Go Long! Page 3

  Tiki looked up and frowned. “Man,” he said, “that’s nice for him. But what about us?”

  “Yeah,” Ronde agreed, “he could at least have said something when we were practicing the other day.” He felt annoyed at Matt, even though he could understand his friend’s excitement.

  “Maybe he didn’t know then,” Tiki said, getting up from the table. “It’s amazing how fast stuff gets around, though.”

  “Uh-huh,” Ronde agreed. “Looks like we were the last ones to know.”

  “You got that right. Nobody thinks about the younger kids.”

  “They’ll probably hire the school custodian to be our new coach,” Ronde said bitterly.

  Tiki made a disgusted face. “I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.”

  • • •

  “Cover two! Cover two!”

  Hearing Coach Pellugi’s call, Ronde shifted his position in the backfield for the upcoming play. “Cover two” was the standard defense for a pass play.

  Coach Pellugi, the Eagles’ defensive coach, had been running practices over the last two days. The routine was identical to what they’d done preseason last year, but the mood was totally different.

  “Hut! Hut-hut!” Cody shouted, and the center snapped the ball. The wide receivers took off downfield. Ronde’s man, a seventh grader brand new to the team, faked to the outside, then went long.

  Ronde figured he’d have no problem keeping up—after all, he and Tiki were the fastest ones on the team. But the new kid already had two steps on him and was gaining ground when Cody’s pass fell into his arms in perfect stride.

  Ronde was beaten, and he knew it. Still, he knew he could chase this kid down if he really gave it everything he had—but he just didn’t have it in him. Not in his heart. Not today.

  “Barber!” Coach Pellugi barked at him. “Sit yourself on the bench and take a rest until you decide you’re ready to play!”

  The blood rushed to Ronde’s face as he trotted over to the sideline and sat down. He left his helmet on, not wanting anyone to see how upset he was. He hated being yelled at—especially in front of people.

  Coach Pellugi was much harder on his players than Coach Spangler, thought Ronde. But somehow, that didn’t make them want to play harder for him. It just made them feel bad about themselves.

  Tiki came over and sat down next to him. “Forget it, Ronde,” he said. “He’s not even the real coach.”

  “Yes he is,” Ronde replied. “At least till they name somebody else. And Coach Spangler told us to listen to our coach, whoever it is.”

  “I guess you’re right . . .” Tiki sighed. “I hope they find somebody soon. We’ve got a game to play next week! We’ll never be ready, the way we’re going.”

  It was true, Ronde thought. None of the veteran players was putting his heart into practices. It was like they were all waiting for the new coach to come and rescue them.

  If Matt Clayton was still here, Ronde thought, he would have rallied the team behind him and got their spirits back up.

  Ronde wished he could be a leader like that. But he wasn’t the kind to stand up in front of people and make a speech. Ronde liked to let his game speak for him.

  The trouble was, he was off his game at the moment. They all were.

  • • •

  After practice that day, talk among the Eagles turned to who might be picked as the new head coach.

  “It’s gonna be Mr. Pellugi,” Paco said. “Why else would they let him run the show in the meantime?”

  “If they were gonna pick him, why’d they bother to do a search?” Adam pointed out. “I know they interviewed a couple coaches from out of town.”

  “Right, that guy from Blacksburg—what was his name?” John Berra asked.

  “And the assistant coach from North Side High,” Fred Soule added.

  “They interviewed my cousin Nels, too,” Cody said. “I bet they pick him. He was a linebacker at Clemson, and he’s coached winning teams at Ashville High for two years.”

  Ronde sure hoped they didn’t pick Cody’s cousin. Cody was stuck up enough as it was—with his cousin as the coach, he could, and would, get away with just about anything. And he would get all the playing time, too.

  Ronde and Tiki looked one another in the eye. They didn’t say a word, but then, they didn’t have to. As always, each knew what the other was thinking—that the Eagles’ season was hanging in the balance and that everything was riding on who the new coach would turn out to be.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE NEW GUY

  * * *

  ON FRIDAY MORNING, THERE WAS A “WELCOME BACK” assembly. The school’s principal, Dr. Bernadette Anand, rose to address the students.

