Chasing a Rugby Dream E-Book

James Hook

• Herausgeber: Polaris
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Chasing a Rugby Dream
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 354

Beschreibung

'A portrayal of a young person following their dream in the game, a cracking read' – Alun Wyn Jones, Wales and the British & Irish Lions Jimmy Joseph is enjoying a long, hot summer with his friends, counting down the days until he attends his first ever training camp at the Eagles Academy, the youth section of his local pro club. He hopes this is going to be the first major step on his journey to being a professional rugby player ... but a heavy tackle in training and cruel behaviour from his nemesis, Mr Kane, leads to Jimmy suffering a complete loss of confidence. How can he ever regain his love of the game – and fulfil his rugby dreams – if he is too afraid to tackle? In this new rugby adventure for Jimmy and his friends, James Hook and David Brayley examine concussion, tackling, friendship, loyalty and the true bravery that's needed to overcome your fears.

Leseprobe

‘A portrayal of a young person following their dream in the game, a cracking read’

ALUN WYN JONES

WALES AND THE BRITISH & IRISH LIONS

‘This is such a great story, I loved it. It’s so authentic about how young people chase their rugby dreams . . . just like I’ve done. A must-have book for all aspiring young rugby players’

LOUIS REES-ZAMMIT

WALES AND THE BRITISH & IRISH LIONS

‘Another fantastic rugby adventure from James Hook. Packed with positivity, it’s a story about the importance of never giving in, fighting to overcome life’s problems and remaining loyal. An inspirational read’

PAUL WILLIAMS

RUGBY WORLD

‘I loved this fantastic book! A thrilling rugby story and great to see such a strong female character as Kitty at the heart of the action! A must for any rugby fan – boy or girl’

JASMINE JOYCE

WALES AND TEAM GB 7S

‘Such a great and inspirational read. James captures the joys and challenges of schools rugby perfectly, with a story that is packed full of positive messages for young readers. A must read for anyone interested in rugby’

GEORGE NORTH

WALES AND THE BRITISH & IRISH LIONS

‘A tale of heart, friendship and never giving up … the perfect rugby book. Beautifully written and essential reading for rugby fans young and old’

BRYAN HABANA

SOUTH AFRICA, 2007 IRB WORLD PLAYER OF THE YEAR

‘Everything that’s good about rugby is in this book! The joy of playing for the love of the game but also with a view to making it as a pro. A must read.’

RHYS WEBB

WALES AND THE BRITISH & IRISH LIONS

‘Superb! A great story that will inspire every child who reads it. Full of positive messages and tips to improve your game, this book ticks every box if you’re looking for an entertaining story about trying to succeed in sport’

JONATHAN DAVIES

WALES AND GREAT BRITAIN

‘Loyalty, excitement, humour, plenty of rugby action and a masterclass of rugby tips makes this the perfect book for any rugby fan. Every chapter is a cliffhanger which makes you want to read on and on. I can’t recommend this inspirational book highly enough’

JUSTIN TIPURIC

WALES AND THE BRITISH & IRISH LIONS

‘A great book that upholds all the important life messages that make rugby the great game that it is. A fantastic story that emphasises the respect that is key to the game of rugby. Inspirational’

NIGEL OWENS

INTERNATIONAL REFEREE

‘Another instant rugby classic! Impact is the perfect follow up to Kick-Off – great, realistic rugby storylines which promote great resilience, loyalty and the deep joy of playing rugby’

LEE BYRNE

WALES AND THE BRITISH & IRISH LIONS

This edition first published in 2021 by

POLARIS PUBLISHING LTD

c/o Aberdein Considine

2nd Floor, Elder House

Multrees Walk

Edinburgh

EH1 3DX

Distributed by

Birlinn Limited

www.polarispublishing.com

Text copyright © James Hook and David Brayley, 2021

ISBN: 9781913538255

eBook ISBN: 9781913538262

The right of James Hook and David Brayley to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

The views expressed in this book do not necessarily reflect the views, opinions or policies of Polaris Publishing Ltd (Company No. SC401508) (Polaris), nor those of any persons, organisations or commercial partners connected with the same (Connected Persons). Any opinions, advice, statements, services, offers, or other information or content expressed by third parties are not those of Polaris or any Connected Persons but those of the third parties. For the avoidance of doubt, neither Polaris nor any Connected Persons assume any responsibility or duty of care whether contractual, delictual or on any other basis towards any person in respect of any such matter and accept no liability for any loss or damage caused by any such matter in this book.

Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and obtain their permission for the use of copyright material. The publisher apologises for any errors or omissions and would be grateful if notified of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of this book.

All names and trademarks are the property of their respective owners, which are in no way associated with Polaris Publishing Ltd. Use of these names does not imply any cooperation or endorsement.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British Library.

Designed and typeset by Polaris Publishing, Edinburgh

Printed in Great Britain by MBM Print SCS Limited, East Kilbride

CONTENTS

Prologue

1: Great Expectations

2: Fun in the Sun

3: Thrills and Skills

4: Preparing for Camp

5: First Blood

6: Tough to Tackle

7: Homeward Bound

8: Back on Home Turf

9: Kick Chase

10: Time to Talk

11: A New Kid in Town

12: The Ghost Story

13: Back to School

14: Reading for Pleasure

15: An App Masterclass

16: Family Ties

17: Anyone for Sevens?

18: Making Up the Numbers

19: Centre Stage

20: Rules are Rules

21: Aye, Aye, Captain Joseph

22: That’s Gotta Hurt!

23: Doctor, Doctor

24: On the Comeback Trail

25: 10,000 Hours

26: Aiming High

27: Bread and Butter Kicks

28: Even Christmas Day’s a Training Day

29: Starting Over

30: The Talking To

31: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

32: Gramp

33: Saved by the Bell

34: The Ladder to Success

35: The Lowest Point

36: Finding the Answer

37: The Garden of Eden

38: Tackling the Past

39: A Tough Break

40: A Bigger Picture

41: Visualising the Future

42: Enjoying Success

43: Opting Out

44: Jimmy’s Secret Garden

45: The Final Countdown

46: Finding Fekitoa

47: The Road to the Final

48: Crash, Bang, Wallop

49: Duty Calls

50: The Moment of Truth

51: Hands Down!

52: Arm Wrestling

53: The End Game

Epilogue

PROLOGUE

Eagles’ Elite Young Players’ Summer Academy Camp,

Underhill Complex.

Day Three.

Mike Green looked up from his plate of scrambled eggs and toast. Jimmy Joseph was sitting across the table, his bowl of fruit and yoghurt barely touched, a faraway look in his eyes.

‘I heard you had a tough day yesterday, mate,’ said Mike.

‘You could say that,’ said Jimmy, flatly. ‘I just don’t know what happened. The more I thought about tackling, the worse I got. I just wanted the day to end. My technique was awful.’

Jimmy didn’t feel that the time was yet right to share that there had been moments, plenty of them, when he’d felt scared. This was a completely new sensation to Jimmy, one of complete failure on a rugby field, and he had no idea how to deal with it.

‘I heard Mr Kane telling Mr Withey that he only asked you to make five tackles all day.’

‘Five!’ exclaimed Jimmy. ‘I did five in the first two minutes!’

‘Yeah, I know. I heard that big prop in your group saying that Kane gave you a bit of a beasting.’

‘It was brutal,’ replied Jimmy. ‘Do you know, I was the only player in our squad who didn’t get to carry and run with the ball at all yesterday? It was one-on-one tackling all morning and tackle bags all afternoon. And Kane didn’t even give me any coaching – he just shouted at me for being rubbish! If I’d known the camp was going to be like this, I’d never have come. I’d have much preferred to have gone to the one being run at the Wolves with Kitty, Matt and Manu. They all texted me last night to say how much fun they’re having – it sounds like it’s all games and fun skill sessions and stuff. Nothing like what Kane’s putting me through.’

Jimmy glanced down at his blood-stained (courtesy of his nose) and grass-stained (courtesy of his all-day tackling session) Eagles shirt, no longer as pristine as the day he’d received it.

‘I’d really been looking forward to this after the way our season finished,’ he continued. ‘Especially when my dad was able to find the money to help buy all the proper kit and it all started arriving. But it’s now turning into a bit of a nightmare.’

‘I know,’ nodded Mike, ‘but you’ve just got to hang in there, mate. It’ll be worth it. Playing for the Eagles is your dream, isn’t it? Well we’re here, this is the start. We’re on the ladder. You can’t let Kane ruin it.’

Jimmy nodded, but was quiet for a moment.

‘Yeah, but you know what,’ he said, at last, his shoulders slumping a little further. ‘Maybe I am too young to be here. If today’s anything like yesterday, I might just knock it on the head and call it quits.’

‘No, don’t do that!’ exclaimed Mike. ‘It’ll get better. Just give it a day or two and you’ll start getting used to everything and Kane will just get bored of picking on you. You’ll see.’

