Mike
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Keep it up, looking good! Should make the updates longer
I would, but then it just seems a lot to read. I'll try and make them longer
The Legacy of Josh Dixon
- Thread starter Mike
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I would, but then it just seems a lot to read. I'll try and make them longer
Mike
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My knees were bobbing up and down in suspense. I was very tense – fists clenched, shifting eyes. I talk to a lot of people every day, but I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.
When I’m waiting, or bored, I like to do some ‘people watching’. I look at people and think what they might do in life – a muscular man in a tight light blue shirt tucked into his dark grey trousers and shiny leather shoes may signify that he’s a manager of somesort, or maybe sitting on a leather rotating chair in a bank.
Hurrying in through the door soon after was a burly man, draped in a raincoat, and clutching a black folder. It was him, the one that wants to talk with me.
I stood up and offered my hand; I felt like an adult. “Good morning,” I greeted him. “Can I get you anything to eat; drink?” Now I was taking the ****. I’m fifteen for God’s sake.
“I’m quite alright, Michael. We’re not going to be long.” He quickly sat down and opened his folder. “Now; Dale, right?” I nodded. “Excellent. Here’s the deal: I want you to play for us. I’ve contacted your school; if you do sign for us, which I hope you will, you’ll still be attending school next year. You’ll train after school and on Sundays. You don’t turn 16 until April but that’s okay, I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”
We spoke for some time, considering he said we weren’t going to be that long, and after much deliberation and discussion, we came to an agreement. He stood up and thanked me for my patience and understanding.
I left the cafe and walked home at a very quick pace, quicker than any walk I’ve ever taken. After turning the last corner to the street where my house lay, I ran. I burst through the door like a policeman on a drug raid.
“What the ****’s going on?!” my mother shouted whilst putting shopping into the freezer.
“I’ve got a contract! I’ve got a football contract!” I answered, beginning to cry with joy. My mother jumped at me and grabbed me, hard.
“Well done son, I knew you could do it! Who are you going to play for?” She exclaimed excitedly.
I pulled away from her hug and stood directly in front of her, and said, “Barnet.”
When I’m waiting, or bored, I like to do some ‘people watching’. I look at people and think what they might do in life – a muscular man in a tight light blue shirt tucked into his dark grey trousers and shiny leather shoes may signify that he’s a manager of somesort, or maybe sitting on a leather rotating chair in a bank.
Hurrying in through the door soon after was a burly man, draped in a raincoat, and clutching a black folder. It was him, the one that wants to talk with me.
I stood up and offered my hand; I felt like an adult. “Good morning,” I greeted him. “Can I get you anything to eat; drink?” Now I was taking the ****. I’m fifteen for God’s sake.
“I’m quite alright, Michael. We’re not going to be long.” He quickly sat down and opened his folder. “Now; Dale, right?” I nodded. “Excellent. Here’s the deal: I want you to play for us. I’ve contacted your school; if you do sign for us, which I hope you will, you’ll still be attending school next year. You’ll train after school and on Sundays. You don’t turn 16 until April but that’s okay, I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”
We spoke for some time, considering he said we weren’t going to be that long, and after much deliberation and discussion, we came to an agreement. He stood up and thanked me for my patience and understanding.
I left the cafe and walked home at a very quick pace, quicker than any walk I’ve ever taken. After turning the last corner to the street where my house lay, I ran. I burst through the door like a policeman on a drug raid.
“What the ****’s going on?!” my mother shouted whilst putting shopping into the freezer.
“I’ve got a contract! I’ve got a football contract!” I answered, beginning to cry with joy. My mother jumped at me and grabbed me, hard.
“Well done son, I knew you could do it! Who are you going to play for?” She exclaimed excitedly.
I pulled away from her hug and stood directly in front of her, and said, “Barnet.”
gogogo golem
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Well done Josh.
Mike
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Clearly struggling for words, my mother said, “W-well, that’s a start isn’t it? Who knows, maybe in five years’ time you could be playing for Manchester United!”
“Or Arsenal,” I hinted. She doesn’t even know what team I support.
“They’re all the same! Come on, let’s go out for food.” This phrase always excited me as I seemed to get the choice of place, and it was usually a McDonald’s or something similar. This time, I wanted to go to Nando’s. She kissed my forehead and said, “Of course, son.”
I ran upstairs to change, and as soon as I entered my bedroom I got a text message. It was from my ex-girlfriend (yeah, I know I’m only 15, but I already have two exes). It said:
-----
Hey Josh wanna meet?
