The Legacy of Josh Dixon

Mike said:
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.
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Hahahaha, best update ever! :D
 
Sitting next to the toilet, I was panting, as if I’d been out for a 5-mile run. I do not feel like getting up and doing anything today. I was sweating like I’ve never done before. I held my face in my open hands and thought ‘Why? Why today, of all days?’

My mother entered. “I’ve been listening to you from outside. You’re not fit to go today.” She’s really sensible at times. “Look at you; you’re a state!” She said it as if I’d had a night out in town.

“I have to go, it’s my first day,” I said, groggily. I snorted and coughed, then spat out the excess into the toilet. I wiped my face with the pale yellow tissue hanging beside me, and threw that into the pan as well. I flushed the chain, cleaned myself up and made my way downstairs where I lay on the sofa.

“Please don’t be sick down here,” mum said, worrying about her furniture more than her little boy. “It’ll take me ages to clean up!”

I put some bread in the toaster and set it to go, but suddenly realised that I didn’t fancy anything to eat just yet. I lay my head back down and, once again, fell asleep.


* * *

​

My eyes opened as I was being shook like a ragdoll. My mother was bent down in front of me.

“Didn’t want your toast?” she said with a smile, knowing that I’d put the bread in for a reason. I felt a bit better now, but still had a bit of a bad stomach. “You’ll have to leave soon – it’s twenty past eight.” With that time update, I yawned and stretched and got up. I buttered my now-cold toast and took one big bite out of the corner and ripped it off, as if I was some kind of animal. I walked up the stairs with breakfast in hand and shut my bedroom door behind me.
 
Mike said:
Sitting next to the toilet, I was panting, as if I’d been out for a 5-mile run. I do not feel like getting up and doing anything today. I was sweating like I’ve never done before. I held my face in my open hands and thought ‘Why? Why today, of all days?’

My mother entered. “I’ve been listening to you from outside. You’re not fit to go today.” She’s really sensible at times. “Look at you; you’re a state!” She said it as if I’d had a night out in town.

“I have to go, it’s my first day,” I said, groggily. I snorted and coughed, then spat out the excess into the toilet. I wiped my face with the pale yellow tissue hanging beside me, and threw that into the pan as well. I flushed the chain, cleaned myself up and made my way downstairs where I lay on the sofa.

“Please don’t be sick down here,” mum said, worrying about her furniture more than her little boy. “It’ll take me ages to clean up!”

I put some bread in the toaster and set it to go, but suddenly realised that I didn’t fancy anything to eat just yet. I lay my head back down and, once again, fell asleep.


* * *

​

My eyes opened as I was being shook like a ragdoll. My mother was bent down in front of me.

“Didn’t want your toast?” she said with a smile, knowing that I’d put the bread in for a reason. I felt a bit better now, but still had a bit of a bad stomach. “You’ll have to leave soon – it’s twenty past eight.” With that time update, I yawned and stretched and got up. I buttered my now-cold toast and took one big bite out of the corner and ripped it off, as if I was some kind of animal. I walked up the stairs with breakfast in hand and shut my bedroom door behind me.
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Ewwwww cold toast?! Josh is one strange boy haha
 
As I sat down and looked at my phone, I thought, ‘This day could change my life forever’. I pulled on a pair of socks and continued to put on new clothes. I really need to look my best; first impressions and all that. Sadly, though, as I’m only 15, I haven’t been in need of a fancy suit so I don’t have one. I put on my washed black school trousers, fitted into a bright white short-sleeved shirt and buffed my black shoes, so much that I could see my face in them. I stepped into them one by one and wiggled my feet around so to fit into them comfortably.

I took one look in the long, free-standing mirror in the corner on the landing. Happy with what I’ve got on, I put on my ‘special-occasion’ watch, and smiled.

“It’s half past, Josh,” my mother called from the bottom of the stairs. As she said that, I came into her view by shifting along the landing and into the gap at the summit. “Oh, you look fantastic.” She shed a tear.

I’m all grown up!

I walked down the steps slowly, holding the banister all the way down, like a beautiful girl in a dress on her prom night. I reached the bottom and smiled at my mother.

“All set?” she ensured.

“Yup,” I nodded.

“Come on then,” she said, gently slapping my arm, as a friend would do. She extracted her car and house keys from her jacket pocket and held the front door open for me. I leapt into the front seat, and sighed happily.
 
ooooooooooooooo! Keep it up dude, I am really enjoying this!
 
You are genuinely talented mate, such a good story!
 
It's been 24 hours! What's happening! Are you out, getting piiiisssssssseeeedddd? :O
 
Driving to Underhill, I glared out of the passenger window with my elbow on the door and my hand around my mouth. I was nervous, and in the car, I always did this when nervous.

