The Scholar

By marvin johnson

Ryan is like most teenage boys dreaming of one day being able to play professional football. His dream becomes closer to reality as he earns a scholarship playing for the Town. It is a dream come true, as one learns the trials and tribulations of a young boy competing with the very best in the profession.

• Language: English
• Publisher: marvin johnson
• Release date: Jun 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476046037

marvin johnson

I am a ex pro football player who played for Luton Town all his career. I was a player for 15 years joining straight from school in 1985 as a 16 year old.After my playing days came to an end i continued at the club for another 5 years on the coaching staff.I had now gone full circle and was helping other young players to fulfil their dream in becoming a pro player.

Book preview

The Scholar

Copyright Marv Johnson

Artwork Copyright Kristina Howells

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The Beginning

As I sit outside the manager’s office, not knowing my fate. I look back over the past fourteen months in wanting to become a professional football player. Time surely does fly doesn’t it?

It only felt like yesterday that I sat with my parents waiting to sign, freshly faced having just left school. I like most boys, wanted to become a footballer when growing up. Fortunately for me I was given that opportunity at a club.

Have I got what it takes?

My name is Ryan this is my story.

Hey you test tube past me that ball It was Ricky Smith known as smithy to the pros. The clubs leading goal scorer for the past four years, blonde hair, tanned and the physique I could only dream of, when I became a man.

Who me! I replied nervously, Yea you, you little shit give me the ball. As the other scholars are staring, thinking thank God he wasn’t talking to them.

I knocked the ball hesitantly in his direction. He flicks it up in one smooth motion and starts to juggle. One or two of the other pro`s started to join him in playing the game killer, a game often played before training started.

It’s the first day of pre-season training, and the other scholars and I started to stare in admiration. One by one the other pro`s joined in keeping the ball off the ground. They’re all using different parts of the body, head, foot, knee, shoulder, heel you name it. Just as the camaraderie, laughter and fun is building up and the anticipation in who is going to mess up.

A voice shouts out Ok last one on someone’s back.

In a moments flash the ball is left motionlessly in the air, as the pro`s scramble around to pair up on each other’s back. It was the voice of Mike McCann assistant manager and ex player for the Town. A very honest and also a good player in his time, is hugely respected by the entire pro`s, as is seen in their sharp response to his request.

Ok down you get Tommo and Jacko, give me five Five press-ups that is, the forfeit for being last. Right in you come everyone, and you kids at the back there, don’t be shy.

We all started to walk in slowly, trying not to get to close to the pro`s, in case one of them turns round and says something to us.

Mike wouldn’t normally be taking us for training, but as it was pre-season, the first few days everyone is together.

As Mike is explaining what we were going to do, I can see our youth team manager Baz (Barry Lake) over his shoulder. Baz is talking to the first team manager pointing in our direction. I guess he is talking about us, the new arrivals and what he hopes we might be able to bring to the club.

Just then as I return my attention focused back to what Mike is saying, he says Ok understood lads, off you go.

As we started to jog around the field I turned to Sam. Sam and I would become close over the next year or so. Not only because of our interests and similar personality’s, but we also play the same position as strikers.

What running have we got to do mate, I wasn’t listening Sam’s response was short but witty. Fuck me I was, and felt physically sick!

The day passed by quickly but it was intense and very demanding. The amount of running drills Mike had put us through had left me knackered. Sam was right, had I known what was ahead; I would have thrown up on the spot. That’s not to say there weren’t any casualties during the session. Mainly from the pro`s who had over indulged in the summer. Those that were sick I’m sure won’t be making that mistake again. I was just pleased that I had got through the day with no problems.

I was now home at my digs lying down resting, waiting to be called down for dinner. My digs were supposed to be the best. I was on my own but that didn’t bother me. My landlady was a lovely lady called Mrs D, who spoilt you rotten.

Mrs D was an eccentric, wealthy lady who had two children of her own. Paul was twenty-two and Stella was twenty-four. They didn’t stay much; it had always been their home. The other member of the household was Pete, who was Mrs D gentleman friend, so they say.

Mrs D was one of those lady’s who loved to mother you, sixty-eight years old, very well spoken but not a soft touch. Her ex had passed away many years ago and Mrs D had been left a large amount of money, and a lovely big house to raise the children. Like I said she loved to mother you, hence the fact Paul and Stella still having rooms there after many years.

Paul now was your original prize dick head. God knows what part of Mrs D was in him, arrogant, rude and basically a waste of space. All he kept going on about was some project that he was doing with his bum chum mates to do with music. He didn’t stay that often, but when he did. It was loud music and turmoil for the days he did. Like I said Mrs D was not a soft touch, and when she loses it she loses it. So Paul would not be seen for a few weeks until he stopped feeling sorry for himself.

Now Stella Wow another reason I can see why these are the best digs in town. She could be a model; six-foot tall, blonde, blue eyes, long legs and a truckload of you know what on top. Not only did she have the looks but a complete opposite to that Wanker of a brother of hers. She was polite, always smiled and spoke and took an interest in what and how I was doing. Not that I was remotely interested in what she was saying when she did speak. My eyes and attention were occupied elsewhere. I knew she knew what I was staring at, but not once did she embarrass me by pulling me up on it.

Stella’s main home was in London where she worked as business manager in advertising. She was very close to Mrs D and loved coming to stay when worked allowed it.

Now finally to Pete, Pete was shall we say Mrs D`s boyfriend. Seventy-two years old, not very mobile, a bit of a soft touch and bullied for fun by Mrs D. Not in a horrible way, but when ever Mrs D said jump, Pete would say how high. He was very quiet and didn’t say much.

Everyday I came home he would ask the same thing. You all right son, are you working hard? and I’d give my usual reply. Course I am Pete, why wouldn’t I?

Ok son, just asking.

In a way I think he was just trying to keep me on my toes. So you can understand the time I spent around him wasn’t hard work, as I knew what he was going to say.

As like the first day, the second came and went just as quick. It was as hard if not harder, running and doing endurance work in the morning. In the afternoon we did circuits and weights. We were still training with the pro`s mainly in the morning. I think because Mike knew that we were young and enthusiastic and could run. Which wasn’t too much to the liking of the pro`s, who hated us young pup’s showing them up.

Especially Ricky Smith who on day four threaten to punch Sam’s head off his shoulders if Sam kept running too quick. You see Ricky all though the golden boy at