Dont think i’m over u yet xx
-----
So not only am I signing for Barnet, and going out for food, my ex wants to meet up. For these reasons, I had to say no. I quickly threw my formal white shirt and black trousers onto the floor and squirmed into a more comfortable beige chinos and blue t-shirt. I squeezed into my size 9 white canvas shoes and put on my watch which I normally only wear on special occasions. It’s still in tip-top condition, too. I scurried down the stairs and jumped the last two.
“I’ll be there in a sec,” my mum shouted from the top of the stairs. Checking my phone every so often was something else I’ve done when bored, or, like in the cafe, waiting. I kept reading that text I received minutes ago. ‘She ended it with me; how can she not be over me?’ I thought to myself.
Not one to let things get in my way, my mother came down the stairs and we instantly left through the front door.
“You can have anything you want in Nando’s,” she begun, “but keep it reasonable. I haven’t got a job, remember.”
“Thanks, mum,” I smiled. We got into the car almost simultaneously, and set off for food.
“Or Arsenal,” I hinted. She doesn’t even know what team I support.
“They’re all the same! Come on, let’s go out for food.” This phrase always excited me as I seemed to get the choice of place, and it was usually a McDonald’s or something similar. This time, I wanted to go to Nando’s. She kissed my forehead and said, “Of course, son.”
I ran upstairs to change, and as soon as I entered my bedroom I got a text message. It was from my ex-girlfriend (yeah, I know I’m only 15, but I already have two exes). It said:
-----
Hey Josh
wanna meet?Dont think i’m over u yet xx
-----
So not only am I signing for Barnet, and going out for food, my ex wants to meet up. For these reasons, I had to say no. I quickly threw my formal white shirt and black trousers onto the floor and squirmed into a more comfortable beige chinos and blue t-shirt. I squeezed into my size 9 white canvas shoes and put on my watch which I normally only wear on special occasions. It’s still in tip-top condition, too. I scurried down the stairs and jumped the last two.
“I’ll be there in a sec,” my mum shouted from the top of the stairs. Checking my phone every so often was something else I’ve done when bored, or, like in the cafe, waiting. I kept reading that text I received minutes ago. ‘She ended it with me; how can she not be over me?’ I thought to myself.
Not one to let things get in my way, my mother came down the stairs and we instantly left through the front door.
“You can have anything you want in Nando’s,” she begun, “but keep it reasonable. I haven’t got a job, remember.”
“Thanks, mum,” I smiled. We got into the car almost simultaneously, and set off for food.
gogogo golem
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Good stuff.
Mike
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The radio was always on in mum’s car – eighties music. I admit, some of the songs I recognise are quite good, but I’m more into the recent stuff, so car journeys, wherever we went, seem to drag a little. Despite Finchley being only three miles away, it seemed to take forever to get there, and I was starving.
We finally arrived, and we parked next to a familiar white car. I couldn’t think for the life of me who it belongs to. With that pushed to the back of my mind, we sat down and took a menu each.
“Mmm,” I said, looking through every recipe. “Everything just seems so nice. What shall I have?” I always asked someone else to give me a helping hand when it comes to deciding things, especially eating out. I once spent half an hour in JJB Sports trying to pick football boots – I only had three pairs in my mind.
“It’s up to you, Josh,” she returned, licking her lips while flicking through the pages of the dessert menu. That’s my mother for you – sweet over savoury.
I ran my finger down the pages one final time and settled on the Double Chicken Breast Fillet. As I closed the menu and set it down, the waitress appeared at the side of the table, pen and pad in hand ready.
“All set to order?” She said, smiling. She’s absolutely beautiful: long, shining brown hair, smooth face, glittering eyes, and brilliant white teeth.
“Josh? What do you want?” My mother urged me to speak. I pointed at the one I wanted, still looking at her pretty face. She turned to place our order, and I just thought to myself, ‘Wow, she’s amazing’. I followed her around to the front of the restaurant and sat at the first table – God knows how I didn’t notice him on the way in – was my head teacher, Mr. Barnes. He caught sight of me and made his way over.
“Joshua! Congratulations on becoming a footballer. I hope you understand this won’t affect your school work?” In every single conversation he had, be it with me, another pupil, a parent or nobody to do with education, he’d always bring ‘school work’ into it.
“I understand, sir,” I replied.