Right on cue, my mother chuckled, “Not nervous, are you?” She could see I was, but she always wanted to make sure that I knew that she knew. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Besides, it’s only football, isn’t it?”

“I will be meeting loads of people today, mind,” I reminded her. “The manager, players, coaches... that’s quite a lot of people.”

“But you’ve already met the manager,” she said, “I’m sure he’ll welcome you and make you feel at home.” And you know what? She was probably right. Besides, they are there to meet me and introduce me, so why would they leave me out?

We pulled up directly outside the front doors of the stadium. Sure enough, stood next to a slightly ajar door, Mr. Robson smiled and waved. Naturally, but shakily, I waved right back at him. I thanked mum and opened the door, leaving behind a big smile. I sucked inwards through my gritted teeth, worriedly shot a glance towards her and said, “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck son, you won’t need it,” she said, the last part a bit muffled as the car door slammed shut. I waved off mum and slowly turned around. There were now two men stood at the top of the three concrete steps: the manager was joined by the Chairman. If I wasn’t nervous enough already, this sent shudder down my spine. I knew this was the real deal now. I can prepare for the rest of my life. I’m ready for the big step up. I’m ready for a life of being known. I’m ready for anything.

I then ended up face-first against the ground after kicking the bottom step.

Guess I wasn’t ready for that.
 
Brushing my knees with embarrassment, I apologised and proceeded to shake each of their hands.

“You alright? That was quite a tumble,” he stated the obvious. I nodded and smiled; I didn’t want anything to stop me having my day. I followed both of them as they turned around and entered the stadium. The place looks familiar, and it wasn’t too long ago that I was here on a trial open day.

I looked around, and the place was empty. The hallway; empty. The stairs; empty. It was as if the place had been fumigated. I felt like asking where everybody was, but I’m new to the business so it may be normal.

We walked through two doors and into a large room. It was the press conference room. There were seats laid out symmetrically, only about 20 though. There was a little stage at the back of the room with tables and chairs on it, and a single microphone. Like the entrance, this room had been deserted too.

“You’ll be the centre of attention in about half an hour,” Mr. Robson said, raising his eyebrows at me. My heart beat faster. ‘****’, I thought. ‘Me? Being asked all the questions? Balls, didn’t prepare for that either!’ I took a deep breath and smiled. It can’t be that hard, surely.

Eventually coming to a stop around the back of the advertising boards where the press conference takes place, I thought I’d better say something rather than just keep quiet.

“This place is nice; I’ve never been here before,” I quipped. Never been here before? No ****, Sherlock Holmes, I’m being signed today. Thankfully, It seemed they didn’t notice my stupidity.

“Be prepared to spend a lot of time in here after home games, especially if you’re man of the match.” ‘Man of the match? I’m drooling already.

Twenty-five slow minutes had passed and it was finally time to walk onto the stage. I took a few deep breaths and scratched my face. I’ve seen a lot of pro footballers do this, but it came naturally. I was bouncing around, stretching, as if about to appear in a pantomime.

“Let me please be the first to welcome and introduce to you, a special talent, Joshua Dixon.” My eyes spread. It was time. One last deep breath. I walked around the advertising boards with a smile. You know darts players have ‘walk-on music’? I was walking onto the stage to an applaud from an eight-up audience. How the press conference course changes all depends on my actions. I’m now the centre of attention.

All eyes are on me.
 
Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwweeeeeessssssssoooooommmmmmmeeeeeeeeeee!
 
I took a seat and looked at the table where there was previously only a single microphone. Now, there was three; one for Mark – that’s Mr. Robson, the manager; I’ve since learnt his name – and two for me. I gulped loudly and looked up. It felt as if there were thousands of journalists and fans in front of me.

“Thank you for your patience. I’d like to welcome Joshua Dixon, so welcome, Josh. We’ll begin with the questions straight away, so fire away.” I was hoping he was going to speak for a little bit longer to try and cool my nerves.

“Michael Philips, Daily Mirror,” one started. “This must be huge for you; you’re fifteen and signed up to a first team squad who are constantly improving.”

‘The Daily Mirror? That’s quite a big paper,’ I thought to myself. “It’s massive for me. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.” Short and sweet. Clichéd. I felt better already.

For fifteen minutes afterwards, I was bombarded with questions and I answered them all, subtly and quickly. They were all there, sitting upright, smiling. They seemed happy with what I’ve said, and that reflected on me. I took my elbows off the table, sat back and smiled. The manager took more questions regarding my signing and we headed out to the pitch for pictures.

I felt like a star. Shaking hands with the gaffer, posing on my own with my shirt and number – my favourite, 20 – and kicking a ball about. I’m living the dream, and I can’t wait to get started.
 
Sorry for the lack of updates, been working a lot recently, but there will be one up tomorrow.
 
Have just caught up on this Mike after not reading for a few weeks and I am very very impressed. Keep up the great work son!
 
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