Jimmy appreciated Mike’s optimism and support, but it would prove sadly misplaced. The third day of the camp was Jimmy’s worst by a long way. The first hour was fitness, which Jimmy didn’t mind at all. But on every exercise or drill they were shown, Mr Kane would find fault in Jimmy’s efforts and send him down for five press ups.

When it came to kicking practice, which was one of Jimmy’s strengths, Mr Kane instructed Jimmy to stand behind the posts with the props and second rows, acting as a ball boy and running the balls back to the kickers. Jimmy couldn’t have been more dispirited.

Until the tackle bags came out to play again.

Kane immediately threw one to Jimmy as the afternoon session began, and he was lined up as cannon fodder again and again as the other boys – who were all a year or two older – ran at him at full tilt. For the next half an hour, he was bashed and knocked and pummelled. Not once was Jimmy allowed to relinquish the tackle bag, and again he became the only player of the squad not picked to run with the ball. But much worse, as player after player thumped into Jimmy and his tackle bag, so he began to resent each huge impact. That resentment quickly turned to dread, and that dread eventually turned to fear.

At the end of the session, when Mr Kane’s whistle blew for the final time, Jimmy threw down his tackle bag and just stared at it. His forearms were aching from the constant battering and the strength he’d needed to keep a grip of the tackle bag each time somebody smashed into him. Surely an elite rugby academy was supposed to be more enjoyable than this? Or actually involve him playing some actual rugby? But then all the other kids in his group were getting to do that. It was just him that was the odd one out. He felt very alone.

‘Well, we’ve found your weakness,’ said Mr Kane, sauntering past. He wasn’t even looking at Jimmy, but it was clear who he was talking to. ‘Can’t tackle . . . won’t tackle. Never mind, much more of the same tomorrow.’

Jimmy decided there and then, as he watched Mr Kane swagger off towards the doors to the changing rooms near the entrance to the Eagles’ training complex, his shoulders rocking as he went, that there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow. Forget this relentless slog. He was going home and he wasn’t coming back.

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

Four weeks earlier.

‘Hey Jimmy!’ shouted Kitty across the waste ground behind the row of terraced houses where they’d both lived since they were born.

Jimmy spun around at the sound of her voice and drilled a thirty metre kick towards her. Kitty crabbed sideways a couple of steps and then plucked the ball out of the air. She jogged towards him and then backheeled the ball over her head and into Jimmy’s hands.

‘Nobody likes a show-off,’ he said, grinning.

‘And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?!’ laughed Kitty as he started to do keepie-uppies.

‘Fair point,’ he laughed, just as he lost control.

Since their incredible victory in the Cluster Cup final at the end of the previous rugby season in May, Jimmy had become very much a local sporting celebrity. All the dark days of the bullying by Mike Green and the awful treatment at the hands of Mark Kane were nothing more than distant memories. It was exactly as his beloved grandfather, Will, had promised him at the height of Jimmy’s troubles . . . ‘Mark my words, Jimmy, once all this bullying is sorted – which it will be – it will all just become a memory that will fade to nothing in time. It’s dealing with it now that’s the problem; but once sorted, it’ll be gone from your life forever.’

Will’s wise words were proved correct. The way that Jimmy had handled himself in the final, as an on-field leader, and the way he had encouraged Mike to take that all-important last-second conversion, had transformed the way people viewed Jimmy, and in many ways, the way Jimmy viewed himself. From the headteacher, Mr Davies, to stand-in coach and local rugby legend, Peter Clement, to his former enemy himself, Mike Green, all had been fulsome in their praise of Jimmy. And it had to be said, it all had an effect on Jimmy. He would never have admitted it to anyone, but he’d always felt that he’d lived a little bit in the shadow of his brother, Jonny. Jimmy hero-worshipped his brother, but there had been times in the past when all Jonny’s rugby achievements – captaining Central Primary, captaining both the Year 7 and 8 first XVs at Bishopswood, attending all the age group Eagles camps – had seemed to heap an added pressure on Jimmy. And at the height of his bullying by Mike and treatment by Kane, Jimmy privately wondered if he’d ever get the chance to potentially match Jonny’s achievements. But now, Jimmy felt that he was very much on his way to equalling his brother’s accomplishments and was now clearly up and running in his fledgling rugby career. And, consequently, his confidence levels had shot through the roof.

‘You don’t really think I’m a show-off do you, Kit?’ asked Jimmy, flicking the ball to her. Kitty was the most honest, straight-talking person he knew and always said what she meant, even if her honesty sometimes hurt a little.

