First and Ten (9 page)

Silence all around.

“I told the kids who were involved that I am the coach and I call the plays,” Coach Reynolds continued. “Is that clear to everybody else out here?”

Heads nodded.

“Okay, then. You should all know that Ricky Jackson has been suspended for two games for not listening to instructions at Central. It wasn't that he messed up. I can handle mistakes. But I will not tolerate players ignoring my directions. Just so you know, Ricky will be practicing with us for the next two weeks but not playing.”

The players looked around. Jackson wasn't on the field. Matt wondered why.

“Because of Jackson's suspension, we are also now looking for a placekicker,” the coach continued. “So at the end of practice today, I want any of you interested in that job to come see me. We'll have a little try-out.”

Matt wasn't interested in kicking, but he was curious to see how Charlie Dougan would do up against other players. After practice had finished, he took a seat on the sidelines with a handful of others to watch the group of four kids assembled in front of Coach Reynolds.

Both the Evans twins were trying out, and so was Kyle James, the team's starting quarterback. Charlie was facing some stiff competition, Matt thought. This was going to be interesting.

“Hill,” yelled the coach, “I need somebody to hold for these guys. Thanks for volunteering.”

Matt hadn't exactly volunteered, but he didn't mind. He sprang off his seat on the sidelines and took up a position a few yards behind Phil, who would be snapping footballs to him.

The quartet of placekicking hopefuls began with ten-yard fieldgoal attempts from the middle of the field and at angles from both sides. These were just chip shots, and only Reggie Evans had trouble with one of his kicks, sending it wide left.

Coach Reynolds had all the players move back ten yards. Now it would get interesting. Charlie Dougan went first. After the snap came back to Matt, Dougan calmly stepped into the ball with his right foot. The football split the uprights perfectly, with plenty of distance to spare.

“Nice boot, Charlie,” Coach Reynolds said.

Only Dougan, Ron Evans and Kyle James were able to hit with any consistency from twenty yards. Coach Reynolds then moved those three back to the thirty-yard line. This was serious distance for a middle-school kicker, Matt thought. He wondered if any of them would be able to make it from here.

James went first this time. The Stingers' quarterback had plenty of leg strength, but he wasn't accurate from this distance, pulling two of his three attempts badly wide. Evans was next, but this was clearly out of his range. The redheaded linebacker was short by at least five yards on each of his attempts, while his twin brother Reggie snickered from the sidelines.

That left Charlie Dougan. Matt wondered what was going through the head of the ninth-grader. Here was a kid who had picked up towels and equipment and basically babysat others through baseball and football seasons. Now he was actually getting a shot at playing. Matt couldn't help but think that he'd be nervous in this situation if it were him trying out in front of the coach and other players.

But if Charlie was nervous, he certainly wasn't showing it. On each of his three attempts, he stepped up calmly to the ball and rocketed it through the middle of the uprights. They were perfect field goals, still with distance to spare even at thirty yards.

“I think we've found our kicker,” said Coach Reynolds. “And we've lost one heckuva manager.”

Charlie beamed through his helmet as he high-fived Phil and Matt. The other kicker candidates also came over to congratulate Dougan. They all felt good for him.

Matt, Phil and Charlie walked toward the locker room together. “This is gonna seem weird,” Dougan said, pulling off his helmet. “I'm used to cleaning up the messes, not making them.”

Matt laughed. “Hey, where did that leg come from?” he asked. “I mean, you wore that big brace for so long. How can you just come out and boot it like that?”

Charlie smiled. He had suffered from Perthes' disease, a condition where not enough blood was reaching his hip, and he had worn a bulky brace on his left leg for about a year. He had expected to wear the brace for another year, but doctors had told him late this summer that his condition had improved enough to remove it early.

“My right leg got stronger from helping the left one out all the time when it was in the brace,” Dougan said. “A fringe benefit for me, I guess.”

They had just turned the corner toward the locker room when they heard the yelling coming from the doorway. Up ahead was Coach Reynolds. Doing all the yelling was Mr. Jackson, who was standing in front of his silent son Ricky.