  “Welcome back, everyone,” she began. “We’re going to have another great year at Hidden Valley!”

  There was polite applause, and some of the ninth-grade girls jumped up and yelled, “YEAH! WOO-HOO!”

  “To begin with, let me introduce you to our new football coach,” she went on.

  Tiki sat forward in his seat, holding his breath. He looked across the auditorium, over to where Ronde was sitting with his class. Ronde had his eyes closed, and his hands were clasped in prayer.

  Tiki knew what Ronde was thinking—Please, don’t let it be Mr. Pellugi or Cody’s cousin Nels!

  “We’ve only had a week to search for a coach, because this situation happened quite suddenly,” said Dr. Anand. “But we’ve found a solution we think will allow us to move forward. We won’t have to go outside the school’s family to find a great coach, because we already have someone in our midst who knows a good deal about football.”

  Here it comes, Tiki thought. She’s going to pick Mr. Pellugi, or maybe Mr. Ontkos, the offensive coach.

  “He was once headed for the ranks of NFL professionals before a serious injury ended his football career,” said the principal. “Here he is, your new Eagles head coach, our own . . . Mr. Sam Wheeler!”

  “Huh?” Tiki couldn’t believe it. Mr. Wheeler? His old Science teacher from last year? The guy who used to throw balled-up wads of paper at kids who didn’t pay attention in class?

  Sure, he was a great teacher—much better than Mr. Mills, say—but Mr. Wheeler hadn’t been near a football field in years! How was he going to step in, take over the Eagles, and lead them to a championship?

  “Quiet down, please!” Dr. Anand begged as the hall erupted in cheers and chattering among the students.

  Everyone had an opinion, and everyone’s opinion was different. But there was one thing they all had in common: They were in a state of total shock.

  • • •

  “This is so messed up!” Cody complained in the locker room as they all got suited up for practice. “This whole season is going to be a total waste!”

  “Come on, Hansen,” Paco said. “It’s not that bad. Wheeler’s a cool dude.”

  “Oh, yeah. So cool,” Cody mocked. “The guy has never coached a single day in his entire life—not even Peewee League!”

  Tiki liked Mr. Wheeler. And he remembered seeing him throw a pass to Matt Clayton, just for fun, that was the longest throw he’d ever seen.

  Tiki wanted to tell the other kids about it, but he was afraid Cody would make him look ridiculous. What if the rest of the kids laughed at him? No, it wasn’t worth the risk.

  Then Tiki remembered how his mom was always telling Ronde and him to stand up for themselves. “Never be afraid to speak out,” she would say.

  So Tiki took a deep breath and said, “I think Mr. Wheeler might . . . work out okay . . .”

  “Huh?” Cody turned to him in shock. “What did you just say?”

  “I mean . . .” Tiki could feel the cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I mean, he was once headed to the NFL as a quarterback, right? He must know something about the game . . . don’t you think?”

  “Barber,” Cody said patiently, as if he were talking to a small child, “playing is one thing, and coaching is another. They’
re totally different, okay?”

  “I guess,” Tiki muttered, backing down. There was no sense in arguing with Cody, because he could out-argue anybody. Besides, just then, Mr. Wheeler came charging into the room.

  “Hey, team!” he said, clapping his hands sharply twice. “Everybody ready to hit this season running?”

  If Mr. Wheeler expected a loud cheer, he didn’t get one. Instead, a long, stony silence greeted him. The players looked down at the floor or away or anywhere but at their new coach.

  “Listen, boys,” Mr. Wheeler said, “I know you miss Coach Spangler. He’s a great coach, and I know there’s no point in me trying to be him. So you guys are going to have to get used to the fact that I’m the coach now, and what I say goes.

  “I realize it’s a big blow to any team to lose their coach right before the season starts. But we’ve got to live in the here and now—meaning I’m here, and the season starts now!”

  He barked the word “now” so loudly that half the kids on the team flinched in surprise.

