That name. I can’t think. My ears are tingling with it.

‘Shush, now. It’s not,’ Granddad looks at me and back to the group.

I play dumb. I glance around but my eyes won’t focus. I’ve imagined seeing him here so many times. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing. Just Billy being daft. Do you want a pie or a burger?’

While he’s ordering I risk it. I sneak a look. I can see who he means straight away. A tall lanky man, standing apart from the others, doing some sort of impression that has them in stiches. It’s not him. He looks like the photo. But his eyes are different. The stubble is too dark on his chin.

Billy forgets all about it as soon as the match starts again, but I can’t think about anything else. The look on his face when he thought it was my dad. I’ve never seen him so scared. Like he was going to piss himself. I want to know and I don’t want to know. My stomach hurts. I wish I hadn’t had the pie after all.

We score again. We equalise and Granddad squeezes my arm so hard it hurts. The noise dies down and he’s muttering something under his breath. He’s saying ‘Don’t get cocky, lads,’ and I don’t know if he means the fans or the players. I wish I was back at the house with Nan. I’ve heard Mum whispering to her about me. Afraid I’m too quiet. Afraid there’s something wrong. And Nan says I’m special and different and it’s nothing that a bit of time and cake won’t fix. I want to be in the chair by the bookcase. Close my eyes and picture an oak leaf. Sinuate, undulate, wavy. The furry underside of a mulberry leaf. The bark of a London Plane tree patterned like camo. It’s going dark now and the wind is cold. The floodlights too bright. The hairs on my arm are standing up. The match is going on and on. They’re starting to get ready for extra time. Over on the Town End they’re already singing about Wembley.

‘Don’t count your chickens,’ Granddad says and Torquay’s keeper takes a goal kick to the sound of youuuuuu’re shit! rising up in time with the ball.

I don’t pray. I don’t even try to have faith. But the miracle happens anyway. Another goal in extra time. They manage to hold them off until the final whistle blows. Everyone starts pushing forward. We stay leaning on the railing letting them knock us on their way past.

‘I told you,’ Billy says, ‘didn’t I tell you they’d do it?’