Kickoff! (14 page)

The whole Eagle bench leapt into the air and let out a huge, triumphant yell.

“Okay, settle down, settle down!” Coach Spangler shouted, motioning them back down. “We don't need any penalties for hot-dogging!”

Adam kicked the extra point right through the uprights, and the Eagles had their first lead of the game—14–13. Then, on the kickoff, Adam really boomed one, knocking the ball right through the end zone.

“Man, that is the longest kick I've ever seen in junior high football!” Ronde heard Coach Pellugi say.

Ronde was proud of their friend, but he had to laugh. Back on Mews Hill Drive, none of them would have ever dreamed that Adam Gunkler would turn into a football star.

And now, after Tiki's big reception and run, there might be two Mews Hill stars on the team!
Too bad I'm not one of them,
Ronde thought with a sigh.

The Rockets weren't through, though—not by a long shot. They had almost won the conference championship last year, before losing to the Eagles in the playoffs. And like the Eagles, they were thinking this was their year to win it all.

The Rockets drove down the field, eating up the clock with run after run. The third quarter ended and the fourth began, and still the Rockets kept coming. They drove to the Eagles' four yard line.

First and goal, with the lead at stake!

On first down they tried throwing it into the end zone—but the receiver dropped the pass! On second down, a holding penalty set them back ten yards. Then a delay of game penalty set them back another five. And finally, a sack by Ira Gutzel set them back another ten yards.

On fourth down, the Rockets sent their field goal unit on. But the kick went wide, and the Eagles took over on their own twenty-nine yard line, still in the lead.

“One more touchdown, and this baby's ours!” Ronde heard Matt say as he took the field.

On first down, Matt looked for his wide receivers, then checked off to Tiki, who had slipped into the flat, and hit him with a short dump pass.

Tiki took the ball and turned to run downfield—but
he was creamed by three Rocket defenders, who all fell on top of him!

The ball must have come loose, because suddenly everyone was diving for it. Ronde watched in horror as one of the Rockets picked the ball up and ran it in for a touchdown! The home crowd cheered, whooping it up as their Rockets celebrated in the end zone.

“Nooo!!” Ronde moaned, along with everyone else on the Eagles' bench.

Then he looked back upfield to see where Tiki was—and he saw that his brother was still flat on his back, lying on the ground!

There was a small circle of players kneeling down at his side, and Coach Spangler was running out there as fast as he could.

Ronde ran, too. He didn't care anymore who won the game. He only cared whether Tiki was okay. He had to push a couple of people aside to get to his brother.

As he kneeled down beside him, Tiki opened his eyes. “Where am I?” he asked.

“You're on the football field, bro,” said Ronde, holding Tiki's hand tight. “You got knocked out cold.”

“Can you get up?” Coach Spangler asked.

“I . . . I think so,” Tiki said. Ronde grabbed one hand, Coach Spangler the other, and they hauled Tiki back to his feet. Everyone clapped—even the Rockets and their fans—appreciating Tiki's toughness.

Ronde draped his brother's arm around his back and helped him off the field. “You sure you're okay?” he kept asking.

“Everything's spinning,” Tiki said. “I just need to sit down awhile.”

“Take him to the bench and get him some water,” Coach Spangler told Ronde. “Coach Pellugi will keep an eye on him. Then you'd better get right back over here. We need you for the kickoff return.”

“Kickoff return?” Tiki mumbled. “What happened?”

“You got knocked out,” Ronde explained, “and the ball came loose.”

“Don't tell me . . .”

“They ran it in for a touchdown, man. Sorry.”

“Aw, man! I messed up big-time!”

“No, Tiki—it wasn't your fault, they just creamed you. Nobody could have held on to that one.”

“Aw, now we're gonna lose, and it's gonna be all my fault!”

“Barber!” Coach Spangler called.

“Don't worry, bro,” Ronde told his twin. “I'm gonna get those points back for us, right now,” he said.

