Chapter 19
Standing in the middle of the pitch at The Cliff, I am pummelled by a memory of when I was about six years old and Mum had brought me out here to watch Dad practice.
We were allowed on the pitch, and I remember picking several blades of grass and putting them in my pocket with big dreams of becoming a footy player just like my dad.
He looked so massive out here with all the other players.
I remember thinking how cool it was that they got to play football every day for their job.
And Mum looked so happy watching Dad play. Her eyes were so big and excited, like she was watching her own personal superhero save the world. I remember thinking I couldn’t wait for her to see me play someday so she would look at me the same way.
My memory fades as soon as I see my three brothers striding toward me.
Tanner and Camden are mirror images of each other with their blonde hair and large frames.
They aren’t identical twins, but they were difficult to tell apart until Tanner grew out his hair and beard.
Booker looks a lot more like me. The two of us take after our dad’s darker features while the twins and Vi look more like our mum’s Swedish heritage.
The three of them are kitted out in warm, footy active wear.
I smile and wave them over to where I’m standing with several bags of kid-sized footballs.
This is a big day for Kid Kickers. I’ve been wanting to extend this program outside of Manchester for some time now, and we open our facility to potential sponsors today.
They can check out the facility, see how camps are run, and decide what level of contributor they want to be.
Helping with this has been a welcome distraction from Sloan.
Since I couldn’t handle today alone, I asked my brothers to join me in running a session.
My agent thought it would be a good promo for the World Cup, which I couldn’t care less about.
The Cup isn’t about promos. It’s about skill.
Regardless, I knew having them here would help bring in the sponsors, and they were all too willing to jump on a train.
Tanner jogs ahead of the pack. I brace myself as he jumps up into my arms, wrapping his long legs around my waist in a ridiculous embrace.
“My broseph!” he bellows in a pitch similar to that of a whining dog.
I shove him off of me and grumble, “You are such a wanker.”
Camden smiles happily and claps me on the back in a big hug. Booker comes in next, giving me that small baby brother smile of his even though the prat is taller than me.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” I state with a big exhale, trying to expel my nerves.
“Anytime I can get out of training and see you, I’m all over it,” Camden says with a playful punch on the shoulder. “And it’s for a great cause, which is really cool.”
Tanner elbows me. “He’s trying to sound so mature and noble, but the creep was sexting his wife the entire time on the train. So embarrassing.” Tanner rolls his eyes dramatically like he didn’t just jump into my arms in the middle of a football pitch a minute ago.
Booker shakes his head at the two of them. “I was more mature than both of them as an infant.”
I clap Booker on the back and tease, “That’s not a huge achievement.”
Tanner stretches his arms out wide, clearly not the least bit put off by our jokes. “So, how is today going to go? Kids bloody love me, so all of you should prepare to be totally outshined.”
I smile and shake my head. “Well, we’re going to keep it nice and easy because they just got out of school, so they’re probably a bit knackered.
Basically, we’ll each get sectioned off with a group of about ten kids.
Two boys teams and two girls teams. We have five- to seven-year-olds, so just play some fun games and easy drills.
No scrimmaging or anything competitive. The point of today is to have fun, and I asked you guys here because no one knows how to have a laugh better than you lot. ”
“Too bloody right!” Camden states, pulling a piece of paper out of the pocket of his Tiro trousers. “I have the best games in mind.”
Tanner’s face falls. “You prepared?”
“That’s what Gareth’s email said to do.” Camden laughs heartily. “Plus, I’ve never coached kids before. I needed to read up on some ideas.”
“Shit!” Tanner mumbles, turning accusatory eyes at me. “I didn’t see an email!”
“I texted you to check your email, Tanner,” Booker chastises with a heavy sigh.
“I only read part of your text. You’re a wordy wanker. Who has time to read all of that?” Tanner grumbles and moves closer to Camden. “Share your notes with me, Cam.”
“No!” Camden jerks his paper back. “You were just bragging about outshining all of us. I’m not giving away my hard work.”
Tanner pins Camden with a serious look. “It’s for the kids, broseph. You should share.”
“You’re one to talk!” Camden exclaims. “You made an art form out of the Bacon Sandwich Rule! You licked stuff you hated just because you didn’t want me to have it!”
