Date: Mon, 14 Sep 2015 13:06:56 -0400 From: Paul Knoke Subject: INSTALLMENT THIRTY-TWO of "THE FATHER CONTRACT" INSTALLMENT THIRTY-TWO from THE FATHER CONTRACT by Arthur J. Arrington Edited Paul K. Scott Please consider a donation to understaffed folks at Nifty so that they can keep PJ's story alive and well. He is one boy we never want to lose track of! Chapter Sixty: Finding a Will to Win On Monday when they arrive for practice, PJ and Erik found the starting assignments for the first game posted on the bulletin board in the locker room. The key offensive and most of the defensive positions were taken by thirteen-year-olds. Most, but not all. PJ's and Erik's names were among some of the other twelve-year-olds listed on the defense, PJ as an end, Erik as a linebacker. "We're first-string," PJ confirmed to his roommate. "Yeah, on defense. We do our job. Let's hope the offense can do theirs." Erik's sarcasm was all too obvious. Later that afternoon, after practicing hard at their positions, the two boys approached Coach Lewis and told him about the information they'd gotten from Travis. The young coach heard them out while regarding them thoughtfully. "So what you're saying is, Franklyn Prep could be much better than last year. And Perry could be tougher than we think." He seemed to reflect on something for a moment before going on. "Okay, I get it. You know, it's a funny thing. One of the other league coaches told me a similar story. I thought it would be Fieldstone we'd have to worry about this year, but maybe not. And Perry was tough last season. . . . Okay, boys. Thanks for telling me." After practice the following day, Coach Lewis warned the team that the upcoming game might be tougher than they were anticipating. "Remember, they beat us last year," he cautioned, "and we have to play on their field. Every team is tougher at home." PJ glanced around and noticed that only a few of the thirteen-year-olds were paying much attention to what their coach was saying. At last, Thursday came, and right after morning classes the team gathered at the bus by the Field House. Brian and Phil were excited. As two of the best eleven-year-olds on the scrubs, they had been picked for the travel team. "Hey, we might not get into the game," Brian proudly declared, "but at least we made it onto the bus!" "That's the spirit," Erik said, to which he added some other words of encouragement: "You never know when your chance to play is gonna come. You gotta be ready!" "He's right," PJ told the two boys. "So sit with us. The Top Floor Gang stays together." It was a long bus ride to the Perry School, one PJ and Erik remembered from the time they'd gone there to play baseball. "The worst thing is the box lunch they give us," Erik said. "Watch out for that." "I was nervous about the game. So I tried to forget about baseball by reading last time," PJ recalled with a grimace. "That was a mistake. Never read on a bus. It can make you wanna chuck your cookies." "Readin' in buses and cars always gets me kinda sick," Phil quietly added. "But sometimes, so does jus' ridin' in 'em." He already looked uncomfortable. PJ put an arm around him. "Me, too. Especially on long trips like this. Tell you what. We'll play a game. We'll see who can spot the most different license plates." "Oh, yeah! Good idea, PJ," Erik said. "Now you guys are gonna see something!" He grinned at Brian and Phil. "PJ thought he was good at this until he met me. I got an Alaska plate last spring when PJ and Billy and I were all playing. PJ's still tryin' to figure out how I spotted it first!" That got a chuckle from Brian, and even Phil managed a smile. They all started eagerly looking out their windows. When the box lunches were handed out, PJ helped Phil choose a few simple items that would not upset his stomach. "We'll save all the rest for later," he told him. "You can finish up after we get there and we're changing in the locker room. You'll have time. You'll see." The bus rolled steadily along the highway while the boys collected license plates and played other games that Erik knew, activities that kept Phil so occupied that he forgot all about his stomach. Before they knew it, they were turning into the gates at Perry, where Brian and Phil pressed their faces to the glass, staring out at the stone buildings and well-groomed lawns. "Man, this is nice," Phil said. "It looks like Gordonsville." "Yeah, they have a nice school," PJ agreed. "Their fields and everything are real good too. But they don't have a big field house like we do. Here, eat your sandwich, Phil. It'll be safe to do that now." Phil took a cautious bite, chewed, swallowed, and looked up gratefully. "Thanks. I think I'm okay." In the same locker room PJ remembered from baseball, they changed into their football equipment. PJ took his time getting ready so Phil would have a chance to finish eating. "You guys go ahead," he told Erik and Brian. "I'll make sure Phil's okay." He finished dressing, and helped the younger boy into his pads and uniform. Phil asked, "I was wondering, does Erik get sick on busses like we do? "Yup. But he doesn't like to admit it. That's why he invented all those games." Phil smiled at this shared confidence, and PJ gave his young friend's shoulder pads a slap. "Let's go get warmed up!" The Perry field had a big electronic scoreboard at one end and high aluminum bleachers on both sides, with seats full of spectators behind the home-team bench. But only a few people were sitting behind Gordonsville's, so when one of them, a tall burly man, stood and waved, PJ's heart leaped with excitement. "Jack," he whispered hopefully. Then he recognized Bill. Erik came running over, beaming with joy. "Bill's here! He made a special trip all the way up just to see our opening game!" PJ waved and Erik pointed Bill out to Brian and Phil so they could wave too. Bill waved back, cupped his hands around his mouth, and called something that PJ couldn't make out. "Gee, I hope we do well today!" Erik exclaimed. They got into line with the rest of the team for their warm-up drills. It was a bright, sunny day with just a few wispy clouds. The temperature was equally warm. PJ had managed to work up a good sweat by the time warm-ups ended. "It's a little too hot for football," he heard one of the older boys say. Bullshit! thought PJ. The hotter the better. Maybe it'll slow