It was thrilling for me to hear that, and we all took a massive confidence boost from it. We carried on our fine form beating Landon Borough, East Athletics and Livton but so did our closest rivals, meaning it was a winner take all match against Wolfborough, at home to decide who would make the play-offs.

  I was excited. It was my first real taste of what a senior cup final might feel like. Win and we were into the end-of-season four team play-off; lose and the season was over right then and there.

  ‘How are you feeling mate?’ It was Lucas. He looked slightly worried, well, he looked more worried than usual. Lucas didn’t really do worry.

  ‘I’m ok, I’m excited. It’s going to be a big game’ I replied. ‘How are you feeling mate?’

  ‘I’m fine Jack,’ Lucas replied. ‘We’ve come so far this season. Do you really think we can do this?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I totally trust you, and all the lads. We’ve been magnificent. I just hope I can live up to everyone’s expectations’ I told him.

  ‘Just treat it like any other game, ok?’ he said. ‘We’ve got this.’

  I knew he was right. We had Dex back in the squad after his three-match suspension and we all felt good. Even if Dex’s career was all but over, whatever happened next he was still a legend on and off the pitch. We all loved him and loved having him around. He always knew the right thing to say and when to say it. Whilst Thiago was the better player now, Dex was still my favourite to play with. He and Mac had been my mentors through the season; Mac with his noisy encouragement, and Dex leading by example on and off the pitch.

  I could not have asked for any better.

  Wolfborough were a good team, we knew that, but we knew we were better. We just had to show it, prove it to them, to the supporters, and the TV stations who had picked up the match to broadcast live. We started like men possessed, attacking at every opportunity, down the left, down the right, balls over the top. After 30 minutes I could see a couple of the Wolves’ players were taking a knee. Stealing extra seconds at the restarts, just to catch their breath. We were relentless, wave after wave of blue and yellow shirts poured forward. It was like we had two or three extra players at times, and when Dex rattled the post, the ball rebounded kindly to Thiago who smashed it into the roof of the unguarded net 1-0.

  BOOM! We were on our way. But no one was happy to settle for just one. We went for them again and again. A second goal followed from a lovely strike from Dex, picking up my carefully threaded pass before finding the bottom corner, and early in the second half I managed to scuff home Fin’s cross-come-shot for 3-0. Wolfborough just couldn’t get going. We didn’t let them, Lucas hardly had a save to make, certainly nothing difficult. We were in the play-offs. One game away from Wembley, and just two wins for an immediate and unlikely return to the Premier league.

  We were drawn against Newford Celtic, and as we had finished sixth and last of the four teams, we would be away from home for the semi-final.

  ‘Ok chaps,’ Walter boomed out after the Wolves game, ‘We’ve done the easy bit, we’ve got to the business end of the season, and we are still in with a chance. A big chance. I do not want to finish empty handed. We will go out and flatten this Celtic side. We’ve beaten them away already this season and we can do it again. I believe in you, we all do. Take the opportunity, they won’t give it to you. YOU have to take it,’ he said as he pointed around his head to the blue and yellow wall of noise that was bouncing and singing our names.

  ‘Do it for them, do it for us, but most of all, do it for yourselves. Never, ever quit!’

  I wished the game was right now. I was ready to play another 90 minutes straight away. I felt great. I felt good. I couldn’t stop scoring goals. I was bubbling over with excitement.

  One win and we are at Wembley, I thought. It was so close I could virtually touch it.

  “Talent may win us a few games, but teamwork and hard work will win us trophies.” (Mac)

  We went into the semi-final on one of the best unbeaten runs in the club’s history. We hadn’t lost in the last 22 games, (24 if you include the Middlethian cup game which technically was a draw). We had scored buckets of goals, and despite Thiago missing a large chunk of the season he was on 20 goals. I, quite incredibly, and to me, unbelievably, was the club’s top scorer on 24 goals. I would become the youngest Accies player ever to reach 25 should I bag one more, but this would be a massive bonus.

  We were all totally focused on the job in hand.

