Go Long! (3 page)

Tricky footwork was important not only for a running back like Tiki, but also for kickoff and punt returners. And this year, Ronde was the team's number one return specialist as well as its starting cornerback.

Tiki noticed that Coach Spangler was hanging back with his clipboard, taking notes on all the new kids. He did that last year, too, Tiki thought, remembering how curious he'd been to know what the coach was writing about him.

Those tryouts had been the most nerve-wracking days of his life. It seemed funny to him now. How could he possibly have thought that, with all his and Ronde's talent, they might not make it? But while they were going through those anxious moments, it had been total torture.

These poor seventh graders were facing those awful moments now, he knew. Thank goodness he only had to watch, help them out, and give them encouragement.

“Don't worry about it, kid,” he told one boy who tripped while hopping his way through the rope grid.
“Just pick yourself up and keep moving forward. Hang on to your spirit, now.”

The boy nodded, not smiling, and kept going, finishing the course without any further slips. Tiki knew that his kind words must have helped. He remembered how important Matt Clayton's support had been for him and Ronde the year before.

Some of these kids would soon be his teammates. The rest, their hearts broken, would have to make other plans. Tiki thought of his old friend Jason, who hadn't made the team last year but had gone on to star in track.

You just can't let things get you down too much,
Tiki thought. Funny, he sounded just like his mom. She was always saying stuff like that to him and Ronde.

“Play proud,” she would tell them both before every single game—and she never, ever missed one.
She's our biggest fan,
Tiki thought.
Not everybody gets so lucky in the mom department.

He saw Ronde giving some advice to another boy, who was small like the two of them and seemed close to tears. “Hang in there, dude,” Ronde was saying. “Don't give up. Hey, I was smaller than you last year, and I'm on the starting team now.”

The boy nodded and trotted off to the next drill station. Ronde came over to Tiki. “It's looking good,” he said approvingly.

Tiki had to agree. The future of the Eagles seemed
bright. He saw future stars on offensive and defensive lines, at linebacker, and at quarterback, where a tall, thin boy with a super-strong throwing arm was drawing oohs and ahs from kids and coaches alike.

After about an hour and a half, Coach Spangler gathered the new recruits, gave them a speech, and sent them home. Then he led the returning team members into the locker room.

Everyone was sweaty and tired and aching all over from using muscles they hadn't used since last fall. But nobody started changing or went to the showers. Everybody's eyes were glued to Coach Spangler as he addressed the team at the start of their new season.

“Welcome back, boys,” he began, looking them over. “It's good to see all of you, a year older, and hopefully a year wiser.”

That got a laugh, but Tiki noticed that Coach Spangler didn't even smile. That wasn't like him. He was a tough coach, but not beyond cracking a joke or two with his players.

“I think you could all see today what kind of future this team is going to have,” he said. This got a big, whooping round of applause. “I agree,” he went on. “Those seventh graders are going to make a big contribution one day—maybe even this year.

“Now . . .” He paused, looked down, and cleared his throat. “You boys are going to have a great season ahead
of you, if you work hard. I think this team will be even better than last year's model—and there's no reason we can't win another District Championship; maybe even make a run at the State title . . .”

Another round of whoops and hollering. Coach Spangler waited, again looking down at the floor, as if he were weighted down by something heavy and dark.

“Now, you're going to have to work even harder than last year to do it—because unfortunately, I won't be able to be here with you.”

A gasp went up from the group of stunned players. Tiki felt like he'd been suddenly punched in the gut.

“Coach Hendrik over at Cave Spring High is taking a year's leave of absence—he's having back surgery—and the district has asked me to take over for him this season . . . I think you know how much I hate to leave this team . . .”

He stopped, swallowed hard, and looked down at the ground again. The room was so silent, Tiki could hear the ringing in his ears.

“ . . . but I really don't have much of a choice. It's, um, an honor to be asked to coach at the high school level, and . . . on the other hand, it's been an privilege to coach you boys, and lead you to the District Championship . . .”

Another silence. Suddenly, someone said, “You're the man, Coach.”

And then, boys started chanting: “Coach! Coach!
Coach! Coach!” The chant echoed deafeningly in the locker room, and some boys started pounding on lockers, making a drumbeat to go along with the chant.

Coach Spangler swallowed hard. He held up his hands for quiet, and the noise died down quickly. “I know how you boys must feel,” he said. “Part of me feels the same way. But I also know you can overcome this, just like you overcame every obstacle last season.”

Yeah,
Tiki thought,
but that was a different team. Half of us were riding the bench last year, like Ronde and me . . .

“Will you be back next year, Coach?” Paco asked. He, like Tiki and Ronde, would still be at Hidden Valley, so it was a very important question.

