Page 60 of Playing the Field
‘It’s a shame they wouldn’t let us spray the club name on the side,’ she says.
‘I’d say that would be an ask too far.’ It gives me an idea though. ‘Back in two,’ I promise as I race back into the house.
I emerge with a bundle of A4 paper and take it straight on to the bus, handing a sheet and a felt tip pen to each person sitting on the side nearest the pavement. I dish out instructions and strips of sticky tape and by the time I’m back outside with Cassie, the grin is back on her face. The large, coloured letters being drawn and stuck to the inside of the coach windows eventually spell out Crawford FC. It might look a bit haphazard, and it’s a shame all the letters aren’t in purple, but at least it’s something. And I can get some more professional versions printed up for both sides of the coach ahead of the first game of the league.
It means Cassie is less cross than she might have been when Craig and Phoebs finally run up, full of apologies. She just herds them on board and shouts, ‘Okay, let’s get going!’
There are whoops all round as the driver pulls away.
Spirits are high on the journey. I’d say our seat-filling fans have a really positive influence, offering encouragement to the players and sharing tales of their favourite past Hamcott Park victories. If there are any nerves ahead of our first ever game against anyone other than ourselves, they’re momentarily forgotten. It gives me a good feeling about the evening ahead.
When we get to the Mayfield North ground, Cassie starts prepping the team with a light warm-up while the fans head off to their allocated area in the stands. In the hour leading up to kick-off, a straggle of other supporters arrive, bringing our attendance up to around a hundred and fifty– about half the number of the opposition fans. It’s not bad for a first gig.
A few nerves start to show on some of our players as the start time approaches. Levi shifts agitatedly from one foot to the other; Jamie’s jaw is visibly clenched. Cassie reminds them today is all about practising together and learning, and does her best to make them forget it’s only six weeks since we cobbled them together and started calling them a team.
I desperately want a win for them. It might not mean anything in terms of the league, but the confidence they’d gain would be invaluable. I watch from the sideline as Cassie delivers a final pre-match pep talk. Ben claps each player on the back as they jog out on to the pitch. Then he comes and sits beside me and grips my hand tightly in his.
‘Steady on.’ I laugh. ‘It hasn’t even started yet.’
He apologises and rubs the blood back into my fingers. ‘I don’t know why I feel so anxious for them. I think it’s just because I know how much a win would mean to them.’
The first half is a difficult watch, though. Our players may have got used to each other’s little foibles during the in-club games we’ve played, but they don’t have that advantage against their opponents, and from as early as ten minutes into the game, the Mayfield number ten gives our defenders the slip and fires in their first goal.
It’s gutting, even if it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but I’m pleased to see Thomas and Levi respond by patting each other on the shoulder and trying to gee each other back up, rather than getting despondent.
When they fall out of formation again not long afterwards and concede another goal, it’s clearly harder for them to shake the disappointment off. Nico fails to hide his frustration, throwing his arms up in the air theatrically. But Thomas has a quiet word and he quickly settles down again.
‘Don’t get deflated,’ I implore them quietly as heads are shaken and eyes are turned up to the sky. ‘There’s still time to turn it around.’
‘Come on, Crawford,’ a fan shouts out from behind me.
‘You can do it,’ another calls.
‘Show ’em what you’re made of!’ Barbour’s voice rings out across the pitch.
A cheer goes up from the stand as Nico passes the ball back to Bailey to get the game underway again. And after that our fans continue to cheer every single time a Crawford player makes a successful pass– a heart-warming gesture that does give our players a lift.
Sadly, Craig still can’t find a way past the Mayfield defence though, and the opposition score an exasperating two more times before half-time. Lifting our players’ spirits during the break is going to be an uphill battle for Cassie.
Dad, Ben and I head over to the team with her and pass on any feedback we think might be useful based on what we’ve observed so far. Aaron could try taking the ball wider to the left, where we think Mayfield’s defence is a bit more hesitant. All of them are guilty of trying to kick the ball straight up to Craig without passing or dribbling it.
I think they all must be feeling that a win is impossible now, but Dad points out, ‘If they can score four in one half, so can we.’
And I’d say there is a noticeable improvement in Crawford’s performance in the second half, with two decent– albeit thwarted– attempts on goal and no more conceded. Our fans continue to make as much noise as they can throughout the game, and I’m so grateful to them for making the effort to join us, despite the distance and the fact that it’s only a friendly.
We all stand and applaud when the referee blows the final whistle, which I hope goes some way to making our players feel less fed up about losing four–nil. I don’t want them to be too hard on themselves over it. It’s not the result anyone hoped for, but we can’t expect it to all come together immediately.
The journey home is somewhat subdued though, even after Dad reminds the team this is only the beginning. The players either focus on their phones or stare out of the windows and Dad decides to leave them to it for the time being. Ben idly strokes my hair as I lean against his shoulder. After all the time and energy he’s invested in Crawford, I know he’s as upset for everyone as I am.
When we arrive back in Hamcott, Dad calls for everyone’s attention. ‘I wanted to give you this time to lick your wounds, but once we get off this coach, I don’t want a single one of you to still be thinking of this evening as a crushing defeat,’ he says defiantly. ‘The full post-match analysis can wait till tomorrow, but for now I want you all to have a think about what we’ve actually achieved.
‘Two months ago, we’d never met. Ten days from now, we play our first league game at our new home ground in front of two hundred fans who have so much faith in us they’ve shelled out their hard-earned cash on season tickets. That doesn’t sound like defeat to me.
‘So I want you all to draw a line under today. We all knew there’d be ups and downs along this road, but no matter what, we will always be the team that came from nowhere and proved that anything is possible if you put your mind to it.’
I don’t think I’m the only one who isn’t sure whether to applaud.
‘Can I say something too?’ Ben asks, hauling himself out of his seat.