She laughed. ‘Nah, not really, Jim . . . it’s nice to see you being a bit more confident – and not just in rugby either, I’ve noticed in class and around school too.’

‘Not in a bad way, though?’ he asked, suddenly feeling anxious about her reply.

‘Nah,’ she said again. ‘I don’t think so. My dad’s always told me that it’s important to be confident in life. “Just don’t get too big for your boots,”’ she added, in a great imitation of her dad’s voice.

‘Let’s have a pact to make sure neither of us lets the other one ever get too cocky,’ said Jimmy.

‘Cool,’ she said, spinning the ball on her finger. ‘Just make sure you don’t confuse me using my outrageous skills with being cocky.’

‘You’re the definition of humility, Kit,’ said Jimmy dryly. But he knew they understood each other and that her dad had a point. His grandfather had always echoed a similar viewpoint, especially when he told Jimmy stories of his time in the Marines and the importance of team work and doing the right thing whenever you could.

‘And don’t worry, I’ll keep you grounded, cup final superstar,’ she added, starting to bounce on her toes. She shuffled her feet like a boxer and then tucked the ball under her arm and charged at him. Taken totally by surprise, Jimmy was brushed aside as she clattered into him and before he knew it, he was sitting in a heap on the dusty ground.

‘There you go superstar, as promised, I’ll always keep you grounded. But if you want to make it, I think you’re going to have to work on your tackle technique.’

They both roared with laughter, but little did either Kitty or Jimmy know just how prophetic her words would soon become.

FUN IN THE SUN

Kitty and Jimmy made their way from the waste ground beneath a cloudless summer sky. It was getting towards late morning and, on a Sunday, that would usually mean that lots of other kids would be roaming around down at The Rec so there was always a chance to strike up an impromptu game of rugby which could sometimes last for hours.

As they stepped through the wrought iron gates to The Rec, they were greeted by a loud cry of ‘Kitty! Jimmy boooooooooy!’

They looked to their right and saw Manu loping towards them.

‘Not in church today?’ called Jimmy.

‘Nah, Mum and Dad let me off this morning,’ replied Manu.

‘Mate, have you grown since Friday?’ enquired Kitty, ‘I swear you have!’

Manu did a little swerving sidestep just before he reached them, then flexed his bicep.

‘Growth spurts my mother says,’ he said with a grin before exchanging fist bumps. ‘She’s going crazy, I’m growing out of everything.’

Kitty laughed but Jimmy simply shook his head in wonder. He could barely believe the rapid changes in Manu’s body shape over the summer term. He was getting massive, just like his older brothers, his dad and his famous uncle. He looked at Manu’s increasingly defined biceps and increased shoulder width and glanced down at his own, relatively skinny, snow-white arms which seemed to hang like two threads of cotton from his red and black hooped rugby shirt.

How on earth am I supposed to compete with him on a rugby field when I look like this and he looks like that? thought Jimmy, ‘How are you getting so big?’ he asked, tossing his ball to Manu. ‘I’ve never once seen you lift a weight!’

‘My mother’s cooking, KFC and faith in the good Lord above,’ laughed Manu, making a sign of the cross with the ball and gazing skywards. ‘You can’t go wrong following that path.’

Jimmy laughed. ‘Perhaps I’d better stop eating salad cream on toast, then. Doesn’t seem to be making much of a difference to me!’

‘That would definitely be a good start!’ replied Manu. ‘Watching you eat that stuff makes me feel sick!’

‘Me too!’ agreed Kitty.

‘Well, I’m not quite ready to give it up just yet,’ said Jimmy, ‘and in any case, if I got as big as you, I wouldn’t be able to do this.’

And with that, Jimmy snatched the ball out of Manu’s grip, chipped it over his head, regathered it and then ran away with the ball held out at arm’s length, taunting his huge friend to come and get it. Manu sprang after Jimmy and just when it looked as if he was about to devour him, Jimmy slammed on the brakes for the briefest of moments, threw his body to the left, wrong-footing Manu, who jerked to grab him – only for Jimmy to swerve in the other direction to leave Manu grasping fresh air. Manu gave a shrill cry of both frustration and delight at his friend’s silky elusiveness, which turned into a roar of laughter as Jimmy dinked a little grubber that nutmegged Manu and bounced up perfectly into Kitty’s hands.

‘Speed beats brawn every day of the week,’ he said with a little swagger to his walk.

‘As I was saying, it’s so good that you’re not a show-off,’ said Kitty with a mischievous grin.

‘It’s not my fault,’ laughed Jimmy, ‘class will always out!’

