The ball spun in the air.

Rex watched it falling back to the ground.

Mickey, the goalkeeper, was way off his line. Their striker was just waiting to line up his shot.

Rex knew he had to act. As he ran, he heard the ball hit the ground. Mickey shouted ‘STOP HIM!” but Rex wasn’t going for their striker.

He heard the thud of the ball as the striker’s boot made contact. Without looking round, he dived forward. The blur of the ball raced towards him and he stuck out his left foot. The ball smashed into his left foot and sailed towards the goal. Rex closed his eyes. It had to be an own goal. It just had to be. He’d ruined it for everyone.

But suddenly he felt a pat on his back. Then another. And another. He opened his eyes. There was Carl and Dave and the rest of the team, shouting and laughing. He opened his eyes. The ball rested behind the goal. It had just flown over the bar.

The referee’s whistle sounded.

“Get on with it!” shouted the referee, “There’s thirty seconds left!”

Rex got to his feet. Forget thirty seconds. He could play another thirty years!

He winked at Carl and Dave as the ball was rolled back to the centre circle. The crowd were chanting his name and one thing was clear.

City were not going down.