Gang Tackle (3 page)

Coach stood on the sideline and said goodbye to the
TV
cameras and reporters. “As the president of Fort Sports, I want to thank you for being here today. And you’re all invited back to see how I’m helping to give these down-and-out boys a future.”

“
The Sports Channel
will be coming back every week,” a reporter said. “
TSC
will follow the team. Cover each game. See how you’re helping the kids. We’re going to call the show
Saint Roland.
You know, like how you’re saving the Saints.”

Coach Fort beamed from ear to ear. Jamal could see he liked the sound of that.
The reporters packed up their cameras and microphones and went back to their trucks. Jamal and the rest of the team took the field.

Coach Fort called the players in. They surrounded him in a big circle at midfield. “The first game of the season is only a week away,” he said. “The other teams in the league have a jump on us. They’ve already been training for a week. So we’ve got a lot of work to do. Defense, I want you to start on some hitting drills at the far end of the field.”

“Shouldn’t we warm up first?” Carlos asked. “Run a few laps before we start knocking each other around? You know, to prevent guys getting hurt.” He was the Saints’ safety and was concerned about injuries on the first day of practice.

“I’ve played a little high school ball in my time,” Coach Fort said, nodding smugly. “So I know what I’m doing. Besides, we don’t have time to get in shape. We have to know our plays.”

Jamal eyed Coach Fort up and down. He didn’t look like he had ever played football. Or that he had ever been in shape.
He looked white and puffy like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Offense, I want you to come with me,” Coach Fort said.

Jamal joined the rest of the offensive players and followed Coach.

“To speed things up, I think you should all play the same positions as last year,” he said. “Who played quarterback?”

“I was the starting
QB
,” Darnell said, stepping forward. He stood tall and let his muscular arms hang from his broad shoulders.

“And I was the backup,” said Eli, who was a lot shorter and skinnier than Darnell. “I came in if Darnell got hurt or was tired. But Darnell is your guy. He’s got a great arm.”

Coach Fort paced in front of the two players like he was a general inspecting his troops. “Things are going to be different this year. My quarterback has to be smart. Be able to think on his feet.”

“I can do that,” Darnell said. “I’m getting good marks.”

Coach Fort furrowed his brow. “I think Eli might be a better starting quarterback.”

“How do you know?” Darnell thrust his head forward. “You haven’t even seen us play yet.”

“I don’t have to.”

Darnell threw up his hands. “You think because I’m black and Eli’s white, he’s smarter? That he’d be a better quarterback?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you thought,” Darnell said, pointing a finger at Coach.

Coach brushed off Darnell. “What do you think, Eli? How does being the number-one quarterback sound?”

Eli’s eyes widened. “I dunno, Coach. I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a starting quarterback.”

“Ah, there’s nothing to it,” Coach said, slapping him on the back. “If Darnell can do it, you can do it.”

“If you say so, Coach,” Eli said, his voice cracking.

“I do.” He put his hands on his hips. “And that’s my final decision.”

Jamal wondered if Coach had different plans for him too. He had been the best wide receiver on the Saints last year. He had caught more passes than anyone and had a good thing going with Darnell. The big quarterback knew all his pass patterns, just like when they played pickup. He’d launch the ball and Jamal would catch it almost every time. Now that Eli was going to be the starting quarterback, Jamal wasn’t so sure that would keep happening.

“Let’s give Eli some practice throwing the ball,” Coach Fort said. “Jamal, you look like you can run. Do a buttonhook and see if Eli can hit you.”

Jamal was happy Coach thought he was fast. A buttonhook was an easy pass that Eli should have been able to make. But Jamal had his doubts.

Billy snapped the ball. Eli dropped back a couple of steps, then cocked his arm. Jamal ran straight downfield for ten yards, then quickly curled around to face the passer. Eli hurled the pigskin. Jamal put out his hands. But the pass never arrived.
The ball landed a few yards short and rolled between Jamal’s legs.

“Don’t worry about it,” Coach Fort said. “You’ll complete the next one.”

Eli nodded. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

Jamal knew Eli would give it a good try. He just wasn’t sure that was good enough.

“Jamal!”