Then, just as Manu was about to instigate the first pile-on of the day, another familiar voice called out. It was Matt.

‘Hey, you lot, come quick, the groundsman has just opened the gates to the Memorial Ground round the corner, he said we could come and take a look at the pitch if we’re sharp!’

Sharp was something all four of the friends were and they set off for the black, ornate gates of the Memorial Ground, as fast as their legs could carry them.

THRILLS AND SKILLS

What an hour the three friends experienced at the home of the Wolves. John the groundskeeper was much younger than Ralph who he had replaced at the start of the summer. Nobody knew how old Ralph actually was, but it seemed that he’d been groundsman at the Memorial Ground since it was built. In fact, Jimmy once told his grandfather that he had it on good authority that was the case. ‘Well,’ replied Will, ‘as the ground was built in 1913, I’m guessing Ralph actually looks a bit young for his age then!’

Ralph was a brilliant groundskeeper, but wasn’t exactly great with the kids. Even when Jimmy had started becoming a ball-boy for the Wolves, thanks to Malcolm, his dad, Ralph would always find some reason or other to bark at Jimmy for standing on the wrong part of the touchline – ‘How’s the blinking grass ever going to grow back there with you standing on it?’ Ralph would shout with exasperation at Jimmy. ‘Stand on the red-gravel until the ball comes your way, you’re plenty close enough to the pitch there.’

But John was completely different. He was only in his twenties and used all the skills he’d learned working on his uncle’s farm since he was a teenager to become an expert groundskeeper. Also, as he was a lifelong fan of the Wolves himself, he knew exactly what the club meant to people, especially the younger ones. As a result, and because of his friendship with Matt’s dad, he’d often tip Matt the wink when he felt he could allow the youngsters to spend some time on the hallowed ground. And today was one of those times.

‘Why is the grass so long, John?’ asked Matt when the three arrived, running straight up to the edge of the pitch, just in front of the large terraced bank under the scoreboard at the far end of the ground.

‘I seeded it about two weeks ago to get grass growing on the bare patches that appear after a long season. Can’t cut it for a while yet, so make sure you don’t set those big clumsy feet of yours on there!’ laughed John.

Matt blushed, quite proud that John always seemed to have a joke around with him.

‘But you’re in luck, I cut the training paddock over there yesterday,’ said John, pointing to a perfect grassy area that lay beyond the terracing at the west corner of the ground. ‘You can have a run around on that if you like. Only for a little while mind, I’m only gonna be here for the next hour or so. I think there might be some training gear lying around too. A couple of the first-team boys came down last night, and knowing them, they wouldn’t have put all the kit back in the training cabin.’

The four friends didn’t need a second invitation, and bolted to the far side of the pitch. When they arrived, as John had suspected, they saw some kit had been left out on the perfect shamrock-green paddock. The paddock itself was, in area, about the size of half a rugby pitch, but was more of a long, oblong shape with curved corners. It was used by the club to carry out smaller drills and practice sessions, if they didn’t need the large expanse of the pitch. But for four ten-year-old aspiring rugby players, it was plenty big enough.

Jimmy’s eye caught an odd, orange ball-type object nestling in the grass towards the edge of the paddock, not far from the high, whitewashed exterior wall that surrounded the whole ground.

‘What’s this?’ asked Jimmy, picking it up. It looked like a tennis ball, only slightly bigger, was made of hard rubber and had odd circular bumps all around it.

‘Give us a look, Jim,’ called Matt.

Jimmy tossed it to Matt, who looked equally confused as he rotated it in his hands, examining it carefully.

‘Chuck it against the wall!’ bellowed a voice from the other side of the pitch. It was John.

‘Chuck it against the wall,’ he repeated. ‘Bet you won’t be able to catch it!’

Matt turned towards the towering white wall above him. He looked down at the ball, then gently tossed it towards the wall, expecting it to bounce straight back at him. Instead, when the ball made contact with the wall, one of the six bumps made the ball spit back to his right. Matt lunged to catch it but missed by a mile.

‘Told you!’ cried John, his cackling laughter booming around the empty ground. ‘The players use it to hone their reflexes – it’ll be good for you all to try!’

‘Game time!’ shouted Kitty. ‘Come on. Let’s see who’s best . . . bet it’s me!’

‘You’re far too competitive for your own good,’ said Jimmy with a resigned smile as Kitty ran over to the ball, looking at it closely before tossing it at the wall. Despite it coming back at her at a very odd angle to her left, she shot out her left hand and just managed to pluck it from the air.

‘Easy! Told you, I’ll beat all of you at this!’