“Ms. Dixon,” he nodded and addressed my mother in acknowledgement, and walked away.
We finally arrived, and we parked next to a familiar white car. I couldn’t think for the life of me who it belongs to. With that pushed to the back of my mind, we sat down and took a menu each.
“Mmm,” I said, looking through every recipe. “Everything just seems so nice. What shall I have?” I always asked someone else to give me a helping hand when it comes to deciding things, especially eating out. I once spent half an hour in JJB Sports trying to pick football boots – I only had three pairs in my mind.
“It’s up to you, Josh,” she returned, licking her lips while flicking through the pages of the dessert menu. That’s my mother for you – sweet over savoury.
I ran my finger down the pages one final time and settled on the Double Chicken Breast Fillet. As I closed the menu and set it down, the waitress appeared at the side of the table, pen and pad in hand ready.
“All set to order?” She said, smiling. She’s absolutely beautiful: long, shining brown hair, smooth face, glittering eyes, and brilliant white teeth.
“Josh? What do you want?” My mother urged me to speak. I pointed at the one I wanted, still looking at her pretty face. She turned to place our order, and I just thought to myself, ‘Wow, she’s amazing’. I followed her around to the front of the restaurant and sat at the first table – God knows how I didn’t notice him on the way in – was my head teacher, Mr. Barnes. He caught sight of me and made his way over.
“Joshua! Congratulations on becoming a footballer. I hope you understand this won’t affect your school work?” In every single conversation he had, be it with me, another pupil, a parent or nobody to do with education, he’d always bring ‘school work’ into it.
“I understand, sir,” I replied.
“Ms. Dixon,” he nodded and addressed my mother in acknowledgement, and walked away.
gogogo golem
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Good writing I think I know what might happen next but I'm not sure.
Sterling101
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Good story mate, Chinos aren't that bad, just avoid poo brown 
Mike
Like a glove!
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I waved goodbye to the head teacher as he watched me leave the building. The doors shut quickly behind us and we stepped out into the cold, wet rain.
“Thanks mum, that was really nice,” I said, hoping to go again sometime.
“No problem. You fully deserve it!” she replied, rubbing my shoulders. We got into the car and headed home.
The time is now eight-fifteen, and my stomach is starting to play up. I don’t know whether it’s nerves or something I may have eaten. I hope it’s not a bug, or food poisoning – I’m officially being unveiled tomorrow as a signing, or as I like to call it, a recruit.
I grabbed my phone and searched ‘Alex’ in the contacts file. I’ve yet to tell him about my good news; will he be happy or jealous? I proceeded to write the text:
-------
Hi mate, bit of good
news, Barnet have
signed me up. I meet
with everyone tomorrow.
Wish me luck!
-------
I breathed a humungous sigh of relief when it sent. Whenever me and Alex text we always reply instantly, whatever the circumstance – meal, school, family meeting. But this was strange, as he hadn’t text back. He’s bitter; I can feel it. I wedged this aside and tried to get a good hour’s shut-eye.
“Thanks mum, that was really nice,” I said, hoping to go again sometime.
“No problem. You fully deserve it!” she replied, rubbing my shoulders. We got into the car and headed home.
* * *
The time is now eight-fifteen, and my stomach is starting to play up. I don’t know whether it’s nerves or something I may have eaten. I hope it’s not a bug, or food poisoning – I’m officially being unveiled tomorrow as a signing, or as I like to call it, a recruit.
I grabbed my phone and searched ‘Alex’ in the contacts file. I’ve yet to tell him about my good news; will he be happy or jealous? I proceeded to write the text:
-------
Hi mate, bit of good
news, Barnet have
signed me up. I meet
with everyone tomorrow.
Wish me luck!
-------
I breathed a humungous sigh of relief when it sent. Whenever me and Alex text we always reply instantly, whatever the circumstance – meal, school, family meeting. But this was strange, as he hadn’t text back. He’s bitter; I can feel it. I wedged this aside and tried to get a good hour’s shut-eye.
gogogo golem
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Great update.
Mike
Like a glove!
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Perhaps sleeping in the evening is not a good idea – I’m wide awake and it’s half past midnight. I checked my phone and, much to my delight although a little bit surprised, I have received a reply from Alex. I was half expecting a rant about jealousy, or why he should have been signed up and not me, but how wrong was I.
-------
Really? Excellent pal,
well done, I’m proud!
Drinks on you?
