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  PRAISE FOR THE JAMIE JOHNSON SERIES

  “You’ll read this and want to get out there and play”

  Steven Gerrard

  “True to the game . . . Dan knows his football”

  Owen Hargreaves

  “An inspiring read for all football fans”

  Gary Lineker

  “If you like football, this book’s for you”

  Frank Lampard

  “Jamie could go all the way”

  Jermain Defoe

  “Pure class – brings the game to life”

  Owen Coyle

  “I love reading about football and it doesn’t get much better than this”

  Joe Hart

  “Pure joy”

  The Times

  “Inspiring”

  Observer

  “Gripping”

  Sunday Express

  “A resounding victory”

  Telegraph

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Dan Freedman grew up wanting to be a professional footballer. That didn’t happen. But he went on to become a top football journalist, personally interviewing the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo, Lionel Messi, David Beckham and Sir Alex Ferguson. He uses his passion and knowledge of football to write the hugely popular series of Jamie Johnson football novels. When he is not writing, Dan delivers talks and workshops for schools. And he still plays football whenever he can.

  www.danfreedman.co.uk

  www.jamiejohnson.info

  Follow Dan on Twitter @DanFreedman99

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to:

  Cecil Altman for showing what it is to be a gentleman.

  Major and Phillip for all your fantastic ideas.

  Caspian Dennis, Sally Rosser, Ena McNamara, Lola Cashman, Martin Hitchcock, Francine McMahon, Xabier De Beristain Humphrey, Dr Eli Silber, Gary Lewin, Michelle and Robert Farrer for your advice in writing the book.

  Joe Hart, Stuart Mawhinney, Ugo Ehiogu, Alex Stone, Jim Sells, Laura Henry, Koye Sowemimo and Oli Karger for your support.

  Hazel Ruscoe – this story is inspired by ideas we had together.

  Ms Pluckrose, Ms Clarke, Ms Nelson, Ms Slaven and all the secret agents at St Ed’s, George Heriot’s, St Agnes and Nova Hreod for your brilliant feedback.

  Sam and Joe Talbot, Martin Prothero and David Dein for helping to take Jamie’s career to the next level.

  Helen Thomas, Jessica White, Sam Perrett and the whole team at Scholastic for everything you have done for Jamie Johnson.

  And to everyone who has followed Jamie’s story. We’ve had a ball.

  Contents

  Cover

  Praise for the Jamie Johnson Series

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Acknowledgements

  Part One

  Chapter 1: The Big Move

  Chapter 2: Johnson 11

  Chapter 3: Back Where They Belonged

  Chapter 4: The Negotiator

  Chapter 5: The Man From Barça

  Chapter 6: Flying High

  Chapter 7: The Medical

  Chapter 8: Results

  Chapter 9: A Kiss

  Chapter 10: Home

  Chapter 11: Welcome

  Chapter 12: Training

  Chapter 13: Athletico Bilbao v Barcelona

  Chapter 14: Building Plans

  Chapter 15: Bench Warmer

  Chapter 16: Stone Age

  Chapter 17: Party Time

  Chapter 18: One Touch

  Chapter 19: Playing to the Beat

  Chapter 20: Headline- Maker

  Chapter 21: To the Letter

  Chapter 22: The Build-Up

  Chapter 23: Crime and Punishment

  Chapter 24: Words

  Chapter 25: El Clasico

  Part Two

  Chapter 26: Name

  Chapter 27: Old and New

  Chapter 28: “Get Me Kicking A Ball”

  Chapter 29: Do You Remember?