  Mac as usual was barking at everyone.

  ‘Never give up, never quit. Run till your legs come off! Don’t stop. If it hurts you, it hurts them more.’

  As the club captain, Mac took his role as motivator very seriously. The younger lads, Fin, Zac, Monty and Lucas, were still utterly terrified of him, but now I knew him better than they did, and under his fierce front he was kind and generous. (As a present after our final league match, he’d bought me a new pair of trainers, expensive ones!).

  ‘Jacko,’ he boomed ‘I’ve felt bad since I ruined your last ones. Have these! I promise not to steal the laces this time. You’ve been a superstar for us this season.’

  ‘Thanks Mac,’ I replied. ‘And I promise not to nutmeg you again. At least, not more than once a day!’

  We both grinned. We were in the best frame of mind possible, and on a warm Wednesday evening at the Newford Celtic stadium, we played like we had wings on our backs and jet boosters in our heels.

  The first half though was evenly contested, a couple of chances each, with both keepers doing enough to keep it scoreless. But we had the better of the possession. We were moving the ball with purpose, and much faster than they were. We were running harder and were clearly more committed. We looked like a much stronger team going into the half-time interval. Our style of play was aggressive and constant. The other teams were chasing shadows and using up all their energy just to stay in the game. Sooner or later, they would make a mistake. I was sure that it was going to happen today, and soon. And so, I was proved right.

  Zac and Fin had chased the Celtic full-back into the corner, and his sliced clearance landed in front of a charging Thiago, who, after controlling the ball on his chest, volleyed an unstoppable rocket past the Newford keeper for 1-0. When Mac’s thumping header from a corner made it 2-0 the game was all but over. The Newford players had been dragged all over the pitch and had nothing left to give. We saw out the last 15 minutes easily, even adding one more as Zac burst through on one of his typically surging runs to make it 3-0.

  We were off to Wembley and the play-off final. One game away from a return to what I thought was the best division in the world.

  We would face Park Lane United. They had seen off Sanford Warriors in the other semi-final easily. They had been very disappointed not to win automatic promotion, and were easily the favourites to win and go up, despite the form we were in. Park had spent a lot of money in the summer and were on a mission to get back to the Premier League. They had the best young players outside of the top division, as well as some very good senior players who were too good not to be in the Premier League. We were the underdogs for sure, and they let us know it. Their manager telling anyone who would listen that they were much better than us, and they would win, and win comfortably.

  Walter didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.

  ‘I do not want to start a war of words,’ he told the media. We could tell he was boiling underneath, but he kept his emotions in check – just! He continued, ‘I prefer to let my team do the talking. He thinks his team is good, and I agree with him. They are. But we have a very good team also. Let’s just see who does the talking on Saturday evening, after the match.’

  Our team was again unchanged for the final, which was great as we knew each other’s game so well now. As we trooped out in a long line, we could see that most of the stadium was blue and yellow. Our fans were the best, well, I’ve always thought so. When I was younger, I learnt quickly that when a team came to our home stadium and beat us, it was a big deal, but that we had to stay and applaud them off the pitch.

  ‘It’s called being humble son,’ my dad had told me. ‘We celebrate when we win, and we do usually win here, a lot. But when we lose, we applaud our team for trying and doing their best, but we also let the other team know who we are and what we believe in, by letting them know that we appreciate their efforts, because it won’t happen again!’

  I looked over the hordes of Accies supporters; there was a pure white section at the far end, matching the gleaming white kit of the Park players. I had to admit they looked the business, but when they looked over at us, they saw Mac. I know who I’d be more frightened of!

  Park kicked off to a huge roar. 90,000 fans. It felt like 90 million fans, the noise was unlike anything I’d ever heard. We had to scream to each other to be heard, and even then, it was next to impossible.

  The first ten minutes flew by. Thiago, Dex and I had hardly had a kick as we struggled to get into the game. After 20 minutes, Zac, Arlo, Alfie and Dex had all picked up yellow cards, as well as three of the Park players. It was 100mph and many of the tackles were just not fast enough to keep up. We tried to play our usual game, but at that speed the passes just weren’t there.

