Go Long! (11 page)

•   •   •

Right away, it was clear that Wheeler was right—North Side's coach had made some key changes at halftime. A lot of the tricks the Eagles had used to throw them off balance in the first half weren't working anymore.

On the Eagles' first drive, they notched two quick first downs on runs by Tiki, putting the Eagles close to midfield.

Coach Wheeler sent in the next play—another run, but this time for Joey Gallagher coming around end.

But to everyone's surprise, when it came time to hand the ball to Joey, Cody kept it himself! He headed downfield but was quickly blindsided by North Side's defensive end—and coughed up the ball for a fumble!

Cody got up slowly, brushing himself off. He turned on his own blockers in fury. “Hit somebody, for Pete's sake!” he shouted as they came off the field. “I'm getting killed here!”

His blockers stared after him, not saying anything. But as they got to the sidelines, Ronde could see them all shaking their heads. They were all much bigger than Cody, but none of them was brave enough to stand up to him.

Cody was mad, all right. Steaming mad. And he got
even madder when, on first down, North Side ran a trick play—a flea-flicker that resulted in a touchdown that tied the game at 21–all!

It was Sam Scarfone who had missed the key tackle on the play. Sam, like Cody, had skipped Coach Wheeler's video sessions. If he'd been there, Ronde thought, he would have seen North Side's flea-flicker and known how to stop it. Because he'd missed the sessions, he was caught flat-footed.

Ronde knew that Sam was best friends with Cody and had chosen loyalty to his friend over what was best for the team—going to the video sessions like all the rest of them.

Ronde jogged onto the field and took the kickoff, but he didn't get far. North Side must have gone to school on his moves during halftime, because they were ready for him when he spun around and changed direction—and they nailed him at the twenty-five yard line.

Ronde ran back to the sidelines and was headed for the bench when he passed Cody, who was getting up and strapping on his helmet.

Just then, Coach Wheeler approached Cody. “Hansen!” he barked. “Stay right here.”

“Huh?”

“I'm putting Manny in for this series.”

“No way!” Cody protested. “You're taking me out for a rookie?”

“I want you to sit here and think about things,” Wheeler said.

“Think about what?” Cody shot back. “About how our whole season's about to go down the drain?”

Ronde's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe Cody had just talked back to the head coach like that!

“Think whatever you want,” Wheeler said. “But when you ignore the plays I've sent in, that's the last straw.”

“I'm sorry, okay?” Cody backed down. “I'll run the plays like you call them.”

“Not till I put you back in there, you won't,” Coach Wheeler said, holding firm. “In the meantime, sit here, root for your teammates, and think about why I took you out of the game.”

With that, Wheeler turned to Manny. “Okay, Alvaro—get in there and play some football!”

Manny, who had played only a couple of downs so far this whole season, could not contain his excitement. Clapping his hands together and jumping up and down, he yelled, “Okay, okay, okay—let's go, Eagles!” He darted out onto the field, so fast that the rest of the offense had to run full speed to catch up to him.

Cody threw his helmet to the ground and stamped his feet, but he could only watch as Manny, the seventh-grade rookie, proceeded to hand the ball off to Tiki.

Tiki ran behind Paco, straight at the North Side left tackle—just as Coach Wheeler had shown him on
the tape. The left tackle was the big weak spot on the Rockets' defensive line, and he was flat on his back after Paco's big hit.

Tiki sprinted by, running straight down the middle of the field and taking it all the way into the end zone!

Everyone cheered, jumping up and down. Everyone, that is, except for Cody, who sat there sulking, angry that he wasn't a part of it.

On the Eagles' next possession, Manny guided them down the field, with Coach Wheeler mixing runs and passes to keep North Side's defense off balance. They got all the way down into the red zone—but then Manny overthrew Fred Soule in the end zone on third down.

“That's okay, Manny,” Coach Wheeler said to the rookie quarterback as he came back to the bench, clearly upset. “Don't worry about it. Everyone makes mistakes. Next time you'll get 'em!” He patted Manny on the shoulder.