“I don't know, son,” Coach Spangler said. “We'll see what happens. In the meantime, your job is to devote yourselves to winning
this
year. I expect you all to give the new coach, whoever it is, your full support—just as you would if it was me.”

“Who's it going to be?” Adam Gunkler asked. He was the Eagles' kicker—an eighth grader like Tiki and Ronde and one of their old friends from Peewee League.

Coach Spangler had spotted Adam as a kicking talent, giving him a starting spot as a seventh grader when most other coaches wouldn't have even let him on the team. Adam had come through with an all-star season.

“Nobody knows yet who the new coach will be,” said
Spangler. “It's not up to me, so I can't help you there—but whoever it is, I'm sure they'll be up to the job.”

“Nobody's gonna be as good as you, Coach,” said starting fullback John Berra, who had played two years under Coach Spangler.

“Well, thanks, Johnnie B.,” said the coach, looking down at the floor again. “I'm gonna miss all of you boys—each and every one of you. But I'll have my eye on you all—so don't even
think
about slacking off. Now get back out there and give me ten laps for a final send-off!”

Everyone just sat there, stunned. A couple of kids started to protest, but Coach Spangler wasn't having any of it. “Let's go! Let's go!” he barked, clapping his hands. “Lemme see some hustle!”

Slowly, gradually, the team members got up and jogged off down the field. Some were shaking their heads in bewilderment. Others kept their heads down in silence. A few muttered to one another about how unfair it was.

But Tiki just sat there on the bench, stunned. He looked over and saw that Ronde was as frozen as a statue.

Tiki knew what his twin was thinking—the same thing
he
was: How were they going to have a winning team without the winningest coach in Hidden Valley history?

“YOUR SHIRT IS ON BACKWARD, TIKI,” RONDE SAID AS
they shuffled out of the locker room after showering and changing.

“So what?” Tiki said in a dull voice. “And anyhow, yours is on inside out.”

Ronde looked down and was surprised to see that it was true. He'd been so distracted and upset by the bad news that he hadn't even been paying attention.

“You should tie your shoelaces too,” Tiki said. “You're gonna trip over them.”

“Man,” Ronde said, shaking his head as he bent down to tie them, “I sure wasn't expecting this.”

“Me neither.”

“You think they'll find somebody good?”

Tiki shrugged. “How do I know? Do I look like a fortune-teller?”

“Man, I feel sick.”

“I'll tell you this much. Whoever they
do
get to be the coach, he won't be half as good.”

“You got that right. Nobody could be as good as Coach Spangler.”

Paco came lumbering up behind them. “Hey, dudes,” he said, breathing hard. “Does this stink, or what?”

“I don't even want to talk about it,” Ronde said.

“Me neither,” Tiki added.

They rode all the way home on the late bus without saying a single word to each other. And when Mrs. Barber asked the twins how the first day of school had gone, neither one had the energy to answer her.

“I
know
you boys heard my question,” she said. “And I
know
you're not being rude. No boy of mine is gonna be rude to his mother and get away with it.”

“It stunk, Mom,” Ronde muttered. “It was the worst day ever, okay?”

Her expression softened in an instant. “Why? What went wrong, Ronde?” She put an arm around each of the boys' shoulders and sat down between them on the stairs.

“Our football coach is leaving,” Tiki explained. “Without him, we'll
never
win the championship.”

“Now, how do you know that?” she challenged. “The season hasn't even started.”

“He's right,” Ronde said. “We're goners without Coach Spangler. He's the best.”

“Was,”
Tiki corrected him.

“You know, your team is sure to lose if all the players
get as down as you two. How do you expect to win without any fighting spirit? Where's your pride?”

Ronde and Tiki were silent, looking down at their feet. They both knew she was right.

But it was easier to
say
“get your fighting spirit up,” than to actually
do
it—especially when you felt like you'd just been run over by a ten-ton truck.

•   •   •

“Listen to this,” Tiki said as he leafed through the morning edition of the
Roanoke Reporter
, the local newspaper. “‘New Cave Spring Football Coach a Proven Winner.'”

The paper was delivered to their house every Wednesday morning. If there was already a story about Coach Spangler in it, the decision must have been made before the school year even started.

Ronde remembered the look on Coach Spangler's face the morning before. He must have already spoken to the paper's reporter by then.

“‘Steve Spangler, longtime football coach of the District Champion Eagles of Hidden Valley Junior High School, has been hired to replace Coach Damian Hendrik of the Cave Spring High School Hawks, effective immediately. Members of the Hawks were all extremely excited about the hiring.

“‘“Coach Spangler's the greatest,” said the Hawks' second-string quarterback Matt Clayton, last year's all-star quarterback for the Eagles. “I should know—I played
for him for three years. He taught me everything I know, and I couldn't be happier that he's coming here.”'”

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.”