  Chapter 30: A Hawk’s Eye

  Chapter 31: Crowd Pleaser

  Chapter 32: A Keeper Saved

  Chapter 33: The Deal

  Chapter 34: Surprise Offer

  Chapter 35: Relative Values

  Chapter 36: The Deep End

  Chapter 37: Heads Up

  Chapter 38: No More Games

  Chapter 39: The Final Whistle

  Chapter 40: Reaction

  Chapter 41: Next

  Chapter 42: Building Bridges

  Chapter 43: New Beginnings

  Chapter 44: Thunderbolt

  Chapter 45: One-Off

  Chapter 46: A Shot in the Dark

  Chapter 47: Standing Together

  Chapter 48: Archie

  Chapter 49: Hungry for Action

  Chapter 50: Being Upfront

  Chapter 51: Back to Real-ity

  Chapter 52: Ready for Battle

  Chapter 53: Fluorescent

  Chapter 54: No Going Back

  Chapter 55: Injury Time

  Back Ads

  Copyright

  “I can’t believe it!” Jamie Johnson blurted out as he burst into the hastily arranged meeting at Hawkstone United’s stadium. “Is it true? Do they really want me?!”

  Tony Walsh, the chairman of the club, Harry Armstrong, the Hawkstone manager, and Archie Fairclough, the assistant manager, were already there waiting for Jamie. As one, they nodded back at him.

  This time it was for real. This time it was the club that Jamie wanted. Desperately.

  The whole summer had been a game of transfer cat and mouse. Real Madrid, Bayern Munich and Paris St Germain had all tried to sign Jamie following his stunning performances for Scotland at the World Cup. He was one of the most sought-after players in world football.

  And yet, no matter how much money they had offered to pay, Jamie had turned down each one of them. His response had always been the same: there was only one football club in the world for which he would leave Hawkstone United. But that club had never made a bid.

  Until now.

  Jamie’s brain had been boiling with ideas since Archie had called him with the news forty-five minutes before.

  This was big. This was huge.

  “Barcelona want to sign me?!” Jamie panted. His heart was beating so fast he felt as though he’d just played four whole football matches in a row.

  This was the team of teams. The club of clubs. The side who played the best football that Jamie had ever seen. And now they wanted him to join them.

  “It’s exciting, isn’t it, Jamie?” Smiled Tony Walsh. “And a crucial decision for this club too. I think we’d prefer it if we could discuss this matter further … in private, if that’s OK?”

  For a second, Jamie was confused, but then he followed the line of Tony Walsh’s eyes and understood he was referring to Jack, who, as ever, was right beside Jamie.

  “Oh,” said Jamie, catching Jack Marshall’s eye with the smile they always shared. “It’s OK. Jack’s cool. She may be a journalist, but you can trust her. She’s my best friend. I’d tell her all this anyway, so she may as well be here now.”

  Tony Walsh looked at his managerial team, Harry Armstrong and Archie Fairclough, paused for a second and then, with a reluctant cough, carried on talking.

  “I hope you are right, Jamie, because some of the information I am about to give you is completely confidential.”

  “It is true,” revealed Tony Walsh as
Jack and Jamie sat down. “The Barcelona delegation is flying into London as we speak. The manager, Godal, has requested a personal meeting with you tonight. They mean business, Jamie.”

  “You absolute beauty!” Jamie shouted, brimming with pride at the notion, his mind immediately leaping forward to imagine pulling on the famous blue and maroon top and scoring a master blaster of a shot in front of a hundred thousand adoring Barcelona fans.

  It was almost every player’s vision of football heaven.

  “You do realize, Barcelona is the only club I would leave Hawkstone for,” Jamie said, suddenly feeling a drop of sadness in his sea of ecstasy. “My granddad first brought me here when I was three. No matter what happens, Hawkstone will always be my club.”

  “We know,” Walsh nodded. “In fact, you signing for Barcelona is actually the best gift you can give to Hawkstone at the moment. We need the money, Jamie. Badly.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jamie. “What’s the problem?”

  Tony Walsh pursed his lips and looked at Harry Armstrong and Archie Fairclough. Archie, in particular, carried a troubled expression on his face.

  “Look, there’s no other way to say this: we’re broke,” stated Walsh.

