End Zone (12 page)

“But still,” the doctor interrupted, “no football for ten days.”

The words hit everyone like a sledgehammer—but they hit Tiki hardest of all.

Ten days?
He'd miss the team's next game!

“But Coach—!” he started to protest.

“No buts, Barber,” Wheeler said, putting a hand on Tiki's shoulder. “Doctor's orders. We're just gonna have to find a way to win our next game without you.”

A groan went up from the assembled Eagles, and Tiki buried his head in his hands.

This could not be happening! Not to
him
—not
now
!

Ronde sat down and put an arm around his twin. “It's okay, Tiki,” he said. “We've got this. We are not going to go down, I guarantee it.”

The players filed out, but Tiki sat there, still as a statue, feeling like he wanted to burst out crying. “Coach,” he begged at one point, “let me play next week—I'm already better! I'll be fine, really!”

“Barber,” Wheeler said, sitting on Tiki's other side, “let me tell you about a guy I played with in college, back in the age of the dinosaurs.”

That made Tiki smile, but only for a second.

“This guy was some kind of football player—a running back, like you. Well, he got hit hard one day. It was a concussion—‘a mild one,' the doctor said. Just like yours. But that guy played his next game—and guess what? He got hit again. It was the end of his career. He never played competitive football again.”

Tiki looked up at Coach Wheeler, who was staring right into his eyes.

“Now, I don't want that to happen to you, Barber. You've got a real future in this game, and you can't forget about that. You can't let your desire to win now be more important than the rest of your life. And I don't just mean in football. Concussions are serious things. Your future is far more important than any championship.”

He got up, took a few steps toward the door, then turned back to Tiki and Ronde. “And guess what?” he said. “I believe we're gonna win it anyway.”

He smiled, winked, and walked out of the locker room, leaving Tiki and Ronde behind to think about it.

“He's right, you know,” Ronde finally said.

“I'm fine!” Tiki insisted. “Why doesn't anybody believe me?”

“No, I mean about the game,” Ronde said. “We
are
gonna win. We're gonna win it for
you
, Tiki. No doubt about it.”

RONDE HAD FELT AFRAID BEFORE IN HIS LIFE—
plenty of times. Once he'd seen a rattlesnake—right in a neighbor's backyard. The snake shook its rattle at him and stuck its tongue out. He didn't remember screaming as he ran away, but Tiki'd always sworn he had.

Ronde wasn't embarrassed about it, even if he had screamed. Rattlesnakes are poisonous, after all. Sometimes, it's good to be afraid, he thought—because it helps you stay alive and healthy.

But it was definitely not good to be afraid before a football game—especially the Western Regional Final against the Abingdon Angels.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, a germ of pure fear was eating at Ronde. He couldn't seem to wish it away, or think it away, or distract himself from it. Playing a team that was every bit as undefeated as the Eagles was enough of a challenge. Doing it without Tiki was going to be crazy hard!

Ronde had even gone to Coach Wheeler and offered to play running back as well as his own position. “I can do
it, Coach!” he insisted. “I know all the plays. Tiki and I run them together all the time, in the street in front of our house.”

“I'm sure you do, Ronde,” Wheeler had said, giving him a sad smile. “But I need you at full strength on defense and special teams. If we're gonna win this game, we're gonna have to do it as a team. Every player is gonna have to step up and play the game of his life—not just you.”

“But it's more important for us to have a good running back than a good defender!” Ronde blurted out.

Coach Wheeler frowned. “Where did you get
that
idea?” he said sharply. “And do you really believe that? What you do for this team is every bit as important as what your brother does. How many times have you saved our bacon? How many interceptions? How many runbacks for touchdowns?”

Ronde looked down, embarrassed. He hadn't meant it that way—it was just that Tiki was so important to the Eagles . . .

“I need
both
you guys—you
and
Tiki—to be captains to the rest of these kids. I want you both to keep everyone else focused, in the locker room and on the sideline, and to let me know when somebody needs a breather. Got me?”

