drawn onto an empty part of pink wallpaper with bluetack. It was yet another picture of a girl with very big, and Bambi-like, eyes. She looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"Who's that, then?" I asked.

"A self-portrait." she replied. Now I know why I thought about the whole butter thing.

I made a small "Oh." noise, as it did look like her, and it was a very good drawing. Brown hair, hazel eyes, a small nose and a cute smile. Yep, a proper doppelganger.

I pulled my eyes from the smiling self-portrait and checked my watch. It had just gone six o'clock.

"I'd best nip off home." I said. Heading for the bedroom door. "See ya tomorrow." I added. A small "Bye." from Emily was followed by the sound of a door shutting behind me as I made my way home.

 

[jayseven]

Interesting! Nice to see how you write with a different story in mind. Maybe this is a touch autobiographical? Got a tasty neighbour friend, eh?

 

Only two negative things; The first is the bit where you explain teh accent. That might work on tv but if you're reading it... Well if you had written "like, y'knooo, awl sco'ish n' staff"... i mean, if you had written the phonetical sounds of the brummie accent then we could see that, but up to that point the thought of where the narrator comes from hadn't even crossed my mind!

 

The other thing is you say basketball is a beautiful game, but don't say why or how. That's fair enough as it would ruin the pacing, but the statement is sort of in between fact and opinion, almost leaving it up to the reader to decide. In most cases I believe the reader will disagree, which will distance the reader from the narrator.

 

I like that you've managed to portray three different characters fairly quickly. I would've liked to have seen Luke's reaction afterwards. He can either be an arrogant **** who always runs with the ball, or a bit of an idiot who genuinely didn't see him.

 

I like how you establish teh girl; a bit quirky wearing a skirt in winter. Also maybe a little into the lead guy, what with the picture too.

 

I look forward to seeing more of this story. Of course I'm not into football as much as I used to be. I used to read some kid's football stories, and i'd advise you to stay away from that stuff myself :P Where are you going with this story? Is it going to totally focus on the football element? What will the crises be?

[Roostophe]

Interesting! Nice to see how you write with a different story in mind. Maybe this is a touch autobiographical? Got a tasty neighbour friend, eh?

 

Haha. No, I haven't got a pretty next-door neighbour. But it is autobiographical in the footballing word. As the lead character is a Villa fan, and I am too. (Bet you didn't know that, huh. :wink: )

 

Only two negative things; The first is the bit where you explain teh accent. That might work on tv but if you're reading it... Well if you had written "like, y'knooo, awl sco'ish n' staff"... i mean, if you had written the phonetical sounds of the brummie accent then we could see that, but up to that point the thought of where the narrator comes from hadn't even crossed my mind!

 

Yeah, I'll change that. I'll add a Brummie phrase or something into the text before that bit.

 

The other thing is you say basketball is a beautiful game, but don't say why or how. That's fair enough as it would ruin the pacing, but the statement is sort of in between fact and opinion, almost leaving it up to the reader to decide. In most cases I believe the reader will disagree, which will distance the reader from the narrator.

 

It would ruin the pacing if I said what he thinks about Basketball early on, but you're right when you say the reader would probably disagree about the beauty in Basketball.

 

I like that you've managed to portray three different characters fairly quickly. I would've liked to have seen Luke's reaction afterwards. He can either be an arrogant **** who always runs with the ball, or a bit of an idiot who genuinely didn't see him.

 

I like how you establish teh girl; a bit quirky wearing a skirt in winter. Also maybe a little into the lead guy, what with the picture too.

 

I look forward to seeing more of this story. Of course I'm not into football as much as I used to be. I used to read some kid's football stories, and i'd advise you to stay away from that stuff myself :P Where are you going with this story? Is it going to totally focus on the football element? What will the crises be?

 

Like my other story, I'm going all teh way. It will focus fully on the football element, but there will be a subplot involving the lead character and the next-door neighbour. And as for the crises, I'm not sure yet.

[Roostophe]

I'm a bit annoyed. I've hit a large bout of writer's block regarding my other story. But this meant I could sort of finish off Chapter 2 for this story.

 

Friday came and Friday buggered off. Saturday appeared, and as we all know, that means we all do absolutely nothing, and repeat for Sunday.

