Just inside the penalty area, Danny thought.
He looked down at the floor. Was that it? Had McGee done it on purpose? Two mistakes: two goals conceded, probably.
Danny watched the referee blow his whistle and go straight for his pocket. For his red card, Danny assumed. He saw McGee jump to his feet and start shouting, complaining. Then England’s captain, Peter Day, pulled McGee back. Trying to stop him doing anything worse.
The referee pulled out a card: yellow.
Danny exhaled. What a relief! The game would have been dead and buried.
But now it was the Russia players complaining. Not only was McGee still on the pitch, but they hadn’t been awarded a penalty. That was their argument. The referee was pointing to a spot just outside the area: he’d judged that contact had not been inside the penalty area.
The tall Russian striker set the ball down, turning it twice on the ground before he was happy. Then he took five deliberate steps backwards. Danny watched him breathe in and out – thinking this was another chance for McGee. If he wanted to let this in, all he had to do was dive the wrong way, make it look like he’d been fooled by the free kick.
The striker stepped up and struck it. Straight into McGee’s arms. McGee hadn’t moved. Had made no effort either to save it – or let it in.
Danny sat down, feeling his heart going like the clappers. He glanced up at Holt.
They shared a look, but said nothing. But Danny understood it to mean something like: is McGee trying to lose us this game, or win it?
Another text came in:
McGee. Good save. Like I said, a draw. P
Danny smiled. He hoped that his friend was right.
SECOND HALF
England go into the second half one down and outplayed. At the front they look ineffectual; at the back decidedly shaky. If things don’t change then England will find themselves out of the qualification places for the World Cup and the English game will officially be in meltdown…
Danny smiled. He was listening in on one of England’s most famous radio commentators. Full of shock and horror. Like it was the end of the world. He knew that if England equalized, the same commentator would be asking for knighthoods for the whole squad.
The second half started like the first. Russia trying to finish off England. They’d had 70 per cent of the possession and were putting in a shot on goal every two minutes. Most were easy for McGee to handle. He could have spilled them or made something happen that would have looked like an honest mistake. But so far he was playing like he meant it.
And Danny was praying. As much that McGee should be honest, as that England should win.
But, as England were forced to take the game to Russia, they became more and more stretched. And, after an hour of play, England were caught out.
This was it.
Several Russian attackers broke after a poor pass across England’s midfield. It was four against two. But with a couple of high-speed passes, three against one. And – seconds later – McGee was facing two Russian strikers. With no defensive cover.
Danny stared at the scene. The game seemed to be going in slow motion. Too much time to think. To worry.
The striker with the ball drew McGee off his line, then side-footed it to the second striker, who then hit it hard and low, towards the bottom corner of the net.
Except it didn’t reach the goal.
Somehow McGee pushed the ball to his side. It hit the post and spun slowly towards the line, McGee stranded on the floor. Then the first striker came in to pass the ball into the empty net.
But, when he looked up, the net wasn’t empty any more. McGee had somehow lunged to his feet and blocked the Russian’s shot. To loud cheers from the England fans, McGee stood and hurled the ball out to the halfway line.
Danny stood and shouted. He caught Holt’s eye. They both beamed at each other. McGee was straight: there was no question. He was not going to throw the game. Holt put his thumbs up. Danny nodded back at him. He was feeling good now.
But he was shocked to hear an even louder cheer suddenly coming from the stands. The stands on the far left.
He looked at the pitch.
The England players were wheeling away from the Russian goal. The Russian keeper was on his back on his goal line. The ball behind him, caught in the net.
England had equalized.
Somehow.
Danny had missed it, too busy grinning at Holt.
Almost immediately Danny’s mobile rang. Dad.
‘How did it go in?’ Dad said. ‘The commentary was drowned out by the crowd.’
Danny wondered what he should say.
‘I missed it.’
Honesty. Always honesty.
‘You missed it,’ Dad repeated. ‘You go one and a half thousand miles to see a game – and you miss the goal. Danny!’
Danny listened to his dad laughing.
After that the game was very different. England were on top. Russia deflated.
Danny couldn’t stop jumping up and down. He felt like he was on the pitch. This had to be the best match he’d been to.
He looked up to see if he could catch Tupolev’s eye. But Tupolev was not looking back at Danny. He was glaring at the pitch, his eyes as black as coal. His forehead furrowed.
Danny couldn’t help but speculate about what Tupolev was thinking. Was he thinking of McGee? Of killing him? Or was he thinking about Sir Richard? What would this do to their relationship? If Holt was right about their plans to buy City.
As the match went on Danny couldn’t help but keep glancing at him. He was such a magnetic figure. At one point Danny saw him pull out his phone and shout down it, snapping it shut