  “Wow,” said Jamie, suddenly understanding why the Hawkstone bosses looked so serious. “But … how? I mean, we just won the league! We’re doing brilliantly. Now we’re going to play in the Champions League for the first time. That means we get loads of money, doesn’t it?”

  “We’ve overstretched ourselves financially, Jamie. We’ve been trying so hard – too hard – to get to the top and, even though we’re starting to achieve some of our goals, the banks want their money back. Now.”

  “Right,” said Jamie. “How much do we owe?”

  “We need to pay fifty million pounds back to the bank before the end of August,” revealed Walsh, his face growing greyer by the second.

  “But that’s in, like, a week!” said Jamie, panic in his voice. “What happens if we don’t?”

  “We go bust. They close us down. The end of Hawkstone United.”

  “Nine days to find fifty million?!”

  “That’s correct, Jamie. As a club, we’ve got two major playing assets. You and Bertorelli. And we’ve got nine days before the transfer deadline closes. We’ve accepted a bid for Bertorelli from Juventus this morning and now Barcelona have come in with this offer for you…”

  “So, me going to Barcelona is actually a good thing for Hawkstone?” said Jamie, the images of him pulling on a Barcelona shirt once again starting to fill his mind.

  Tony Walsh nodded. “The last thing any of us want is for you to leave this club. But, at this moment, that is just about the only way we have of saving it.” He stroked his chin with his finger and his thumb, casting his gaze towards Jamie’s knee. “The only question is, will you be able to pass a medical?”

  As he and Jack walked out of the main entrance to the stadium – possibly the last time Jamie would ever do so as a Hawkstone United player – his chest brimmed with pride.

  He had been brought up and played football on the streets around this ground, and now the greatest club in the world had come in to sign him.

  It was perfect. Or rather, nearly perfect.

  Because now Jamie had to tell the fans.

  There were two hundred there already. They were being supplemented by new arrivals with each passing second as the news that Hawkstone were negotiating with Barcelona began to hit the newswires.

  The fans were singing with all their might, waving banners as they did so.

  “Don’t go, Jamie!”

  “Hawkstone Loves You!”

  Ever since the day he’d been a mascot for the club aged eleven, the Hawkstone fans had taken him to their hearts. They were so proud that a little skinny ginger kid from their streets had grown into not only one of the best players to ever pull on a Hawkstone shirt but also one of the most exciting talents in the world.

  They loved Jamie and Jamie loved them.

  And now he had to tell them he was leaving.

  As soon as the fans saw Jamie, they rushed forward, barely able to contain themselves. These fans were pure Hawkstone. Just like Jamie.

  “It’s not true!” they begged.

  “You’re not going, are you?”

  “You said all you ever wanted was to play for us in the Champions League, and now we’re there you’re gonna leave us!”

  Jamie looked at the disappointment on the faces of the Hawkstone fans. Suddenly he felt an almost overwhelming desire to cry. He’d only ever wanted to be loved by these fans. He’d dreamed of it every time he and Jack had played football in the park. All those hours of training. All those dreams. Yet, here he was – in their eyes, at least – turning his back on them.

  “It’s Barcelona,” was all he could muster by way of an explanation. Public speaking had never been his strength. He preferred to do his talking on the pitch. “Believe me – I would not even think about leaving Hawkstone for anyone else. But this is my chance to play for the best club in the world.”

  Somehow his explanation only made the fans more angry. Calling Barça the best club in the world seemed in some way to be a criticism of Hawkstone. But that was not how Jamie had meant it. He would never say a bad word about Hawkstone.

  He watched a bunch of kids – all in their Hawkstone tops – as they ran off down the street, angrily kicking stray bottles and fast food containers as they went.

  “Go then, Jamie!” one of them turned around and shouted.

  Jamie recognized the boy; it was Robbie Simmonds. He was from the same estate as Jamie. Jamie had gone to school with his older brother, Dillon.

  “You traitor!”

  And with that, Robbie Simmonds tore off his Hawkstone shirt and threw it to the ground in disgust.