  It would need a moment of luck to get on top, or one of incredible skill. Luckily, we got a big chunk of both. Park had won a corner. As I trotted back to take up my usual position on the edge of the box, where I would lurk, hoping that I could grab any loose passes and run the ball to safety, Mac bellowed to me,

  ‘Jacky, Jack lad, stay up.’

  I looked at him quizzically. I had done this ever since I broke into the team. This would be a first. And in such an important game? I shrugged at Mac and carried on walking back.

  ‘No’ he shouted, ‘get up, halfway line!’

  Dex was already there, but I could see Mac’s logic. With two of us upfield, and with my pace, it prevented one of Park’s big defenders from coming up to attack the corner, making it easier for our defenders to mark their players. It didn’t seem to work though, as we couldn’t stop them breaking through our defensive line. A towering header from the other giant central defender was whistling to the top corner, until a huge, gloved hand came from nowhere and turned the header onto the underside of the bar and out. The rebound fell perfectly for the Park forward who hammered it goal-wards, but somehow the falling Lucas managed to extend his legs, the ball struck his shin and cannoned up the pitch. It was an extraordinary double save.

  The rebound fell to Dex, who quick as a flash had turned his marker and was looking up, looking for me! He may have lost his speed, but his mind was still super-fast, so without really thinking I set off, and Dex, using all his years of experience, hit a lovely ball into the space. I knew no one could catch me in a 50-50, let alone with a head start, and I powered down on goal. The keeper came out, narrowing the angle, to try and make it harder for me, but I was going so fast it felt easy to just glide past him and as I fell sideways, I was able to guide the ball into the empty net. It was a glorious goal, and one that deserved to take us to the promised land of the Premier League.

  But Park themselves had determination in them and refused to lie down. They laid siege to our goal and time and time again our young team had to put our bodies on the line. The old guard, Mac, Dex and Arlo, led by example, running their hearts out and by half time, still leading 1-0, I was beginning to get concerned. Dex already looked spent, and Mac was struggling to hang onto his younger and more pacy forward.

  ‘We keep going’! Walter boomed. He was pacing up and down the dressing room, almost bouncing off the walls. I loved his energy. He was always (well nearly always) smiling. He loved his players, and we all loved him. We really would run through walls for him.

  ‘Jack, a word please,’ he said.

  We walked into a smaller side room. I was concerned that I was going to be removed in a tactical switch; it was the opposite.

  ‘Dex has nearly checked out,’ he said. ‘He’s already close to exhaustion. I’m going to give him another ten minutes then he’s off. You will be up top on your own, with Thiago behind you. You run them off the pitch, ok? Can you do that for me?’

  He gave me a huge smile and a wink.

  ‘Of course, boss, of course I can. Just give me the ball!’

  He laughed and returned to the dressing room.

  We ran out in the second half, to the same onslaught as the first half. I couldn’t quite believe we were still 1-0 up, they were so good, and so fast. We couldn’t cope with their power and pace. But there, like a rock at the back, time and time again, was my best mate, Lucas Cain. He was a human wall. His double save in the first half was extraordinary, but his performance so far was incredible. He caught everything, saved everything, until 15 minutes from the end: disaster struck.

  A long Park cross sailed into our penalty area. One of the Park Lane forwards was running onto it, more in hope more than belief. Lucas came out to collect it, rising easily into the air clutching it into his chest, but as he fell, he landed on the Park forward. Lucas’ ankle rolled horribly as he landed back on the pitch, and he fell to the ground in awful pain. As he went down the ball broke loose, and it was a simple task for the Park player to roll it in, 1-1.

