30 Day Angst Challenge

Fourteen: Scoring An Own Goal

The ball floated into the box, an excellent cross by Leandro Trossard that looked sure to meet the head of Neal Maupay. Trent jumped up to try and meet the ball with a defensive header, but the ball found its way into the back of the net. He hadn't got there.

As Brighton began celebrating, I noticed Trent looked a little annoyed, or maybe embarrassed, as Andy Robertson gave him a supportive slap on the back of the head. He must be annoyed that he hadn't got the defensive header clear. But I could've sworn he got there first. Unless...oh no.

"What is it (Y/N)?" Rebecca asked. Rebecca was Jordan Henderson's wife, and she and I had become friends through Trent and Jordan.

"I have a really horrible feeling Trent just scored an own goal." I mumbled, pulling out my phone to see if BBC Sport had the answer.

Which it did. The score line was written in big text at the top of the page, 1-1, and underneath the side that read 'Brighton':

'ALEXANDER-ARNOLD (71' OG)'

Well shit. This was the first time it had ever happened. With Trent being a defender, it was inevitable that it would happen at some point. He'd actually scored one before against Leeds, however he was lucky as it was disallowed for an offside in the build-up. The embarrassment had been spared on that occasion, but this time he wasn't so lucky. I just hope he won't be too hard on himself.

"Did he?" Rebecca asked. I could only nod in response.

"Don't worry about it, it happens." Rebecca reassured me.

"I'm worried he's gonna beat himself up." I sighed.

"Hendo will reassure him. He's been there before – the first goal he scored in an England shirt was an own goal, kinda similar to the one Trent just scored. I'll reassure him too, assuming he comes up here after the game." Rebecca told me.

"Thanks." I said gratefully.

The last twenty minutes of the game went painfully slowly. Mainly because nothing was really happening, but also because I knew Trent would be annoyed that nothing was happening. In the last minute he'd put an excellent ball into the box, and Mo Salah probably should've scored but hit the shot just wide. I could read Trent's lips as he cursed in anger at the situation – he didn't want his own goal to be the difference for his team.

But unfortunately, that would be the case. The game ended 1-1. As soon as the final whistle sounded, Trent sunk to the ground. I wanted to jump out of my chair and run onto the pitch to check he was okay.

"Bless him." Rebecca mumbled next to me.

She's like an Auntie to me and Trent, and Hendo is like our Uncle. Unsurprisingly, Hendo was right at his side, ruffling his hair and seemingly muttering words of encouragement into his ear. And like a true sportsman, Adam Lallana, who used to play for Liverpool but now plays for Brighton, went over to console Trent too, dropping to his level on the ground and ruffling his hair before pulling him into a hug. Trent had always looked up to Adam as a player, and Adam, along with Jordan, had taken a very young Trent under his wing when he moved up from the first team to the academy. I could've cried watching him be so supportive. Adam extended his hands to Trent, which Trent took and pulled himself off the floor. Adam gave him one final hair ruffle before Trent went off to give the other Brighton players handshakes.

It wouldn't be too long until all the players were making their way up to the lounge where their families sit. Rebecca and I headed indoors to the table that we were sharing with Robbo's fiancé Rachel.

"Trent will be fine (Y/N), he's got his mates down there and they'll reassure him." Rachel said, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

"I'm scared that if he walks in here upset I'll start crying." I admitted.