‘No way!’ shouted Manu. ‘Come on, let’s have a go. In fact, let’s make up some rules.’

So, over the next few minutes, as each of the friends got to grips with the amazing bouncing reaction ball, they came up with a game. Standing side by side and starting with Kitty on the left-hand side, each had three throws at the wall. A one-handed catch got you twenty points. Two-handed was ten. Then you got five if you managed to get a hand to it without catching it. Anything else was zero. They played for twenty minutes, diving left and right, forward and back, their reflexes seeming to improve all the time and they quickly forgot the initial rule of just three throws each. But once Kitty had reached 160 points, the boys decided to wave the white flag.

‘You’re completely ridiculous!’ said Jimmy with an exasperated tone to his voice, slumping down onto the edge of the paddock turf. ‘You hardly dropped one!’

‘And I only caught one!’ grumbled Manu. ‘What a stupid game!’

‘Rugby’s about more than muscle power, Manu,’ laughed Kitty, tossing Manu the ball. ‘You need to practise your reflexes!’

‘Yeah, clearly . . .’ replied Manu forlornly.

‘Hey, look at this!’ shouted Matt from the far corner of the paddock, lifting above his head what could only be described as a large fishing net.

‘Oh, I know what that is!’ exclaimed Manu, more than happy to leave the reflex ball behind. ‘My dad showed me once when we went to watch my uncle training at Bristol Bears. It’s a net to hold up as a target for a hooker to practise their line out throws. Hold it up high, Matt.’

Matt did his best, but he wasn’t strong enough to hold the pole steady above him. Jimmy trotted over to help.

‘Weakling,’ said Jimmy as he arrived.

‘Pipe cleaner arms,’ replied Matt. They laughed and then hoisted the pole as high as they could.

‘Cool,’ said Kitty. ‘But only if you’re a hooker – which none of us are.’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Manu, and instructed the boys to lower the pole to the horizontal, then to move up to the top of the pole, almost to the net, holding it just a metre or so above the ground.

‘Passing drill!’ he shouted. ‘Ten points for getting it in the net, five for hitting the rim, nothing for a miss. First to 200 is the winner!’

‘You’re on!’ shouted Kitty. ‘Me first.’

She scooped up the ball, turned sideways to the net, which was being held about five metres away, planted her left foot and delivered a neat spin pass straight into the heart of the net. The boys all groaned. Manu was next and probably not really understanding his own strength, heaved a pass that flew like a bullet, but a good metre over the net, sailing over the paddock grass before crashing into the wall.

‘Whoa, steady big boy!’ laughed Jimmy. ‘You don’t have to try to break the sound barrier! Remember what Peter Clement said to us in training before the cup final?’

‘Accuracy before power when passing!’ shouted Kitty over her shoulder as she jogged off to retrieve the ball.

When she returned, they all continued taking turns, and again, soon lost themselves in the enjoyment of the game.

Kitty was again triumphant, reaching 200 points after twenty-four attempts, missing the net just four times. At that point, Matt was on 140, Jimmy 175 and Manu 120.

‘I hate rugby and I hate girls!’ Manu exclaimed in mock disgust.

‘That’s no way to deal with defeat,’ scolded Kitty, in jest. ‘Like Jimmy said earlier, brains and speed always beats brawn!’

The friends all laughed.

‘I wish I’d just gone to church now,’ sighed Manu as he sank to the grass. ‘At least I get respect there.’

The friends laughed even more.

PREPARING FOR CAMP

The next four weeks flew by for everyone. Miss Ayres, still acting as temporary teacher to the Year 5s, combined interesting learning with fun so well that the final weeks of term went by in the blink of an eye. Then, in the last week of July, everything in Jimmy’s life turned to the thoughts of his upcoming rugby camp. Two weeks of heaven, playing rugby with the best players and best coaches of the region. Jimmy’s grandfather had made a point of emphasising just how privileged he was to be selected, especially as the Eagles had bent their rules to allow Jimmy to attend the summer camp a year early. ‘They never even did that for Jonny; that’s how much they think of you. So make sure you give it your best shot . . . show them all that Jimmy Joseph magic, and knock them all out!’

Sadly for Jimmy, it would turn out that he was the one in most danger of being knocked out.

*

The whole process of Jimmy joining the camp had started so well. Because he’d received a personal invite from the head of the Academy, Stuart Withey, following that stunning performance in the end-of-season Cluster Cup victory, Mr Withey had been in constant touch with Jimmy’s mum over the summer, reassuring her that Jimmy would be well looked after.