  Tiki smiled to himself. He knew Mr. Wheeler’s little tricks, his sneaky ways of getting your attention and keeping you focused. Something told Tiki that in spite of all the odds, the Eagles’ new coach might work out just fine.

  Mr. Wheeler watched practice that day as Coach Pellugi and Coach Ontkos ran the players through their paces. Afterward, while the boys were changing back into street clothes, their new head coach addressed them for the first time.

  “Look, guys,” he said, “I’ve got a lot of preparation to do, so I’m going to let Coach Pellugi and Coach Ontkos run the team for the season opener on Thursday.”

  A murmur of shock and surprise filled the room. Tiki heard Cody mutter, “Coach Spangler would never sit around taking notes while his assistant coaches ran the game.”

  Tiki wished Mr. Wheeler had heard Cody. If he had, he surely would have thrown a rolled-up ball of paper at Cody’s head, like he sometimes did when kids fell asleep in his class.

  But the coach must not have heard, because he went right on talking. “In the meantime, I’ll be watching you practice, taking notes, and . . . well, you’ll see what else. Good work today, and keep your chins up, Eagles. We’re going to show the whole league how a good team can overcome a setback like this. You’ll see. We’re going to be fine—no, better than fine. We’re gonna surprise everyone, and show them how it’s done.”

  “Yeah,” Tiki heard Cody mutter, “by finishing dead last.”

  Again, Mr. Wheeler didn’t notice. “Before you leave, here’s a final thought to chew on. This team is loaded with physical talent. From what Coach Spangler tells me, we’re even deeper than last year, when we won the District Championship.

  “But if we start letting negative thoughts take over our minds, we won’t be able to live up to our physical talents—because football is a mental game, too.”

  “It’s not the game that’s mental,” Cody whispered, loud enough for the nearest kids to hear. “It’s the coach.”

  Obviously, Coach Wheeler was too far away to hear him. Tiki knew that if he’d heard, Wheeler would have nailed Cody with a paper ball right between the eyes.

  “If you guys can accept the way things are and move forward,” Wheeler was saying, “you can be champions again—maybe even go farther than last year. It’s all about your mental preparation. So let’s see how tight you can screw your heads on for Thursday’s game!”

  He clapped his hands twice, signaling that they were free to go. Tiki grabbed his book bag and joined Ronde as they headed for the exit.

  “What did you think of all that?” Ronde asked him.

  “I don’t know, man.” Tiki shook his head. “Everything Mr. Wheeler said is true, but I don’t know if he can get the team to believe in it.”

  • • •

  “Listen to this,” Ronde said, holding up the Roanoke Reporter as they sat at the breakfast table the following Wednesday.

  “‘NEW COACH NAMED FOR EAGLES. Mr. Sam Wheeler, Science teacher for the past three years at Hidden Valley Junior High, has been named the school’s new football coach, following the departure of much-loved Steve “Spanky” Spangler for Cave Spring High School.

  “‘Wheeler has never held a coaching job before but was once a highly prized NFL prospect. Knee surgeries derailed his professional football career, but Wheeler believes he’s learned enough along the way to be successful with the Eagles. “The talent is there,” he said in an interview, “it’s all about their mental game.” Wheeler says he believes in the power of the mind to affect the performance of the body.’”

  Ronde rolled his eyes. “If we lose, they’re going to take this guy apart, Tiki.”

  “Him? What about us?”

  “Yeah, you got that right,” Ronde agreed, folding up the paper. “With him talking so much about the ‘mental game,’ if we lose tomorrow, people won’t just think we’re bad—they’ll think we’re dumb!”

  • • •

  The Eagles’ first game was at home, against the Badgers of William Byrd Junior High, and the stands were packed to the gills.

  Checking out the cheerleaders, Ronde saw that they were mostly returnees from last year. That explained why they had their routines so totally down. It was awesome, he thought, the way they could throw each other ten or fifteen feet in the air like that.

  Everyone on the team was full of energy, hopping up and down, as Mr. Pellugi gathered them around on the sideline before the opening kickoff.

