More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Nineteen

The days seemed to blur into one as our game against the Czech Republic approached. Just as I'd expected, by the end of day two the team was connecting again, bringing our playing and spirits up. When the day finally arrived for us to depart for Prague, there was a confidence in the team that I remembered from when we were in Russia. 

Prague was bitterly cold when we touched down the day before our match and it only got colder as the day progressed. Our run around on the pitch that afternoon wasn't great compared to the way we'd been playing at St George's, but still I felt like the team should come away with a win. The Czech team had a few good players, their best being a star at PSG, but overall we definitely had the more quality team. 

Gareth had announced the starting team the morning before we left England. The humble side of me wanted to think Hannah would start over me, but I had a sneaky feeling my name would be up on the whiteboard at our meeting. Sure enough, there it was, just behind Mason's and just next to Noah Patterson's. I'd had a whole two days to come to terms with the selection, but even as I stood in the tunnel about to walk out it was hard to believe I was back here. 

Mason, a reassuring presence behind me, squeezed my shoulders tightly as we stood in line. The nerves that had gripped me since the previous morning had lessened with the pre-match routine, and now I felt oddly calm considering the circumstances. Walking onto the pitch, the fear I'd had about being an imposter before the break seemed silly: of course I belonged here, in this team. And I was about to prove it.

Except the game was an absolute disaster. We should have won it easily, like we had our previous two Euro qualifying games, but for some reason everything fell apart tonight. I blamed it on myself, naturally. We weren't doing badly for most of the first half: possession was pretty even; both sides had a couple of shots on goal. And then I just turned into a complete idiot. 

It started with a bad pass out of our box, which was intercepted easily by their right wing. A save from Ally meant nothing came from it, but for some reason I felt too rattled to get back into the game after that. My passing was terrible, my tackles lazy and my attitude nowhere. Half time came as a blessing, but things fell apart even more after that. 

I gave the ball away again and, in my haste to win it back, made one of the most howling tackles I'd ever made. A yellow card and a penalty later and we were behind, but I can admit I was lucky not to get a straight red. I tried to get back into the game – desperately – but it felt like the harder I tried the poorer I played. 

The next goal was also partly my fault. We were just getting back into it and getting some good phases of play together when we won a corner. Mason went to take it and I moved to the top of the box to wait for any rebounds. The ball flew in; Marcus mistimed a header, leaving his defender to deflect the ball away. It came for me. Too eager to redeem myself with a goal, I ignored the call from Mason to my left and instead had a shot. It flew straight into the keeper's hands and a quick long ball over to the halfway line left us wide open at the back and they scored. 

Mason's words echoed through my head as I saw my shirt number flash on the sub's board. I hadn't seen Mase so angry in a game for a long time and I tried to tell myself it was just an adrenalin-fuelled response, but I still felt sick. 

"What are you doing, Beck? Where the fuck is your head at?"

I left the pitch with my heart in my mouth, disheartened and humiliated. I'd shrugged off Gareth as he tried to encourage me, instead keeping my head down until the final whistle. Even the wonder goal scored by Marcus and assisted by Mason didn't lift my mood. I sat through Gareth's team talk feeling more and more dismayed and avoided the eyes of my teammates. To make matters worse, it was George's birthday: the team was meant to be going for a quick celebratory drink when we returned to the hotel.