Tanner puts his hands on his hips. “This is for the kids!” he repeats, slowly moving closer to Camden’s paper with his hand outstretched.
Camden rolls his eyes. “God, why are you like this?”
Camden hands over the paper and Tanner begins scrolling through the list at lightning speed. “It’s a gift.”
Camden and Tanner each take one of the boys teams while Booker and I take the girls teams. The four of us divide into our own sections marked off on the pitch. The plan is to start with some fun games before diving into drills.
Several suits file into the sideline accompanied by Kid Kickers staff members who are there to answer questions about the daily running of the facility.
I am here to be the headliner. Same goes for my brothers.
Our positions in the sport of football give us the power to really make a difference, and that’s what we’re all here for today.
The little girls are all giggling and messing about, so I blow my whistle.
Their wide eyes snap to mine curiously. Most of them don’t have a clue who I am, which makes things a lot easier.
The older kids would have been too star-struck to perform appropriately for the potential sponsors, so we opted for younger groups today.
“I want everyone to take a football and form a line,” I state, grabbing the bag of balls and tipping it upside down to empty.
The girls flounce over with their swishing ponytails, bright-coloured socks, and shin pads. A few showed up without guards on, but our facility has a supply on hand for them.
I direct a couple of girls where to stand. The others begin to fall in line, but one girl stands back from the pack, frowning at the others who are fighting over various balls.
I squat down next to the little brunette. “Are you okay there, kid?”
She nods, but the puzzled look to her brows goes nowhere. “These are called soccer balls, too, right?”
She blinks her big brown eyes at me. The adorably serious expression lifts the corners of my mouth. “In some parts of the world, yes.”
She nods her head. “Do they play soccer in America?”
“Yes, they do,” I answer with a smile. “They call it soccer and we call it football, but it’s the same sport.”
She chews on the tip of her thumb and mumbles, “That’s what I was afraid of. I’m not sure I should be playing this.”
“Why not? Don’t you like football?” I ask, grabbing a ball and tossing it in my hands in front of her.
“Yes, I think so, but my mummy wouldn’t like me playing.”
“Did she not sign the waiver?” I ask, glancing over to the sideline for a staff member. If a parent didn’t sign a waiver, this little girl can’t play.
“My dad signed it,” she says, redirecting my focus to her.
I stand up and hold the ball out to her. “Then we should be okay. You only need one parent’s signature.”
She squeezes the green neon ball in her hands and stares down at it intently as she asks, “What if I get hurt? Mummy says football can be kind of rough.”
The sad slump of her shoulders nearly breaks my heart. I squat down in front of her again, and she pins me with her innocent eyes that are probably exactly what got her father to bring her today against her mother’s wishes. It’d be bloody impossible to refuse this little beauty anything she wanted.
I tuck a finger under her chin and lift it to me with a soft smile. “Cheer up, kid. Injuries are part of being an athlete, but we’re going to be taking it easy today. Today is just about fun. We won’t get rough, I promise.”
“Just fun?” She pins me with a look like she’s not sure she can trust me.
I smile and make an X over my chest. “Cross my heart.”
Her eyes alight with this new information “That is excellent news.” Without warning, she drops the ball and wraps her arms around my neck in an unexpected hug, nearly knocking me backwards in the process.
She releases me, grabs her ball, and jogs over to the horde of girls all waiting. I give Brown Eyes a thumbs up when she finds a place to stand, then instruct the girls to have a seat on their footballs.
A photographer comes over and begins snapping photos as I squat down and explain what we’re going to do. “We’re going to play a game called Sharks and Minnows. The minnows will each have a ball while the sharks try to steal them. Now, who wants to be a shark?”
All the girls’ hands shoot up into the air, except for Brown Eyes.
“You can’t all be sharks, so I’ll have to count you off. Ones are sharks, twos are minnows.”
I begin counting them off, and Brown Eyes ends up being a shark. “I really wanted to be a minnow,” she pouts.
“Everyone will get a chance to be both.”
She sighs heavily. “Okay, I’ll just have to try extra hard to get a ball because I really want to kick a ball. I’ve never kicked a ball before.”
“You’ll have lots of chances to kick a ball today,” I huff with a laugh.