  “Okay, boys, we’ve won the toss, so let’s start off with a bang. We’re playing a team that went four and twelve last season. We beat them pretty easily, too, as those of you who were here remember.

  “But I don’t want you to get overconfident. On any given day, any given team can beat any other. So don’t take anything for granted, okay? Now get out there, and give it everything you’ve got!”

  Ronde strapped on his helmet and ran onto the field to receive the opening kickoff. Tiki waited and watched, knowing his turn would come soon enough.

  The kick was high and short, and Tiki thought Ronde would surely signal for a fair catch. But no—Ronde seemed determined to, as the coach had said, “start off with a bang.” He caught the ball, then took a quick step to his left, dodging the flying leap of the fastest of the Badgers.

  But because the kick had been so high, there were at least four other Badgers coming for him, and Ronde had no chance to get a head of steam going. Before he knew what hit him, he was flat on his back, and the ball was loose!

  Players from both teams piled up on top of each other, and it took the referees a long time to peel them off the pile. But when it was over, they signaled that the Badgers had recovered the fumble.

  Ronde got up slowly and walked off the field, yanking off his helmet in disgust. Tiki could tell his brother was close to tears.

  “Man, what is wrong with me?” Ronde said as he sat down next to Tiki. “What a way to start the season!”

  “Hey,” Tiki said, giving him a little shove, “remember what Coach said!”

  “Which coach?”

  “You know—Coach Wheeler. He said not to let negative thoughts take over our minds.”

  “Man, I don’t know how to stop them,” Ronde said.

  Tiki was silent. He didn’t know how either.

  Things quickly went from bad to worse, as the Badgers pushed in for a quick touchdown and point after. It was 7–0, and the stands were as silent as a graveyard.

  “Don’t worry, Ronde,” Tiki told him. “Look, now you get another chance. You can do it, man—just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  “Just, if it’s a high kick, and you see you’ve got no room to run, call for a fair catch.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Ronde said bitterly.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Ronde trotted out, leaving Tiki sitting there, stung by his brother’s anger.

  This time, Ronde managed to hold on to
the ball, even though he got practically nowhere against the fierce special-teams rush of the Badgers.

  Now it was Tiki’s turn. The offense trotted onto the field, and Cody gathered them into the huddle. “Okay, forget about Ronde and his butterfingers,” Cody told them. “We’ve got a game to win.”

  Tiki felt like grabbing Cody and shaking him. Who did he think he was, anyway? The big cheese of all time? How dare he diss Ronde like that?

  “Look, Cody, you’d better knock it off,” he started to say.

  “You gonna argue with me, Barber? Or are you gonna play football?” Cody replied.

  Tiki wanted to answer back, but he knew that on one level, Cody was right—they were in the middle of the game, and the clock was ticking down. If they didn’t run a play, they’d be penalized—and that was the last thing Tiki wanted.

  “Ohio State, on two,” Cody said, repeating the play Coach had sent him onto the field with. Ohio State was a running play, where the halfback was supposed to run through the hole created by the offensive tackle’s block.

  Tiki took a deep breath as he got down into his three-point stance. His first run of the new season—he had to make it a good one!

  Cody yelled, “Twenty-four . . . sixty-three . . . hut-hut!” and took the snap from center. He dropped back, then slipped Tiki the ball.

  Tiki took it, put his head down, and charged straight ahead into the hole created by Paco, who had knocked his man to the ground.

  Looking up, Tiki could see daylight, and he bulled forward until he was hit by the weak-side linebacker.

  He hit the ground hard, with one, two, three, then four defenders piling onto him, knocking the wind out of him. They kept clawing at the ball, trying to create a fumble. But Tiki held on, gripping the ball for dear life.

  Finally, the refs pulled the defenders off him. Tiki got to his feet and trotted back to the huddle, huffing and puffing.

  Coach Ontkos sent Fred Johnson in with the play he wanted Cody to run. “Oklahoma,” said Fred.

  It was another running play for Tiki—but he still hadn’t caught his breath! He wished Coach Ontkos had called a different play—a play for someone else.