“First you suspend him and now you got a gimp taking over his job?” Mr. Jackson was red-faced as he spat the words out at Coach Reynolds. “You're not going to get away with this crap.”

With that, Ricky's dad stormed off, pulling his son along with him. Coach Reynolds headed straight into the locker room. Matt and Phil looked at each other and then at Charlie. The word
gimp
was still hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

“Don't worry about it,” Matt said quietly. “The guy's a jerk. I mean, I kind of feel sorry for Ricky. He doesn't seem like a bad kid.”

“I'm not worried,” Charlie replied, trying to sound like he would have no problem shrugging it off. Still, Matt could tell that a little of the wind had been taken out of his sails.

“Hey, guys,” Phil interjected. “Why don't you come over to the store tonight and we can watch
Monday Night Football
?”

“Sounds good,” Matt said. “Count me in.”

“Me too,” said Charlie.

After a quiet dinner with his mom that night, Matt jumped on his bike and pedaled the eight blocks to Wong's Grocery, the tiny corner store that Phil's grandmother had operated for decades. He pulled his bike up to the black iron rack at the front of the store. The lights were glowing softly inside, and through the store's front window Matt could see Phil's grandmother behind the counter. He opened the door with the 7-Up logo on the wide white handle and stepped inside. The smell of penny candy from the dual aisles near the counter hit him immediately. It was a smell that brought back memories of days spent with Phil in the store, playing video games, watching baseball on tv and just hanging out. It was a good smell, Matt thought.

“Hello, Matt,” Phil's grandmother beamed, rushing around the counter to give him a hug. “My Lucky Boy!”

Matt felt his cheeks growing red. Phil's grandmother had nicknamed him “Lucky Boy” years ago. Matt wasn't sure what it meant, exactly— whether he was a lucky boy himself or whether he was some sort of good-luck charm for Phil's grandmother. Either way, it made him feel warm inside.

“Hey, Mattster,” Phil said, strolling out from the back room with Charlie Dougan. “Come on back, the game's just getting started.”

Matt smiled at Phil's grandmother and passed through the red curtain into the back room, which was sort of a combination living room and bedroom. This was where Phil's grandmother lived. But she had always opened it up to Phil and his friends as a place to hang out. Meanwhile, the boys helped her around the store with odd jobs whenever she needed it.

The three boys munched on potato chips and chocolate milk as they watched the
Monday
Night Football
game between Seattle and New England. Matt marveled at the size and speed of these nfl players. By comparison, middle school players were shrimps who moved in slow motion.

“We celebrate tonight,” exclaimed Phil's grandmother, carrying a small chocolate cake into the back room and laying it in front of the boys. In the middle of the cake sat a plastic football figure, frozen in a kicking motion. “This is Charlie's special day.”

Charlie's eyes grew wide as he realized the cake was for him. Phil and his grandma had cooked up a surprise to honor Charlie for becoming the new South Side placekicker.

“Cool,” Charlie said, eyeing Phil and his grandmother. “And thanks. This is nice.”

Matt was proud of Charlie Dougan. The kid had fought through a serious leg disease and had worked hard to earn a spot on the team. But he also felt proud of Phil. Here was a guy who wanted to play football badly too. Others would have been choked to see the manager get a spot on the team ahead of them. But not Phil. Matt wasn't exactly surprised to see his buddy act so unselfishly. He had known Phil for a long, long time. But as he looked at the smile on Charlie's face, he didn't know if he'd ever been happier to call Philip David Wong a friend.

chapter twelve

Practice that week was tough. South Side had a big home game against the Churchill Bulldogs on Friday night, and the Stingers couldn't afford a loss if they wanted to stay in the hunt for the league title and a spot in the playoffs. Not after that devastating last-minute loss to the Central Wildcats the week before.

Nate Brown was limping badly through much of the week, favoring the right ankle he had twisted late in the game against the Wildcats. That meant Matt got most of the practice reps at wide receiver. He estimated that he'd run a hundred routes with first-string quarterback Kyle James during the last few days. The timing between the two of them had improved as a result. Matt was feeling more and more confident as the week progressed.