Ronde's heart was already beating a mile a minute. He grabbed his helmet, crammed it down onto his head, fastened his chin strap, and ran out to take his position. He lined up at his own ten yard line and waited for the kick.

The score was now Rockets 20, Eagles 14, with only
eight minutes left to play. Ronde knew this might be his only chance to show what he could do—but more important, it was probably his only chance to help his team win the game.

The kick was not a good one—it was high enough, but it was wobbling crazily as it came down. Because it wasn't a long kick, Ronde had to run forward to catch it.

He knew that once he did, he'd be running full speed, right into the onrushing Rockets. If they hit him square, he'd have to hang on to the ball, no matter what!

But first, he had to
catch
it—no easy thing. The ball was spinning end-over-end, and also sideways. Ronde forced all thoughts of getting hit from his mind, and concentrated on the flight of the ball.

OOF!

It hit him right in the numbers. He grabbed it with both hands—cradling it, the way Matt had shown them—and gripped it tightly.

He didn't have time to look and see who was coming at him, and from where. But he knew he had to make a quick move to avoid
whoever
was coming. So he spun clockwise in a full circle to his left, and took off full speed, heading straight downfield.

As he went, he felt a hand reach out and grab for his jersey. It caught his sleeve, but because they were going in opposite directions, Ronde's speed allowed him to break free of the Rocket player's grip.

He saw two more white Rockets jerseys fly by him on either side, even though everything was a blur. Ronde's heart was pounding so hard, he thought it would burst right out of him and flop out onto the field—but he kept running anyway!

The Rockets were converging on him now from every direction. Ronde saw a tiny seam open to his right. He spun again—this time counter-clockwise—heading directly across the field to the right.

All the Rockets, who had been running the opposite way, now had to stop in their tracks and reverse course. While they were doing that, Ronde cut straight downfield again, breaking a tackle by the Rockets' kicker.

He could see the end zone ahead of him now! It seemed so close, and yet so far. From here on in, it was just a foot race between Ronde and one of the Rockets' speediest players. He chased Ronde down the sideline, only a few feet behind him.

Ronde ran for all he was worth. He could barely breathe, and his ears were stopped up by the pounding of his heart so that he couldn't hear the cheering from the Eagles' sideline.

But he knew his teammates were yelling their guts out for him to score. And Ronde was determined to make it all the way to the end zone.

When he was at the five, he could sense that the other boy was making a last lunging leap to try to catch him.
Ronde leapt forward too, stretching the ball out in front of him. He landed in the end zone, and hung on for dear life as the Rockets defender landed on top of him.

Touchdown!

Ronde lay there for a minute, trying to catch his breath. No sooner had he gotten to his feet than he was knocked over again by half a dozen of his joyful teammates, screaming and hollering. The stunned crowd was on their feet, cheering.

Finally, a hand reached out and grabbed Ronde's, hoisting him to his feet again.

“Tiki!”

“Yeah, it's me,” said his smiling twin.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Uh-huh. Thanks for picking me up, man,” Ronde said.

“No, thank
you
for picking
me
up,” Tiki told him. “You did it, bro—you came through big-time!”

The brothers walked off the field together, arms around each other's shoulders.

“I guess you
must
be feeling okay,” Ronde said.

“I'm fine, man. Never been better,” Tiki said, grinning from ear to ear.

His smile grew even wider when Adam kicked the extra point, giving the Eagles a 21–20 lead.

•   •   •

The rest of the game was a defensive battle, but the score never changed. The final gun sounded, and the Eagles all let out a victorious roar, hugging each other and jumping up and down.

Ronde sprinted straight into the locker room. He needed a minute by himself, just to make sense of everything that had happened. Had he really scored the winning touchdown in the Eagles' biggest game of the year?

Yes, he had.
The lowly third-stringer had come out of nowhere and surprised everybody!

“Ronde?” It was Tiki, standing in the locker room doorway. “Hey, man, everybody's looking for you! Come on, get back out there and get your props!”

“Me?”

Just then, the entire team came pouring through the doorway into the locker room, whooping and hollering at the tops of their lungs.