-------
Drinks on me? I don’t fancy hanging around outside an off licence for an older person to get alcohol for us. For a few years, Alex has been slyly drinking around the house when his parents aren’t in, or when we go out on a Friday evening. His parents aren’t the best if I have to be completely honest – they leave the house without warning and leave him to fend for himself. They’re also drug addicts, his mother worse than his dad.
I didn’t text back and I put the phone back down, although he’d be awake until three in the morning anyway. Instead, I lay back and look at my ceiling with a grin so big that says, “I’m signing for Barnet tomorrow.” This could be my big break. I might get noticed. On the other hand, I could be the worst player to ever pull on a Bees shirt. Whatever the outcome, I’m officially a Barnet player as of tomorrow.
I shut my eyes once more and imagined a few situations I may be in – scoring a thirty-yard screamer, or making a 93rd minute goal-line clearance. Hopefully some of these will come true; I guess it’s up to time to find out. I finally relaxed and fell back to sleep.
-------
Really? Excellent pal,
well done, I’m proud!
Drinks on you?
-------
Drinks on me? I don’t fancy hanging around outside an off licence for an older person to get alcohol for us. For a few years, Alex has been slyly drinking around the house when his parents aren’t in, or when we go out on a Friday evening. His parents aren’t the best if I have to be completely honest – they leave the house without warning and leave him to fend for himself. They’re also drug addicts, his mother worse than his dad.
I didn’t text back and I put the phone back down, although he’d be awake until three in the morning anyway. Instead, I lay back and look at my ceiling with a grin so big that says, “I’m signing for Barnet tomorrow.” This could be my big break. I might get noticed. On the other hand, I could be the worst player to ever pull on a Bees shirt. Whatever the outcome, I’m officially a Barnet player as of tomorrow.
I shut my eyes once more and imagined a few situations I may be in – scoring a thirty-yard screamer, or making a 93rd minute goal-line clearance. Hopefully some of these will come true; I guess it’s up to time to find out. I finally relaxed and fell back to sleep.
Mike
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I awoke at quarter to six, feeling as rough as a badger’s ****. Something’s turning on me from the previous day – my guess is Nando’s. I have to be at Underhill in just over three hours, but that’s all I feel like doing is shoving my head down the toilet and letting all my insides out. Maybe it’s got something to do with the nerves too, but I’m almost certain all that’s going to come up is chicken. And lots of it.
I fetched a glass of cold water and gulped it down in one, much like an alcoholic might do at a bar. I was hoping it would settle my food from yesterday. I paced around for a few minutes to feel if it would work, and it seemed to, so I headed back to bed to get another hour’s rest.
On my way up the stairs, my mother was coming down; she heard me get up so early, so she thought she’d check if I was alright. I said I’m fine, though I don’t really feel it, so she let me get back off to bed. I lay down for about five minutes and dozed off, much to my surprise. But only a quarter of an hour later, I was up – eyes wide open, shivering throughout, face paler than a sheet of paper. I jumped out of bed and ran towards the bathroom. But now it turned into a game – Will He Get to the Bathroom on Time? My landing was an obstacle course: corners, fallen underwear that was previously hanging from the banister, open and shut doors.
I eventually found the bathroom door and hurled myself towards the toilet. I kneeled down right beside it and stuck my head in the now seemingly tiny hole. I took one deep breath in and held it. I coughed once, and let it all out. My toilet was now full of Double Chicken Breast Fillet.
I fetched a glass of cold water and gulped it down in one, much like an alcoholic might do at a bar. I was hoping it would settle my food from yesterday. I paced around for a few minutes to feel if it would work, and it seemed to, so I headed back to bed to get another hour’s rest.
On my way up the stairs, my mother was coming down; she heard me get up so early, so she thought she’d check if I was alright. I said I’m fine, though I don’t really feel it, so she let me get back off to bed. I lay down for about five minutes and dozed off, much to my surprise. But only a quarter of an hour later, I was up – eyes wide open, shivering throughout, face paler than a sheet of paper. I jumped out of bed and ran towards the bathroom. But now it turned into a game – Will He Get to the Bathroom on Time? My landing was an obstacle course: corners, fallen underwear that was previously hanging from the banister, open and shut doors.
I eventually found the bathroom door and hurled myself towards the toilet. I kneeled down right beside it and stuck my head in the now seemingly tiny hole. I took one deep breath in and held it. I coughed once, and let it all out. My toilet was now full of Double Chicken Breast Fillet.