His mom had her morning cup of coffee in one hand and the phone in the other. A half-eaten piece of toast sat on the table. She was racing around the apartment getting ready for work. “There’s a call for you—it’s McDonald’s.”

Jamal dashed into the kitchen from the bathroom. His mom wasn’t the only one running late. He had been up past midnight playing a football game on his computer and
had slept right through his alarm. He knew he should have hit the sack earlier, but he just couldn’t stop. He thought video games ruled. One day he wanted to work at a big gaming company like
EA
Sports. For now, he was teaching himself how to write computer code. He had found a website that showed you how to build simple games and he’d already started to design his own football game. The kind you play on a smartphone. He was going to call it
Sack the Quarterback
.

Jamal had a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still dripping wet from the shower. He almost slipped on the smooth tiled floor in the kitchen. He picked up the phone. “Hello…Work the after-school shift today?…Yes, sir…I’ve got football practice, but I guess I can swing it…See you then.”

Jamal hung up. “Mom, can you drive me to Mickey D’s this afternoon?”

“You know I can’t. I’m working at Best Buy today. Besides, the car needs new brakes. The mechanic said it wasn’t safe to drive until they’re fixed.”

Jamal rolled his eyes. “So, get them fixed.”

“Do you think money grows on trees?” his mom asked, raising her eyebrows. “Brakes are expensive. Hundreds of dollars. I’ve got to work for weeks to save that kind of cash.”

“Guess I’ll have to take the bus,” he pouted.

“You’re not the only one, Jamal. I have to take two buses all the way across town to get to the store. But it’s a good thing I work there.”

“I know.” Jamal nodded. “I wouldn’t have a computer otherwise.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” his mom snapped. “You’re just lucky the store gave me that old laptop they found in the warehouse. They said it was so out of date no one would buy it. But it’s good enough for us. It might be old, but at least it works, right?”

“Yeah, it’s slow, but it still does the job,” Jamal said. It was the same way he felt at the moment. “I still wish I didn’t have to work this afternoon though. I’ll have to miss practice.”

“That’s too bad, but work’s just as important. And we need the money. I’m sure Coach will understand.”

Jamal nodded. “He did say he wanted to help us get ahead.”

Jamal snapped the chin strap on his helmet and raced onto the field. He felt bad about missing practice the day before, but it was a good thing he’d gone to work. McDonald’s hadn’t had enough staff, and he had been super busy making Big Macs and fries. His boss had thanked him and said he was a good employee.

He wanted to make up for not being at practice by working extra hard today. Coach Fort was already out on the fifty-yard line talking to Eli, Darnell, Billy and the rest of the offense. He was dressed in the same coaching clothes he always wore—a suit.

“Listen up,” Coach Fort said. “Our passing plays aren’t clicking the way they should. The quarterbacks and receivers still have to learn their pass patterns.”

Jamal wasn’t worried. He’d been the Saints go-to guy last season. He knew all the patterns cold.

Coach flipped the ball to Eli and said, “Let’s see our number-one quarterback throw a square-out to our number-one receiver.”

Jamal smiled and stepped forward. He felt good being recognized as the guy with the best hands on the team.

“Where do you think you’re going, Jamal?” Coach Fort growled.

“You said the number-one receiver.”

“I sure did,” Coach Fort said, pointing at another player. “Malik, that means you.”

“Me, Coach?”

“Yes, you.”

Malik had been a backup wide receiver the year before. He wasn’t as sure-handed as Jamal, and he was a step slower. Malik lined up beside Eli. He ran a square-out and cut right at ten yards. Eli hit him in the hands with a perfect spiral, but Malik dropped the ball. He ran back to the group shaking his head. “Almost had it.”

“I could’ve caught that, Coach,” Jamal said. “When do I get my chance?”

“Oh, are you still on this team?” Coach asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know if you still wanted to be a member of the Saints because you didn’t show up for practice yesterday.” Coach stood in front of Jamal and stared him down.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Jamal.” Coach Fort’s face turned tomato red.

“But I had to work at McDonald’s.”

“I have to work too. That’s why I’m wearing this suit. I came here straight from the office. The office where I’m the president of a big company.” He held his fat arms out wide. “But I made a commitment to this team, so I’m here. I expect the same commitment from you.”