“Yes, Coach,” Ronde said. And that was the end of the discussion.

•  •  •

Now, as he prowled the sideline, waiting for the game to begin, Ronde had to get his own fear under control. Because if
he
was afraid, so was every other player on the Eagles! And as captain, it was
his
job to help them conquer that fear—so he had to conquer his own first.

“Just play your game, like you do every week,” he told himself. “Don't hold back. Play proud. Win it for Tiki.” He repeated those few simple phrases over and over again, willing himself into game-readiness.

The whistle blew. The teams took the field. Tiki, in uniform but with no helmet, paced the sideline like a caged tiger. He yelled himself hoarse, clapping his hands in encouragement.

Ronde took the kickoff, and was quickly surrounded and brought down. He came off the field, and told Tiki, “They're fast, and strong. We've got to make those blocks right the first time, or they're going to eat us alive.”

Tiki nodded, and went over to speak to some of the special-teams blockers. Unable to play, he could at least be an extra coach, giving the players whatever extra attention they needed to raise their game.

Abingdon had a record of 14–0, same as the Eagles. Unlike the Eagles, they hadn't had a single close contest all year. Ronde had seen their record, printed in that week's
Roanoke Reporter
. The Angels' stats were intimidating. Clearly, they had good special teams, and Ronde
now got a chance to watch their defense at work.

Without Tiki, the Eagles had inserted Rio Ikeda at running back. Rio had run all the plays several times in practice—but since he was smaller and thinner than Tiki, Coach Ontkos abandoned the power runs, concentrating instead on the sweeps that took advantage of Rio's speed.

On second down from the Eagles' forty-three, Rio got loose, and fooled three different defenders with moves Ronde didn't even know he had.

“Wow!” Ronde said, clapping as Rio came off the field for a breather. “Where'd you get those moves?”

“Born that way, baby!” Rio said, grinning. “Just give me a chance, and watch me do my thing!”

Okay,
Ronde thought, shaking his head and smiling. So what if Rio was feeling a little cocky? It couldn't hurt to have confidence, as long as he continued to back it up.

The Eagles got close enough for Adam to fire off a field goal, getting them on the board first at 3–0. The Abingdon crowd sat silent, stunned. It was only the second time all year that the Angels had trailed in a game.

Ronde trotted onto the field, ready to chase down the kickoff returner. The kick was high, and shorter than Adam's usual effort.

By the time it came down, Ronde was right there. He nailed the return man so hard that the ball came loose. Another Angel covered it, but Ronde had made his point. Today would not be another easy victory for Abingdon!

On offense, the Angels looked like a well-oiled machine. While they didn't pull off any spectacular plays, they advanced steadily on the ground, and with short, quick passes. Ronde found himself out of the action. That frustrated him, but at least he was no longer afraid.

Abingdon was a good, well-coached team, for sure. But so far, they hadn't done anything dazzling. Nothing like a 14–0 team, anyway.

Maybe it isn't that they're so good
, Ronde thought.
Maybe their league is just weaker than ours.
Had the Angels' opponents been a bunch of pushovers . . . ?

“Maybe we can beat these guys after all,” he muttered under his breath, even as the Angels kicked a field goal to tie the game at 3–3.

Back on offense, Ronde and Tiki both shouted their lungs out cheering, as Manny fired three straight pinpoint passes to three different Eagle receivers.

After a Luke Frazier burst for a first down at midfield, Manny went back to work again, finding Felix Amadou at the twenty-seven, then his twin, Frank, at the fourteen.

“Man!” Ronde said, grinning at Tiki. “I don't think I've ever seen him this good.”

“He's playing his guts out,” Tiki agreed happily. “My man, Manny! Yeah!”

Manny faked a long bomb, then tucked the ball under his arm and dashed right into the end zone! The Eagles
whooped and hollered, pumping their fists. Tiki turned to Ronde as the extra point went up and said hoarsely, “I'm already losing my voice!”

On the next drive, Abingdon's best receiver faked a square out and went long on first down. Ronde had seen this move before, thanks to Coach Wheeler and his belief in watching video of the other team's games.