  There was nothing Jamie could say in response. He knew that if, when he’d been younger, his favourite Hawkstone player had announced that he was leaving the club, Jamie would have reacted in exactly the same way as Robbie.

  Jamie looked at Jack. They waited until the kids had turned the corner. Then, together, they walked over to where the Hawkstone top lay strewn in the street, like a dead body on a battlefield.

  Jamie bent down and picked it up.

  When he saw the back of the shirt, his heart sank.

  He turned around and showed it to Jack, revealing the name and number on the back.

  “Are you a hundred per cent sure about this, Jamie?” asked Jack, spitting on her gloves and smacking her hands together as she jumped up and down on the goal-line. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

  Jamie didn’t answer the question. Instead, he smashed the ball high up into the air. He had to do this and Jack knew it too. They had both been thinking about it during the meeting and she’d been the one who had brought it up almost as soon as they’d left the Hawkstone ground.

  “But what about your knee, Jamie?” she’d asked, before the Barcelona bubble got too big and burst. “You haven’t even kicked a ball since the World Cup, which, let’s not forget, you came back from on crutches. How long did the docs say you should rest for if you wanted your knee to get back to normal? Six months? And that was only a month ago. Won’t Barcelona be checking it out? It’s got to show up in the medical, hasn’t it?”

  “I know,” Jamie had said, each of her questions pricking his happiness like sharp needles into full balloons. “I know all of that. That’s exactly why I need your help.”

  By “help”, Jamie had meant that he needed Jack to have a kickaround with him – like in the old days. Her in goal and him smashing in the shots. He’d know in the space of five minutes whether his body, or more specifically his knee, was up to passing a medical to sign for Barcelona.

  Although it had been a few years since they had played together in the park, it felt like the most
natural sensation in the world for Jack and Jamie to grab a ball from Jamie’s house and head down to Sunningdale Park.

  This was where they had honed the skills and the passion for football that would dictate the rest of their lives – Jack as the best young female reporter in football, and Jamie as one of the world’s most exciting young talents, albeit with a knee that seemed to be ageing and hurting more by the day.

  He’d been advised in the strongest possible terms by the doctor for the Scotland National Team that the only way to fix his knee was complete rest. For at least six months. Only then would his injuries have time to heal. But Jamie had no time for rest. Not with Barcelona flying in tonight.

  The plan was pretty simple. Jamie was going to go at this kickaround hard. Shots, sprints and skills. He needed to try out the lot. If they were all there – as good as ever – then he would know that the move to Barcelona was on. If he broke down, if his knee gave way, then the move was dead. And so was Hawkstone.

  Jamie watched the ball drop from the sky. His football brain – the computer in his head – instinctively switched itself on to analyse the flight, pace and angle of the ball’s descent. He arched his body backwards, offering his chest as the perfect cushion for the ball to land on.

  He juggled the ball from shoulder to shoulder before letting it drop to his famous left foot. He swished his boot towards the ball, lashing it with his instep high and fast towards the top corner of the goal.

  It sang through the air, arcing through the late-afternoon sun in search of its target before the topspin kicked in to provide the last-minute dip.

  However, between the sticks was no ordinary goalkeeper. Jack Marshall knew Jamie Johnson, both as a person and as a footballer, better than anyone. Almost as soon as Jamie had begun his juggling routine, she’d seen the volley coming. She had started back-pedalling towards her goal a full couple of seconds before Jamie had even struck the shot. She skipped across the turf to ensure she was now in the perfect position to tip the ball nonchalantly over the crossbar with what appeared to be only the merest exertion of effort.

  “Fluke!” shouted Jamie. “You only saved that ‘cos you knew what I was going to do!”

  “Being prepared is part of the game!” responded Jack, feeling their friendly rivalry start to reignite itself. “Anticipation’s what gets you ahead in football. I always say that when I’m coaching my girls. Why? Is that the best you’ve got?”