Watching in the stands that day, Mr Withey had been hugely impressed by Jimmy’s efforts in the cup final, but he had been completely unaware of all the off-field troubles Jimmy had faced, such as being alienated by his teacher and rugby coach, Mr Mark Kane, who was now a member of the Eagles Academy staff. Nor had he been aware of the bullying issues Jimmy had faced with Mike Green. Instead, Stuart Withey had just watched a spectacular individual performance that had convinced him to break one of the Academy’s rules so that Jimmy could be invited to their summer camp. Usually, the camp was only open to players from the area who were in Year 6 and above. Jimmy would be Year 6 in the first week of September, but as the camp took place during the first two weeks of August, and Jimmy was still only ten, technically, he was still Year 5, making him a full year younger than anyone else attending.

‘Mrs Joseph,’ Mr Withey wrote in one of his many emails to her, ‘I just wanted to take this opportunity to let you know that because of Jimmy’s undoubted potential, we have made special dispensation for him to attend the Summer Camp at The Eagles’ Underhill Training Facility Complex. I would like to reassure you that I will be supervising Jimmy’s welfare personally, and whilst the camp will be organised by our new Regional Youth Rugby Co-ordinator, Mark Kane, I have spoken with him and discussed that Jimmy’s progression and rugby development will be handled with care and with the utmost attention to his young age compared to the other players. He has agreed with this.’

Jimmy laughed humourlessly when his mum had read that part of the email to him.

‘Yeah, right,’ he said, with a shake of his head. ‘He’ll probably have me doing twenty laps of the field backwards whilst the others are doing all the fun drills!’

Jimmy’s mum was concerned that Mark Kane’s involvement was going to have a negative impact on her son, but the repeated emails, calls and texts she’d received from Mr Withey had helped to settle her worries.

As for Jimmy, so had the kit.

It seemed like every week he was getting new gear.

Despite initially saying to his mum that the Eagles would provide all kit, that had quickly changed. In one of Mr Withey’s early emails, he apologised for a change in the policy of the region. Instead of free kit, all parents would now have to pay for 50% of the cost which he blamed on funding cutbacks. Initially, Catherine was annoyed by the change, and Jimmy heard her on the phone to his dad complaining about the extra expense. But Malcolm had apparently said that he would make sure that his son would have everything he needed and told Catherine that he was in a position, following a recent promotion at work, to cover the extra cost of the kit.

Jimmy was so pleased to hear this news, not just because he’d be getting a heap of new kit, but also because the tone of the conversation seemed to mark another step forward in the improving relationship between his mum and dad. Some years earlier, something bad had happened in their marriage that had ended it overnight. For the next few years, the split and subsequent divorce had been very bitter with both his mum and dad blaming each other for the break-up. But in recent times things had begun to improve and Jimmy was thrilled to hear them talking so constructively about the dilemma around his kit. And what fantastic kit it was!

The first things to arrive in the post were the tracksuit and training tops. All made by Under Armour, personally fitted to measurements that Jimmy’s dad had provided and all with a hand-stitched logo of the club’s white eagle emblem. He gently traced the embroidered eagle with the tips of his fingers, imagining he was wearing it in a first-team match in the European Cup.

The tops also carried a squad number on the other side of the chest. In Jimmy’s case it was ‘10’. He was so proud that he put all the training kit on and walked round to his grandparents’ house to show it all off. As ever, Will and Betty made a huge fuss of him and made him pose for photographs in the garden.

The week after the training kit arrived, the Eagles backpack turned up which contained a water bottle, a notepad and pen, four pairs of pale blue Eagles socks and two pairs of pristine white Eagles shorts.

But there was still a missing link to all this wonderful kit. Boots. His dad had said that he wasn’t able to get Jimmy new boots in time for the start of camp, but that he’d definitely be able to get them by the start of the season. Jimmy understood, but he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. Seeing the look on his face, Catherine stepped in and offered to get a cheap pair to be going on with – but Jimmy refused. He didn’t want to appear ungrateful to his mum and dad, but the right boots were so important to Jimmy as he knew that everyone at the camp would no doubt have a pair that would make his scruffy, almost worn out old ones look ridiculous.

A couple of days later, Jimmy was moping around at home when his grandfather popped in to say hello.

‘What’s up, Jim?’ he asked, seeing the distracted look in Jimmy’s eyes.

Jimmy explained the situation, but was at pains to point out that he understood the pressure on his parents money-wise, and that he was grateful for all the kit, but that the boots were really key.

‘So what boots would you get if you could?’

