I was running. I'm not sure why, but I knew I couldn't stop running. A quick look down at my feet reminded me. My bright white trainers were pounding the floor, nudging the ball in front of me towards Wayne. Wayne Rooney, my team mate, understood how important this was to not just me, but him too, and the whole team. We needed to make our families proud; our country proud.
Without warning, a mental image of a 10-year-old boy popped into my head. His head was bowed, crestfallen - we had just lost the match. I shook my head to free myself of the horrible thought. If we lost at this point , it would be more than just him that would be disappointed - it would be the entire nation, boys and girls; young and old alike. I couldn't let them down.
Before I knew it, Jermaine Defoe was beside me. He flashed me a grin as he kicked the ball past Argentinean striker Lionel Messi. "Go for it!" he yelled as he booted the ball into my possession. I was right in front of the goal. My boss, Capello, looked worried - we were drawing 2:2 with Argentina and there was only a minute of extra time to spare - if we went on to penalties, we didn't stand a chance, especially not with 'Calamity James' in goal. This was our only chance.
My heart was in my throat as Messi lunged towards me. I flicked the ball into the air, and… GOAL!
The crowd erupted as the final whistle blew. Beaming, I looked to the sidelines. Fabio Capello was on his feet, roaring with pride. I had never seen him this happy in all his time coaching us. The atmosphere was electric; everyone was cheering, except of course for the Argentineans, who were positively livid.
"Nice one, Steve!" I turned around and stood still in surprise. It was Rio Ferdinand, in his England kit, running up to me with no difficulties at all. Next to him stood David Beckham, also in kit, grinning all over his face. Something didn't seem right, but I didn't care. I just laughed and turned to the crowd. "England!" the crowd sang. "Eng-er-land! England, England, na na!" I couldn't stop smiling. I took in a deep breath - wait! Was that bacon? Why the hell can I smell bacon on a football pitch? - and ran across the pitch. I could hear them chanting - "Stevie! Stevie! Stevie!" - Wait! That voice sounded familiar… "Stevie! Stevie!" Who on earth…
"STEVIE!" Reluctantly, Steven Gerrard opened one eye and peered around the luxurious master bedroom of his beautiful family mansion. He could sense the smell of a full fry-up, and could hear his wife, Alex, calling him from the dining room. "Stevie!"
"I'm coming!" he called back. He sighed sadly as he climbed out of bed, shaking his head. It had all been dream. A brilliant dream at that, but still, a dream. 'I wonder if,' he thought to himself, as he wondered what would have happened if England really had won the World Cup.
Tada! What do you think? Also, what's your oppinion of the Germany v England, and who do YOU think is gonna win the world cup?
R & R huns (lol Paige Degrassi time!) :) xxx