As Ricky Jackson was still on suspension, Keith Vickers, normally the third-string quarterback, had been elevated to the backup role behind James. Jackson stood solemnly on the sidelines for most of practice that week, getting in only a handful of reps behind James and Vickers.

Matt felt sorry for Jackson. He knew the kid was under a lot of pressure from his father and that his older brother, Grant, had a hair-trigger temper. He wondered what it must be like living in their house with Jackson's dad on the warpath. Ricky hadn't smiled too much this week, Matt noticed. No matter how talented the kid was, Matt didn't think he'd ever want to trade places with him.

On Thursday night, Matt's mom had a house to show. So the two of them went out to Classico's for a pizza before she had to leave for work. With football, school and his dad suddenly emerging in his life, Matt hadn't had as much one-on-one time with his mother through August and September. It was nice to get a chance to sneak away for a quiet dinner in a booth at the back of the neighborhood restaurant.

“How's football?” Mom asked as she bit into a slice of pizza.

“Pretty good,” Matt replied. “You remember Charlie Dougan, right?”

“You mean the boy with the brace on his leg?” she said. “Yes, he helped you with your batting last spring. Isn't he a manager with the football team too?”

“Not anymore,” Matt said. “He's our kicker now.” Then he launched into the story of how Charlie had tried out the day before to replace Ricky on field goals.

“That's terrific for Charlie,” his mom said before her voice grew serious. “But, Matt, you be careful with that Jackson boy. Remember all those problems you had with his brother? That's a family you should probably stay away from.”

Matt knew his mom was right. The Jacksons were an athletically talented bunch, but they weren't exactly the most functional family he had ever seen. He never saw them all together. In fact, come to think of it, Matt had never even seen their mother. Still, Ricky was different than either his older brother or his father. Matt liked him, even if he had almost gotten him into a ton of trouble in the game against Central.

“Are you coming to the game tomorrow?” Matt asked hopefully. “We're home to Churchill.”

“Wouldn't miss it,” his mom said. “You know what, I'm even starting to like football now that my son is playing the game.”

Matt's mom dropped him at home before continuing off to her showing. Matt liked being alone in the house. He felt like watching tv, but instead he did the math homework he had put off the night before. Before going to bed, he flipped on the computer in his room. There was a new e-mail waiting for him. It was from Andrea.

Just wanted to say good luck against
Churchill,
she wrote.
See you at the game!

It was late, but Matt knew Andrea would want to hear the news about Charlie. Charlie had helped her with her batting form when she was coming back from a serious leg injury during the previous softball season. The three of them had become close friends as a result.

Matt e-mailed her with the details. A few minutes later, he had another e-mail in his In Box.
That's awesome,
she wrote.
He never even
mentioned he could kick.

Come to think of it, Andrea was right. Charlie had never spoken about his own ability as an athlete. Matt had just assumed he didn't play sports because of the brace on his leg. As he drifted off to sleep he wondered what else Charlie was capable of doing.

Churchill was supposed to be an easy win for South Side, but that was on paper. Factoring in the loss of Nate Brown, whose injured ankle remained too swollen for him to play, and the fact that the Stingers were coming off a tough loss from the week before, Matt had a feeling this game was going to be a toss-up.

His premonition was right. On a clear, crisp autumn night, perfect for football, the Bulldogs and the Stingers turned in a barnburner in front of about five hundred fans. And with just two minutes left in the fourth quarter, the score was even at 10–10.

Matt was ecstatic about getting a chance to play almost every offensive down, and he felt he had performed well under the pressure of replacing Brown in the offense. He had caught five passes for about seventy-five yards, including one thirty-yard catch-and-run that had set up the Stingers' lone touchdown on a subsequent keeper by quarterback Kyle James.

Charlie's debut as the South Side kicker had been mixed. Although he hadn't shown any nerves during try-outs, the buildup to the Churchill game had seemingly caught up to him. Word had spread around school that the manager had won a job as the team's placekicker. Everybody was stopping Charlie in the halls and asking him about it, even the girls. As a result, he had been nervous tonight. He had missed his first field-goal attempt, a twenty-five-yarder in the first half, which was wide left. And he had barely made another of a similar distance early in the second half to put South Side up briefly.