“He just missed one practice, Coach,” Billy said, shrugging. “What’s the big deal?”

“Yeah, we can’t just leave our jobs when we want like you do,” Darnell said.

Coach narrowed his eyes. “And the same goes for everyone else. Your number-one job now is playing football. Not flipping burgers at Mickey D’s. You’ll be doing that for the rest of your lives anyway.”

Jamal clenched his jaw. He worked at McDonald’s because he had to. It was a good job while he was in high school, but was he going to be doing it forever? Not a chance.

“What happens if we really can’t make it?” Billy asked.

“From now on, if anyone misses a practice he’s off the team. Unless you get hit by a bus crossing the street and break your leg, you better be here. If you’re not, then it’s game over. You’re toast. It’s that simple.”

Jamal heard the players grumbling as they went back to their passing drill. They were all shaking their heads. “That’s harsh, bro,” Darnell said as he walked away.

Jamal wanted to join them but knew he should stay back with Coach Fort. He wasn’t out of the doghouse yet.

Coach put his hands on his hips. “You’re lucky I’m not kicking you off the team. Now go and run five laps.”

“I thought you weren’t going to make the players run laps.”

“The real players don’t have to run. Just you.”

Jamal pursed his lips. He was angry and confused. He’d thought Coach Fort was on his side. That he wanted to help him get ahead. Give him an advantage. That didn’t seem to be the case. But here on the field, Coach was the boss. He called all the shots. If Jamal ever wanted to play wide receiver again, he knew he had to follow orders. He left his teammates practicing in the middle of the field while he ran around it.

Jamal and Darnell cruised down the hall. They were headed for the locker room. The first game of the season was still over an hour away, but they couldn’t wait. The whole school was eager for Southside to take the field. They passed a large blue-and-gold poster hung on the wall. It said
THE SAINTS
WILL
GO MARCHING IN!

“Good luck, Jamal,” a cute girl said, waving as she walked by.

Darnell punched Jamal lightly on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t have believed that if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

Jamal grinned. “Playing on the Saints rocks.”

He liked people knowing he was on the football team. He only hoped he was going to play. After Coach Fort had laid down the law about missing practice the other day, Jamal wasn’t sure he’d see any action.

He looked down the hall. He spotted Carlos speeding straight for them. He was dodging kids left and right. “We’ve got to get down to the locker room,” he said, out of breath.

“What’s the rush?” Jamal asked.

Darnell nodded. “We’ve got lots of time before the game, bro.”

“Something’s going on,” Carlos said. He turned and started taking long strides. “Let’s go.”

Jamal, Darnell and Carlos hurried down the hall. They dashed into the gym and pushed through the door. A big group
of players was huddled around someone’s locker.

“What’s going on?” Jamal asked.

“It’s Billy,” Rico said, shaking his head. “He’s quitting.”

Billy Chang was emptying his locker. The stocky center took out his helmet, pads and uniform and stuffed them into a big blue duffel bag.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jamal said.

“Yeah, I do,” Billy said sadly. “You heard Coach. If you miss just one practice, you’re out.”

“But you’re not missing a practice, man,” Rico said, trying to make a joke.

“No kidding!” Billy’s eyes popped wide. “I’m missing a whole game. First game of the year. What do you think Coach will say when I tell him that?”

“His face will probably turn extra pink and pop like a giant bubble-gum balloon,” Rico said.

“I know. So it’s best I clear out before the game.”

“What’s the deal?” Jamal asked. “How come you can’t play?”

“You know that small grocery store my parents run?”

“Yeah, the one in Chinatown.”

“The guy who stocks the shelves is sick. They need me to fill in.”

“Did you ask if you could get out of it?”

“Yeah, but my dad said no way. My mom said something worse in Chinese.”

Darnell shook his head. “But you’re our center. Who’s going to snap the ball to Eli and me?”

“We’ve got lots of good players,” Billy said before catching himself. He wasn’t a Saint anymore. “I mean,
you’ve
got lots of good players.” He closed his locker, slung the bag over his shoulder and started to walk away. “Tell Coach I’m sorry.”