The rookie nodded, feeling a little better, and took a seat.

“Man!” Cody muttered, stamping his feet as he paced at the far end of the bench near Ronde. “If I was in there, we'd have had that touchdown!”

Ronde didn't say what he wanted to say—that Cody already had three interceptions and a fumble today and had no right to moan and groan about Manny's mistakes. Besides, they were up ten points now, and Manny had done a pretty good job, all things considered.

Everybody knew Cody was talented. You could see he had a fantastic arm and was big and strong to boot. But his accuracy disappeared whenever he was upset—and he got upset
a lot
!

Adam's fourth down field goal made the score 31–21, Eagles. But North Side, always a good team in years past, still had a few aces left to play. They turned a botched handoff into a touchdown pass, thrown right over the Eagles' other cornerback, Matthew Schulz's little brother, Andrew.

Luckily, time ran out before North Side could get their hands on the ball again.

“Thank goodness!” Tiki breathed when the gun finally sounded. “At least our season is still alive.”

“Yeah,” Ronde agreed sullenly. “But for how long? If this team doesn't get its act together fast, we're gonna lose another game—and that'll be the end of our season.”

Tiki knew it was true, even though none of them had ever said so out loud before. If the Eagles lost one more game, that would make three. No team with three losses had made it into the playoffs in the past ten years.

They were two and two now. A record of ten and two would do the trick. Anything less, and they might be watching the playoffs as spectators. And with their number one quarterback riding the bench for bad behavior, what
chance did they really have to go through the rest of the season undefeated?

“This can't go on any longer,” Tiki said. “We've got to do something about it.”

“Who, us?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know,” said Tiki, “but we'd better think of something fast if we want to save our season.”

“MOM, CAN'T WE PLEASE STOP AT KESSLER'S?” RONDE
begged, tugging at her sleeve. “I'm hungry!”

“And I'm
tired
of shopping,” Tiki moaned. “It's been two hours already. Come on, Mom, we need a break!”

Mrs. Barber laughed and said, “You boys are outgrowing all your clothes—you
need
to go shopping!”

It was true, Ronde knew. Both he and Tiki were
finally
starting to hit their growth spurt. They were still two of the smaller kids on the team, but not for much longer. . . .

“We've been lugging these shopping bags all over downtown,” Ronde protested. “Our arms are tired!”

“Yeah!” Tiki agreed. “We need lunch! We're growing boys!”

“You've got no problem lifting weights with the football team, but shopping bags are too much for you, huh?” Mrs. Barber said, her hands on her hips. “Oh, all right. Tell you the truth, I'm getting kind of hungry too.”

“YES!” both boys shouted, and they ran down the street to everyone's favorite lunch and ice cream place.

It was two o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, and
Kessler's was just about full. The Barbers had to weave their way, shopping bags and all, between the tables to the far corner, where they were seated and given menus.

“Mom, see over there?” Tiki said, pointing across the restaurant to the lunch counter. “There's Coach Wheeler!”

“Where?”

“Right over there—see?”

“Oh, yes—my, my, he really looks like an Eagle, doesn't he? Just perfect for the team!” She looked at her sons. “Well, aren't you boys going to go over there and say hello?”

Tiki and Ronde got up and approached Mr. Wheeler, who was sitting alone at the counter, eating a sandwich.

“Hey, Coach,” they greeted him.

“Oh, hi, guys,” he said. “How's everything going?”

“Well, uh . . .” Ronde shot Tiki a quick look and knew that Tiki was thinking the same thing. “We're kind of worried, actually.”

“I see,” said Wheeler, nodding. “I know what's bothering you. It's Cody Hansen, isn't it?”

Ronde nodded. “Coach, if we lose one more game, we might not make the playoffs. And we aren't even playing like a team!”

“You think I shouldn't have gone with the new kid—Manny?” Wheeler asked.

“No, that was the right move,” Tiki said.

“Yeah, Cody deserved it. But . . .”

“But what?” Wheeler asked.

“But . . . I mean, Manny's good and all . . . I mean, he's gonna be good someday, but . . .”