“Hey, there he is!” Bryce shouted. “Come on, little man—take your lumps!”

He grabbed Tiki, and with Boomer's help, hoisted him onto his shoulders as everybody rubbed his head.

“Ron-de! Ron-de! Ron-de!” they chanted, bouncing Tiki up and down.

“Hey, you guys,” Tiki protested. “Ronde's over there! I'm Tiki!”

“Huh?” Bryce let him down, and looked over to where
Ronde was sitting. “Oh, man, these little guys all look alike!”

Everyone laughed. Just then, Coach Spangler came in with the game ball in his hands. “Well, gentlemen,” he said. “I guess I know who this goes to.”

He handed it to Tiki. “That was one of the best runbacks I've seen in all my years at Hidden Valley. Great going, Barber.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Tiki said, as everyone laughed. “But you've got the wrong guy.”

Now it was Coach Spangler's turn to be embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said. “I've got to get your numbers memorized, because otherwise, I'll never be able to tell you two apart.”

“That's okay, Coach,” Ronde said.

“Just remember,” Tiki said, “we're two different people.”

“No,” Ronde corrected him, putting one arm around his brother and holding the game ball tightly with the other. “We're more than that—we're a team.”

THE CELEBRATION WENT ON FOR ABOUT TEN
more minutes. Then they all had to get showered and changed for the bus ride back to Hidden Valley, where their parents were waiting to pick them up.

On the bus, Coach Spangler addressed the assembled troops: “Guys, we can be very proud of what we did today,” he said. “That team was the best one we'll face all year. In fact, if you throw the Bears in, we've already beaten our stiffest competition of the season.

“At the beginning of the year, I said I thought we had a chance to go undefeated. I feel even better about that possibility now.”

Everyone yelled, cheered, and pounded the walls of the bus with their fists to make even more noise. But just by raising his hand, Coach Spangler turned the noise to silence in seconds.

“But we're not going to get there by letting up,” he warned them. “Those other teams may not be as good as the Bears or the Rockets—but any team can beat any
other team on any given day. That's the great thing about this game of football, and we're no exception to the rule. We've got to go out there every week and give it our maximum effort, or one day we're gonna lose one of those so-called easy games. And if we do, we'll have only ourselves to blame. Remember, players make plays, but teams win championships.”

The silence was deafening, as all the players thought long and hard about what he'd said.

“Now, I've already talked to Jeff and Jesse. They're gonna be okay in a few weeks. But that still means we'll have to win with our subs next week.” He smiled, for the first time in his speech. “But I think we've found some good talent today,” he said, looking straight at the Barber boys.

The bus erupted into cheers again, and everyone reached out to slap Tiki and Ronde on the back, the head, or the arm. They were so into it, the twins had to duck to avoid getting hurt.

After his speech was over, Coach Spangler came over to them. “Good game, boys,” he said. “Both of you. I like the way you play the game, and speed never hurts, either.” He sighed. “But I want you to know that once those other guys are ready to come back, you two are back to being subs.”

His words took Tiki totally by surprise. He could feel Ronde recoil next to him, too. “But—”

“You played great today, like I said,” the coach assured
them. “But I've still gotta be loyal to my veterans. After all, they've put in the time and the hard work. Hey, if it was you, you'd want me to be loyal to you, wouldn't you?”

Tiki and Ronde were silent. They couldn't argue with that.

“But don't worry—now that I know what you guys can do in a big spot, you'll be getting plenty of chances from here on in. And next year?” He laughed, and clapped them both on the back. “Next year, the sky's the limit!”

Those were the words Tiki had longed to hear since he first dreamed of coming to Hidden Valley Junior High. They made him glow with happiness, from the top of his head right down to the tips of his toes. “Thanks, Coach,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks!” Ronde echoed.

The bus pulled into the parking lot, and all the kids got out. Mrs. Barber was waiting for Tiki and Ronde with a big smile on her face, and a camera in her hand.