Free Golden Goal by Dan Freedman

tricks – stealing Jamie’s phone and sending a text to Jamie’s mum which simply read: I want 2 kiss u – Jamie had still tried to laugh it off. Not that his mum and Jeremy had been too amused…
    And now here they were, together again at Hawkstone. Except this time all the chips were stacked in Dillon’s favour.
    Jamie realized he had to at least pretend to be friendly.
    â€œAll right, Dil—”
    â€œHa ha! I knew it was you! So what happened at Foxborough, then? I thought you were supposed to be the next big thing?!”
    â€œI got—”
    â€œMan, how sad are you?! You’re like nothing now. And I almost didn’t recognize you ’cos you’re so fat! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
    He still had that same high-pitched hyena laugh that had tormented Jamie when they were at school.
    Dillon jogged back towards his teammates, turning only to chuck his drink carton as far away as possible. He knew Jamie would be the one to have to go and pick it up.
    As soon as Jamie got home that night, he went straight into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He couldn’t get Dillon’s insults out of his mind.
    He struggled to pull his clinging wet tracksuit top over his shoulders and head. When he finally managed it, he tossed the sodden top on to the floor.
    As Jamie looked up, his reflection in the mirror gave him a shock. He hadn’t studied his body in the mirror for months.
    He twisted his white, freckled form from side to side, eyeing every inch of himself in the glass.
    He softly patted his belly. Gone was the taut, hard stomach that he’d gained by doing hundreds of sit-ups during his Foxborough days. Instead, here was the flabby result of all the ice cream and chips that he’d tucked away mindlessly during his months as a couch potato.
    Jamie traced his hands up his body, towards his chest. He squeezed the loose flesh. He couldn’t believe it. He even had the beginning of man boobs!
    Dillon was right. Jamie was fat.
    He ran his fingers through his thick, spiky hair.
    â€œRight! Time for a change!” he said to himself, with a new determination in his voice.
    Then he picked up Jeremy’s clippers and began that change.

 
    Â 
    â€œSomeone’s had a haircut!” said Archie when Jamie got to work on Monday. “But if you wanted to borrow the mower, you only had to ask!”
    â€œWhat d’you mean?” asked Jamie.
    â€œOh, doesn’t matter,” chuckled Archie, his laughter slowly subsiding. “Gaffer says they’re playing five-a-side today, so we need to move these goalposts over to that field. Follow me.”
    Jamie watched as Archie hauled the set of goals above his head and began the arduous trek to the other side of the training ground.
    Jamie tried to lift his goals. But they were seriously heavy; Jamie pulled, but he couldn’t get them off the ground.
    Archie looked around and waved him on impatiently. Jamie didn’t know what to do. There was no way he could say he was too weak. This was his job. Somehow, he had to lift these goals.
    He bent his knees and crouched down beneath the crossbar. He exhaled a few times, as he’d seen weightlifters do. Then, with a huge push of his lungs and a rush of power through his arms and shoulders, he raised the goals high above his head. A little unsteady at first, he soon found his balance and followed in the direction Archie was heading.
    Jamie’s whole body ached by the time they reached the training pitch and he and Archie carefully laid the goals down at either end. His thighs, which had taken the brunt of the carrying, were throbbing so hard, it felt as though they might burst through Jamie’s tracksuit bottoms.
    Jamie breathed out and wrung his wrists to try and get the blood flowing again.
    â€œWhat?” teased Archie. “You’re not out of puff, are you? That was nothing!”
    Jamie shook his head. He didn’t want Archie to know