Well, actually, I did do something on Saturday. Me and Emily met up with Luke in Sutton Coldfield Town Centre, giving my little brother John a lift to his mates house. He said they were just going to play on his mates Xbox 360 all day. Better his than mine, I suppose. I don't want to come home and find I got the dreaded 'Ring of Death' while they'd been playing it.

But, I digress...

We met up with Luke and basically dossed around. The town always looked less dull when it had its Christmas decorations up. We were Chrimbo shopping, as it was December. Looking around the shops, buying items we think our nearest and dearest will like. Then they open it up on the big day, and they will say "Ooh, I like this. Thank you.", only for them to flog it off come January.

But one good thing about Christmas was seeing the faces of the little 'un's on the big day. Their gullible faces tearing the wrapping paper off the presents 'that Father Christmas got them'.

We purchased some intended presents, and decided to take a break. We sat on a wooden bench, drinking bottles of Pepsi we bought from Woolworths, chatting away like friends do, and watching the other Xmas Shoppers walk by. I couldn't understand why they looked so anxious, it was only the twenty-eighth of November, Christmas was still weeks away.

While Luke and I chatted on about football, Emily fell silent. She wasn't interested in football, as she was a girl, and she had decided to take out a DVD that she had bought, and read the back of the case, as you do.

It was during a pause in our chat, that I saw what DVD it was.

"You bought that one for yourself, didn't you?" It was yet another one of those Japanese cartoons that she was obsessed with.

"Yeah, what of it?" she looked up and replied, a hint of joke in her voice. I joined in with the joke.

"Christmas is coming, you selfish Scroogina!" My voice was obviously put-on, seeing as I'm not from Bolton.

"I don't care about the world! I care about myself!" She declared, she was acting as a Russian.

That was perhaps the only time a bloke from Bolton, and a lass from Russia, would talk to each other about Christmas, in the middle of Sutton bleeding Coldfield!

The joke lost its fun, and she went back to perusing her DVD. This one appeared to be about anthropomorphic raccoons, if the front cover was anything to go by. It looked like a very strange film.

I will never understand the Japanese, or Emily's interest in Japanese anime.

"Oh, no. Look who's making his way over here."

Luke nudged me in the ribs. I turned my attention, from the cartoon raccoons, to a stupid git walking up to us.

This lad was a smug pillock named Michael Francis. He was arrogant, slightly chauvinistic, and a Birmingham City supporter. Three attributes I detest.

He pretended he only saw us as he walked past us.

"Oh, if it isn't Luke and Nicholas!"

"Well, if it isn't an annoying wazzock." Luke retorted, I sniggered. Emily looked up, a tutting noise came from her mouth.

I hated being anywhere near this dickhead.

"What do you want?"

The smuggest of smug grins appeared on his smuggish slab he called a face.

"I've come here to tell you, that I, Michael Francis, am now in Birmingham City's youth team!"

Luke cursed, Emily tutted again, I sneered.

"Really? That's believable. Along with flying pigs and the tooth fairy!"

Emily laughed, albeit a lot harder than I thought she would. Michael stared at her, and allowed his chauvinistic side to come out.

"Ah, Emily. I see you still haven't started making babies yet!"

Emily gave him the most evil of looks, making her look more like a demon than an angel. (Oh, stop that!)

Luke jumped up and told Michael to "eff-off", only not censored. Thankfully, he decided to oblige.

"I'm going. I can't stand being around Villa fans for more than a minute."

He then buggered off, much to our relief.

"I hate him, I'd love to kick a ball into his nuts!" said Luke routinely.

"I'd love to just hit him around the side of his sexist face!" said Emily surprisingly.

I glared at Emily in ASTONishment, she had never insulted Michael before.

"What are you gawping at?"

"You just said...you'd love to hit Michael."

Luke applauded Emily for her remark.

"Well, he deserves it!"

"I know he does." I said

"He should learn not to be so bloody sexist. The pig!"

"I can't believe that git got into The Blues' youth squad!" said Luke

"It will only be a matter of time before we're playing for The Villa." I replied.

We were both eighteen, we needed to be noticed, and put into their squad.

Although, we had both made an agreement. If Luke and I can't get into the Villa youth team, we might have to consider going to another local club, including Walsall. Either way, nothing was going to stop us from achieving our goal: To play for Aston Villa, no matter what route we had to take to get there. We were going to do it!