Striker Boy Kicks Out Read Online Free Page B

dude!” laughed Emi, walking over to join Nat and Adilson. “He had me up ‘til all hours showing me his poker tricks!”
    Nat and Adilson laughed and they followed everyone else through the front door of the stadium, across a marble-tiled concourse, down some stairs, along a corridor that smelt of engine oil, and into a changing room.
    It was nowhere near as smart and comfortable as their changing room back at the Ivy Stadium, but it was clean and functional. Stan Evans was placing training kit on thebenches round the room. The club physiotherapist Colin Dempsey and publicity woman Helen Aldershot were the only other members of the Rangers staff accompanying Fox and Evans on the trip.
    Nat found a space on the benches and started getting changed.
    At that moment, the changing room door flew open and Kelvin burst in. “I am staying with a totally crazy family!” he groaned, making a beeline for Nat and Emi. Kelvin was short and muscular – a dead ringer for Brazilian legend Roberto Carlos. At twenty, he was firmly established as the England under-twenty-ones’ right-back.
    â€œCrazy in what way?” asked Emi.
    â€œThey have seven year-old twin boys, who got me to sign everything in their house. I mean EVERYTHING – tables, chairs, even their teddy bears!”
    â€œIt makes a change to be wanted!” shouted the Wildman.
    The whole changing room, including Kelvin, erupted in laughter.
    â€œListen up!” declared Ian Fox, striding into the room. “This is where the serious business starts!”
    Fox was hugely respected both within Hatton Rangers and by the outside world. He’d taken the club from the fourth tier right up to the Premier League in seven seasons, with a limited budget and a skeleton staff.
    Nat did up his bootlaces and sat down with everyone else. He could feel the nerves jangling inside him. Herehe was again with the real Hatton Rangers squad, about to start training. No matter how many times he’d sat with these players – who until a few months ago were his heroes on posters and in newspapers – it still felt totally surreal.
    â€œWelcome back to the world of professional football!” boomed Fox.
    Emi winked at Nat.
    â€œIt’s good to see that everyone has reached this point without picking up any serious injuries – no tripping over kids’ paddling pools, falling down stairs carrying their kids’ computers or getting ruptured stomachs due to excessive ice cream consumption.”
    Everyone laughed. Robbie Clarke groaned. He was the one who’d broken his arm after falling downstairs – just before the Tottenham game at the end of the season. Luckily it hadn’t been too bad a break and the club doctor had passed him as fit two weeks ago.
    â€œSo let’s cut straight to the serious bit,” continued Fox. “If there’s anyone in this room who thinks this is some kind of jolly, they might as well get changed and make their way to the airport. This is where our new season begins and I am utterly determined to make sure that this season is very different from the last. Being so perilously close to relegation from the off was not good for the nerves or the heart.”
    â€œToo right!” agreed the Wildman.
    â€œYour performance against Manchester United was thebest of the season. After all of my lectures and demands, you finally started playing like a team. And that’s what I want you to do out here. The better you gel as a group over the course of this tournament, the better our chance of making a good start to the season back home.”
    There were nods all round the room.
    â€œThis is not some meaningless kick around in the sun. This is a tournament in which we will be competing alongside five world-class teams – teams who have all won numerous trophies. Our lack of silverware might make them think we’re some lightweight outfit, here just to make up the numbers, but