Jimmy grabbed his mum’s iPad and flicked to an open tab on Safari which had his ideal pair.

Will whistled. ‘Very smart,’ he said. ‘But they’re pretty expensive, aren’t they?’

‘I know,’ said Jimmy, quickly tapping the home button on the iPad which instantly removed the boots from the screen. ‘It’s no problem really, I can wait.’

Less than a week later, there was a knock at the front door. Jimmy was on his mum’s iPad, again, watching a documentary about the All Blacks that was on Amazon Prime. He was so completely engrossed by what he was seeing and hearing about the greatest rugby team on the planet, that he missed the knock.

Anyone who knew anything about rugby knew that the All Blacks were the best rugby team in the world, probably of all time, and the documentary was giving Jimmy a behind-the-scenes view of what made them so good. Even players who had sixty or seventy caps didn’t take their places in the team for granted and tried their absolute best at all times. But one thing that their coach, Steve Hansen, said really stood out for Jimmy.

While he was speaking to the All Blacks squad, the coach asked them, ‘Do you want to be an All Black or a great All Black? That’s up to you, guys.’

That one simple question made a huge impact on Jimmy and he knew exactly what the coach meant. It was one thing being an All Black, a pretty amazing thing actually, but you shouldn’t settle for being ‘just’ an All Black. No, instead you should give everything to be a brilliant one, one that will be remembered forever – that should be every All Black’s aim. Jimmy had loved that. It was exactly what he wanted to do. He was so proud of being picked to be an Eagle at the camp, but that wasn’t enough. Jimmy wanted to be the best one there. That was his aim. He was determined to be a great junior Eagle, not just a good one.

So engrossed was Jimmy in the documentary, that he was startled when the delivery driver, fed up knocking on the front door, tapped on his window and shouted through the double glazing, ‘Parcel for Jimmy Joseph.’

Jimmy was confused. His mother hadn’t told him to expect a parcel and Jimmy himself definitely hadn’t ordered one. He opened the front door and signed on the delivery man’s electronic device.

He took the parcel inside and read the label carefully. There, clear as day, on the pre-printed label was ‘Jimmy Joseph’ followed by his address.

He ripped open the parcel and his jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Jimmy whipped his glasses off to take a closer look. In the box contained within the parcel were a pair of Adidas Predator boots, exactly the same as the ones he’d been fantasising about on the website.

He picked up one of the boots and held it up to the light from the front window. He was transfixed. Then he replaced one carefully in the box and ran his hands over the instep of the other. All along the inner area of the surface of the boot were small rubber bumps that were designed to grip the rugby ball when it was being kicked.

There were lots of different styles and versions of football and rugby boots on the market, but there were three types designed specifically for rugby: a forward’s boot, an outside back’s boot and a kicker’s boot. These were undoubtedly kicker’s boots. And he loved them.

He tried to work out who’d ordered them for him. Then the penny dropped. It must’ve been his mum. She’d made a point a few days earlier about what size his feet were and said it was because there was an offer on at Asda for ‘Back to School’ shoes, but she must have been secretly referring to these incredible boots all along!

Jimmy’s excitement levels were higher than the howling Wolves that sat atop the posts on the Memorial Ground and he desperately wanted to show them off, but he was home alone. Then he thought of his grandparents. Bolting through his front door and heading for theirs, he nearly knocked over his grandmother when he burst in, just as she was taking a mug of tea into the front room for his grandfather.

‘Oh, sorry, Grams!’ cried Jimmy, ‘but I’ve got something I have to show you both.’ Betty smiled as she glanced down at the boots. ‘Oooh, they look nice, son, take them in and show your grandfather, he was hoping they’d come in time.’

‘Wait. What? You knew, Grams?’

Her smile turned into a grin. ‘We couldn’t let you go to your first camp wearing worn out boots, could we? Think of them as an early Christmas present.’

‘Oh Grams,’ said Jimmy, wrapping his grandmother in the tightest of hugs. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘I do,’ called Will from his chair in the front room, ‘put your grandmother down and come out to the back garden with me. There’s some flower beds that need weeding and you can help me in lieu of payment!’

‘Of course I will, Gramp,’ said Jimmy. ‘I’ll weed them for you forever for getting me these!’

‘Careful now, I might just take you up on that!’

Jimmy spent the rest of the afternoon helping his grandfather tidy up every corner of the garden while listening to Will’s old army stories. And every few minutes he glanced over at his new boots sitting proudly on the garden wall. Jimmy didn’t know if a person could actually love an inanimate object, but he reckoned he might well have fallen in love with those boots.