  It was obvious that Lucas stood no chance of carrying on, and he had to be substituted for our reserve keeper Jordan James. JJ, as we all called him, had not had a chance in the first team yet, this would be his debut. He looked terrified as he ran onto the pitch, gloveless! Walter hurriedly called him back to collect his gloves and carry on. The Park players smelt blood and immediately peppered him with crosses. Whilst before, Lucas had claimed everything, JJ stayed nervously on his line, shouting: ‘Away, head it away!’ at every opportunity. It was only a matter of time it seemed, and true enough Park soon scored their second. A cross was headed away by Zac, but only to the edge of the box and bang, a rocket of a shot whistled under the body of the helpless JJ and into the net 1-2.

  Zac looked at JJ. He wasn’t impressed, clearly feeling that JJ should have done better.

  ‘I can’t believe it, we’ve come so far, and now this?’ Zac said, looking downcast.

  ‘Zac,’ I said, ‘it’s not over. Get me the ball, anyway you can, just get me the ball. I still believe. Anything is possible. Just believe in yourself. Believe in me.’

  ‘Ok mate.’ Zac said. ‘Let’s do this’. He clapped his hands and let out a roar of ‘COME OOOOON!’ facing up to the main stand where the support was 100% blue and yellow. The crowd sensed it and increased the noise. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  We kicked off and knew that we only had a couple of minutes to save the season. To lose now, after the run we had been on, would have been heartbreaking. But we were going to try. The fans were doing all they could to spur us on. Monty, who was possibly playing his last game for us, as his loan was due up after this game, won the ball on the halfway line. He found Fin on his inside who quickly switched the play to Zac who was now on the wing. As soon as he got the ball, I knew we were on. I motored down the centre as Zac ducked and weaved past a couple of tiring Park defenders before curling a brilliant cross that just eluded the keeper, but not me. I slid across the pitch, catching the ball on the volley with my outstretched leg and screamed with delight as the ball hit the back of the net.

  2-2.

  The crowd went crazy. 90 seconds left, and we had equalised. I was mobbed by my team-mates, but the game wasn’t yet over. Park would surely come back strong in extra time. But before then, we had to hold out until the final whistle was blown.

  We did more than that.

  Gianfranco Spaletti who had come on earlier for Dex - and until now had done nothing other than give away the ball, or concede silly free kicks - decided he was going to show us some of his famed Italian magic. He won the ball back on the edge of our area, before setting off down the left. There seemed no real danger, and he had been so poor since coming on the Park players didn’t look bothered in trying to get the ball back, expecting that true to form he would give the ball back to them. But, without warning, he hit overdrive and burst past two stationary Park players, jinking right, swerving left. He had beaten five players before rolling the ball inside to Thiago. Thiago drew his leg back to shoot, and just as he was about to pull the trigger, he was taken out by a desperate Park defender. PENALTY!

  It was well into injury time; it was 2-2 in the play-off final.

  We had a penalty.

  Thiago, he wouldn’t miss, would he? But Thiago wasn’t getting up. The Park player had hammered into him, and he was clearly in a lot of pain, struggling to stand. I looked around. Who else was going to take it? Arlo? Fin?

  ‘Jack,’ Thiago called. ‘It’s your time. You take it. Be the hero today.’

  ‘But Thiago, after last time,’ I tried to change his mind.

  ‘No last time Jack, forget what happened last time. See the ball hit the net. Use the lessons you’ve learnt. You can do this,’ he grinned. ‘Do it for us. Do it for them,’ he smiled, looking up at the fans.

  I reluctantly picked up the ball and walked into the penalty area. I glanced up at the Park keeper who was stood on the edge of his six-yard box, refusing to move. He looked huge. The referee insisted he step back, and he eventually did, but only after collecting a yellow card. He was bouncing about, punching the cross-bar, doing everything he could to distract me.

  I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath, thought of my mum and dad sat in one of the family areas, thought of Izzy - no doubt leading the cheering in the stands, telling anyone who would listen that I was her brother, and that she and I would one day both play for the mighty Accies. I imagined the ball hitting the net, and in that moment, I remembered what old Billy had told me at the end of last season.

  You are the future of this club. You will bring it back to greatness, but you must believe in yourself’

  He was right, I could, I would, and I will.

 

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