In Manchester, in England, there was a boy who was very fast.
His name was Marcus, and he was the youngest of five. His mum worked more than one job, and even so there were days when there was not quite enough food in the house. At school he got a free lunch, and that lunch mattered more than anybody watching him play football would ever have guessed.
He was fast, though. Really fast. He joined Manchester United's academy when he was seven, and one evening when he was eighteen he was told he was playing — and he scored twice.
Then he played for England.
Years later, something happened that had nothing to do with football. A sickness spread around the world and all the schools in the country closed.
And Marcus thought: if the schools are shut, then the free lunches have stopped.
He knew exactly what that meant, in a way that most famous footballers would not have.
So he wrote a letter. Not to a friend — to the people who run the country. He explained, plainly, what it is like to be a child in a house where the food runs out, and he asked them to keep feeding the children through the holidays.
A lot of people read that letter. Then a lot more people read it. And the country changed its mind and kept the meals going.
When it was about to happen again a few months later, he did it again. And it worked again.
He was given a medal by the Queen — not for football, but for looking after children.
He still plays. He still scores. But if you ask people in Britain what Marcus Rashford did, a great many of them will tell you about the lunches first.
Goodnight. Speaking up for someone counts too.



