Peering through the bars in the gnarled wooden door I could see little in the gloomy passage, only the hot steaming wall opposite. The roar from 50,000 flaming throats vibrated through the rusty iron, and I gripped the bars tightly. Would I be called to play like the others, I closed my eyes.

‘Please ref’, blow that bloody whistle now.’

With only minutes to full time I began praying like I’ve never prayed before.

Then the moment I dreaded came. Frenzied stamping from above accompanied by ear shattering screaming. My worst fears were confirmed. They were shouting for another ball. The stadium chant began, ; repeating over and over.

‘Bring on the ball boy, ball boy, ball boy. Bring on the ball boy.’

The door vibrated violently increasing my fear a thousand fold. A warm trickle ran down my leg and tears ran unashamedly down my cheeks.

A scaly green face suddenly pressed itself against the bars startling me. Regaining my composure I stared defiantly into it’s bloodshot eyes. A dew drop from its long nose stretched, and fell sickenly on my white tightened knuckle. The glistening sliver of snot slowly edged its way down my little finger and dropped off my broken fingernail.

‘Five four to United,’ it spat. Its single curved tooth bobbing up and down like a yo yo. “Your turn next pinky.”

The key squealed in the rusty lock. Poking its scaly head around the door it hissed.

‘Straighten your cap pinky.’

I pulled the black and white skullcap tight around my head, and smoothed down my checkered skin suit. Sucking the musty damp cell air deep into my lungs I tried to look brave.

‘OK keeper I’m ready.’

The tunnel was a drag. Ninety two paces exactly; I’d counted them this morning at practice. A short rise into a blaze of heat and light, and I was in the embrace of sixty thousand fire breathing screaming fans. The air shimmered in the blinding lights of the park. The green turf was streaked red, and at both ends the white painted goal posts were daubed with crazy scarlet rivulets of congealed blood. Festoons of bloodied black and white checkered strips dangled from the nets.

United were to my right as I approached, with the Pool defending left. Twenty two fire breathing players each looking for blood and victory.

Silence fell over the stadium.

‘Attention ball boy.’