Ronde knew the play would be coming, knew it would be on a first-down play, and knew exactly when to turn back and look for the ball.

It was almost as if the QB had thrown the pass to Ronde. He came down with it, still in stride, and made a quick loop back up the field.

“Now catch
these
moves!” he muttered under his breath, showing Rio, the Angel defenders, and everyone else what he could do with the football in the open field. He dodged, deked, double stutter-stepped, and sped all the way into the end zone—touchdown, Eagles!

Another extra point, and the Eagles held a comfortable 17–3 lead. The first quarter ended and the second began, but it was more of the same story. Ronde intercepted another pass, and then Manny pulled off a dazzling drive, scrambling and pinpoint-passing the Eagles to another touchdown.

The game was 24–10 at the half, and only because of one long bomb the Angels completed because Ronde was tripped—a case of offensive pass interference that
the referees didn't spot. Ronde protested, but he knew enough to back down before he drew a stupid penalty.

“Take it out on the field,” he told himself. “Play smart. We're in the lead. Don't say anything you'll regret later.”

•  •  •

In the locker room at halftime, the talk was all about Abingdon, and how they were a paper tiger—a team with a record they could never have put up against teams like Pulaski, North Side, and Hidden Valley.

Tiki had lost his voice completely, but he looked pretty happy. Antsy too. He couldn't stop pacing the floor.

“Chill out, bro,” Ronde told him. “You're gonna wear out your sneakers.”

“I can't relax,” Tiki said in a hoarse whisper.

“Why not? We're winning. We're playing our game. What is there to worry about?”

“I don't know. It's just . . .”

“What?” Ronde said. “Are you thinking about that broken mirror again?”

Tiki nodded.

“Just forget it, man! It's a stupid superstition.”

“That's what I thought, and now look at me,” Tiki whispered. “It didn't take but one hit to knock me out of this game.”

Ronde frowned. “Stay positive, Tiki. The bottom line is, here we are. We haven't lost all year, and we're not gonna lose today, either.”

“I sure hope not.”

“Hey—I guaranteed it, didn't I?”

Tiki flashed him a weak smile. “Go get 'em, cowboy.”

•  •  •

The bad break Tiki feared was not long in coming.

On their first drive of the half, Paco went down with a badly twisted ankle. Without him in their way, the Abingdon pass rush suddenly got a lot better. Manny's scrambling staved off disaster, but the Eagle offense started moving backward instead of forward.

In the meantime, the patient Abingdon offense was getting their team back in the game. Staying away from Ronde now, they went back to the combination of short passes and power runs to wear down the Eagle defense. By the time the fourth quarter rolled around, it was 24–20, and the Angels were driving again.

This time, they threw a long pass at Justin Landzberg's man, coming across the middle. Justin made a great leap to knock the ball away, but he landed on his wrist, and immediately grabbed it, wincing in pain.

With Justin out, the Angels had more success passing. Alister Edwards moved from his safety position to cover Justin's man, but Abingdon's tight end and running backs were getting free for short passes that soon brought the Angels to the Eagle ten.

Ronde could see the look in their eyes. It said,
We're
winners! We're unstoppable! No team has ever beaten us, and no team ever will!

“Oh, yeah? That's what you think,” Ronde muttered as he took his position opposite the Angels' premier receiver. Bumping his man out of the play, he sped right for the quarterback, who was looking around for someone to throw to.

Ronde leaped into the air and deflected the pass. It landed in the arms of Alister Edwards, and that was the end of the Angels' drive!

Deep in their own end, the Eagles' offense went to work. Manny ran the ball himself twice in a row, scrambling for a total of eighteen yards. Then he found Rio on a quick screen.

The Eagles kept churning out the yards, taking up a good chunk of time. Finally, they were forced to try a field goal from the twenty-one yard line. But one of the Angels burst through the center hole, where Paco would normally have been, and blocked it.

Even worse, he landed on Adam's leg! When the Eagles' all-star kicker got up again, he was limping.