“You think our only chance is to get Cody straight. Right?”

“That's it!” Tiki said, grateful that Coach Wheeler had spelled it out for him.

“You think Coach Spangler would put him back in next week?”

“I don't think so,” Tiki said. “Not unless Cody stops being such a jerk.”

Mr. Wheeler nodded. “Right. But I haven't got any idea how to turn him around.” He sighed sadly. “I guess I'm a good teacher but a lousy coach, huh? Funny, I always thought I'd be good at it. I guess you never know till you try.”

“Come on, Coach,” Tiki said. “Just act like you do in the classroom when one of us acts up! Come down hard on Cody until he backs down.”

“It's different,” Wheeler said. “In class, my job is to teach kids, to make sure they understand the lesson. But in coaching, that's not enough. You also have to be able to lead. And that means you have to be able to make kids
follow
you.”

“But Coach,” Ronde said, “most of us
are
following you. At least, we are
now
.”

“Yes, all except the most important guy on the team. Cody has set himself up as the leader, and there doesn't seem to be room for the both of us.”

He shrugged. “I don't want to start a rookie at quarterback when we can't afford to lose even one more game. But what's the alternative? To let Cody keep trashing everything I try to accomplish? Let's face it, if I bench him next game, and Manny fizzles, I'll get blamed anyway. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I got fired if we lose another game anytime soon.”

“Coach, could I make a suggestion?” Ronde asked.

“Sure, Tiki, go ahead.”

“It's, um, Ronde,” said Ronde.

“Really?” Wheeler shook his head and smiled. “Amazing. Just amazing . . . anyway, let's hear it, Ronde.”

“I think you should have a talk with Cody—privately, when it won't embarrass him. I mean, I know he wants to win as much as any of us do. Maybe he'd listen if you took the time to explain things.”

“I know that's what Coach Spangler would have done if he were still around,” Tiki agreed.

Someone cleared his throat behind them, and the boys turned around.

“Coach Spangler!” Ronde gasped. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Hey, can't a guy get a sandwich?” he asked with
a laugh. “Actually, I'm on a break from practice, and I thought I'd drop in for a bite to eat.”

“Well, have a seat, Steve,” Mr. Wheeler said.

“Thanks, but I'm getting it to go,” said Spangler. “Listen, Sam,” he said, putting a hand on Wheeler's shoulder. “You see these two kids here?”

Wheeler nodded. “I know. They're gonna be big-time players someday.”

Ronde beamed, swelling with pride. Tiki was all smiles too.

“I agree,” Spangler said. “And when they're done with that, they might want to consider being coaches. I mean, they're learning fast. That was some terrific advice I heard them give you just now.”

“You
heard
that?” Ronde moaned. “Oh, no!”

“Don't be embarrassed, Tiki—you were totally right!”

“Um, it's Ronde,” Mr. Wheeler corrected him.

Coach Spangler shook his head and smiled. “You boys are going to have to start wearing your uniforms all the time so people can tell you apart.”

Ronde grinned, and Mr. Wheeler winked at him and Tiki. “Even
that
doesn't do the trick anymore,” he said. “They sometimes switch clothes.”

They all laughed. “Seriously, though, Steve,” Mr. Wheeler said. “How am I going to talk to that kid? He's a handful—you know him.”

“I do,” Spangler said, “and I know how I'd handle
him. But you've got to do it your own way, Sam.”

He clapped Wheeler on the back. “You can do it—I know you can. Get your mental game together, Coach.” He looked at Ronde, then at Tiki. “If these kids can do it, so can you.”

•   •   •

Ronde was ten minutes late, and in a state of total panic—he'd never been this late for a practice before!

On the Eagles, if you were late, you had to pay a fine. Not in money, but in some dumb stunt the other players would make you do, like wearing your winter coat to school on a hot day, or wearing shorts in the winter.

If only Ms. Rosa hadn't made the kids stay until they'd copied the entire algebra assignment from the blackboard. It was a series of formulae that Ronde kept getting mixed up, and he had to erase his figures and rewrite them a bunch of times.