NINE - HERO EXPOSED

We were in the final minute of the mini-cup final at St Dominant's Infant and Junior School - it currently stood at Wincheston Reds 1 v 1 Cudley Tigers.  The game had been put in suspended animation by my dabbling fingers when Thompson and Nobson were chasing down a long ball forward with only a pesky defender to deal with and an advancing goalkeeper to beat.  As we take the plunge back into the drama we see that legs galloped, the keeper was a fraction of a second too late on the scene and the attacking Thompson did enough to touch the ball away from the gloved guardian’s grasping hands and put the ball into Nobson’s path.  We were 10 yards away from the gaping net, the defending Giles Mix for the Tigers was on the heels of our wannabe hero, the next touch would be crucial (please feel free to take a breather). 

 

As the ball was now within shooting range Nobson prepared to strike.  Mix, out of desperation, reached out and got a firm hold on the waist of the attack-minded player’s lower garments and, as Nobson swung his shank and put his full lunging weight behind the ball, a great tearing sound was heard and both shorts and underpants were torn clean off as the sphere was propelled goalward.   The net bulged, Nobson was delighted and, caught up in the joys of the winning goal, failed to notice his meat and two veg were dangling for all the world to see.  He ran to his comrades with his hands above his head, he saw his fellow teammates take a look and run in the opposite direction and on two sides of the pitch two sets of supporters shouted, screamed and smirked with fingers pointing at something very, very untoward but very, very amusing.  Suddenly realisation dawned.

 

With much fluster Nobson was covered by Mr Liddell’s quickly removed tracksuit top and led away.  Young Nobby was in a turmoil of emotions but after quickly being given a pair of replacement shorts he made his way back out to many jeers, wolf-whistles and one or two giggles.  A small ceremony was had whereupon the Wincheston Reds, led by William Staines, were given a certificate of merit and a cheap Aluminium cup that Mr Liddell kept in his sweat and dust stinking storeroom.  Man of the Match went to Flair due to external political reasons and no mention was made of the winning goal and the unexpected nudity involved.  As a treat for all Mrs Liddell had made some sticky buns and home-made jelly which were given out in the centre circle whereupon everyone sat down, indulged and had a good old natter about the game, the gonads and the forthcoming school team selections.  

 

Like any outdoor activity in the climes of Great Britain it was eventually ruined by an unruly downpour and all and sundry had to dash like mad back indoors for a quick change and home.  The wind whipped up, the skies darkened, no one would have realised that only minutes before the desolate playing area was covered with many joyous, incredulous and downright shocked faces, all alive with laughter for one reason or another.  The only clue was a pair of torn cherry red shorts left blowing around a goal mouth, shorts that had been worn with pride, torn off with defensive desire, but shorts nonetheless of a boy destined for great things and...as it happens...a short spell of infamy over the coming weeks.