Dictionary
Uplifted
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Most football clubs associated mascots with either comical animal costumes or cute children. Scott was neither but he had been the club mascot for nearly thirty years.
It was not a particularly memorable club or a particularly successful club. It was just Scott’s local town and he had worked there in an amateur capacity for, what seemed to be, his entire life. When the progression from coach to mascot actually happened, no-one was quite sure. Even Scott was unsure. It was known that when there was a match Scott would be there. No longer coach but this did not mean that he stopped giving advice, or criticism, or whatever he felt was necessary.
Scott was Balford FC. If you cut him in two (which opposing sides often wished to do) he would have his team’s name running through him like a stick of rock. Every supporter knew Scott but what was even more remarkable was that he remembered the name of every kid or man (or both) who passed through the club’s hands. Even now, at retirement, he did not need prompts to greet old and new players. He was Balford FC through and through.
Scott had always put a brave face on things. Many associated this with him being a hard man. Scott was anything but hard, but he had to put on a brave face. That was his job. He believed his demeanour would bring out the best in the boys, his boys. He remembered them all.
He was renown for it.
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It was his last match as mascot. He was getting too infirm and basically too old to sit on the side-lines, especially during the winter.
His replacement was to be the Balford Badger. The costume had been made. It didn’t really matter who was inside.
Disappointingly the match was goal-less. Not the send off you would hope for. Nostalgia was not a word Scott would usually have associated with himself but he had been a part of this club, a part of its fibre, for so long. Scott had taught sports to boys in schools for even longer. Now, at the end of the day, it was time to call it a day. He shuffled, as old men do, towards the dug-out. It had been years since that was really his place.
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Scott suddenly felt afraid, like he was being attacked, like he was struggling for air, like he was drowning. He was certainly winded – and then he rose into the wind. He legs could not carry him but that was OK because there was an ocean of people carrying. Like a king he was being carried aloft. Raised upon their shoulders, Scott was uplifted and paraded around the football ground. His senses were paralysed. He could not hear. Scott thought he was hearing things.
He was hearing things.
What he was hearing was the cheers from all the supporters.
It was a standing ovation.
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Scott’s eyes could not see. They were full of water. He recognised all the lads holding him aloft, except one. The one who grabbed his right leg. He was a podgy man who had definitely not played football for the team. But Scott always prided himself on remembering all the lads.
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And then he knew.
And then he remembered.
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“Thank you, Dustin,”.
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“No probs, Mr Maguire”.
And then Dustin winked.
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