down the other team's offense and get them tired! It had been hot every day when he played football at his summer camp in Florida, and it hadn't bothered him a bit. He liked hot weather. Gordonsville won the coin toss and elected to defer receiving until the start of the second half. PJ and Erik lined up on the field with the other members of the kick-off team, PJ experiencing butterflies in the stomach just like the ones he'd had before a big swimming race. Here we go! He was thinking. Opening minutes . . . Middle School football season . . . Kip, Gordonsville's long kicker, held his arm up to indicate he was ready. He whipped it down, ran forward. As his foot met the ball, PJ raced down the field, determined to track down whichever Perry player caught the ball. Kip's booming kick was a nice one. PJ saw it angling toward the side away from him, but he continued straight ahead in his lane the way he'd been taught, hoping he'd still get his chance to make a tackle. And he couldn't have asked more for what happened next! The slender Perry back who caught the ball faked a step forward, then cut across the field to his left, outflanking the over-eager Gordonsville players converging on the play too early. That meant that he was now running right towards PJ! No way, sucker! Side-stepping the clumsy attempt of a Perry opponent to block him, PJ bore down on the unsuspecting ball carrier like a miniature homing missile. Wham! Umph-h! Driving with his legs, wrapping up the Perry runner as he slammed him to the ground, PJ made a textbook, open-field tackle. He'd hoped to create a fumble, but had to be content with a "dead" ball and a ball carrier writhing on the ground with the wind knocked out of him. "Beautiful, PJ!" Erik yelled as he slapped him on the shoulder pads. The two of them remained on the field, taking their positions with the rest of the defense. "Three an' out," PJ chanted to himself. "Three an' out. Let's beat these guys!" It seemed they would. The Perry offence, starting from their own thirty-four-yard line, tried a run up the middle that was smothered by the Gordonsville tacklers, Erik included. This was followed by an attempted pass, badly overthrown, and another run, which Gordonsville stopped well short of a first down. "Let's burn 'em on this!" shouted Erik, exchanging palm-slaps with PJ as they lined up with the punt-return team. Thunk! The Perry kicker sent the ball high into the air. That won't go far, PJ told himself as he dropped back to set up a wall for the return. Our offence is gonna have great field position! He picked out a boy in a Perry uniform coming toward him and threw a hefty block that spun the would-be tackler away. From behind came the thud of other bodies colliding, the loud clack of shoulder pads slamming against shoulder pads. He was looking for another man to block when a huge noise erupted from the crowd. Someone on the field screamed "Fumble!" PJ whirled around. When the Gordonsville punt returner had been tackled, the ball had squirted out of his hands! PJ ran toward it--was ready to fall on it as it bounced around--but someone hit him in the back, sending him stumbling off to the side. By the time he regained his balance, a Perry player had scooped up the fumbled ball and was taking off down the field toward the Gordonsville goal. PJ ran after him, hoping against hope, but the boy, too far ahead, crossed the goal line before PJ could catch him. Slowing down, PJ looked back. Was there a flag? The block he'd received in the back had been illegal! But there'd been no whistle. The officials were signaling a touchdown. Erik hurried over, mad as hell. "That was a clip, PJ! You might've recovered that fumble!" PJ shrugged. "I guess the refs missed it." They lined up for Perry's extra-point attempt. PJ put his hands up and tried to get as high as he could, but the kicker managed to get the ball over him and it wobbled through the uprights. Gordonsville was down by seven points, and the game had barely started. The subsequent kickoff went a little better. PJ threw as good a block as he could on an oncoming player, but whistles blew before he could make another. The ball had bounced back into the end zone for a touchback. This gave the Gordonsville offensive unit their first chance to handle the ball. When they trotted onto the field to take over on their own twenty, PJ and Erik went to the sideline for a rest, where they stood watching, holding their helmets. "Let's hope they get some points back," Erik said. But he said it without much conviction. "Let's go, offense!" PJ yelled. Gordonsville ran a slant off tackle that got some yards, and then tried a sweep. But the running back failed to get out past the pursuing defenders and gained only inches. "They have to set up faster than that to make it work," Erik muttered. With five yards to go for the first down, Gordonsville elected to pass. Lester, the starting quarterback, got off a throw to his receiver on the sideline, but the boy had to stop and turn around to make the catch. "He's still throwing behind his man," PJ told Erik. "That's how I intercepted him last Saturday." "It's what he always does," grumbled Erik. "Let's hope the other team doesn't notice." At least Gordonsville had gotten a first down. They tried another run inside, but this time the defensive line stopped them after less than a yard. On second down, Lester again dropped back to pass. A linebacker slipped a block and came in, forcing him to rush his throw. "Oh, no!" PJ gasped. The pass wobbled through the air and dropped neatly into the hands of a defensive back. Tucking the ball under his arm, the Perry player sped up the sideline, and before anyone could get to him, he was over for another touchdown. Erik groaned. "Extra-point defense!" an assistant coach yelled. "Come on, PJ," Erik told him disgustedly. He pulled on his helmet and trotted out with PJ following behind. Once again the kick was just barely good, and Gordonsville trailed 0-14, all due to turnovers. The other team's offense had yet to score a single point. PJ remained on the field with Erik for the kickoff that followed. He laid blocks on two Perry players, getting dumped onto his rear end in the process, but when he regained his feet, he had the satisfaction of seeing that Gordonsville had returned the ball to their own forty-five. "Good field position!" Erik pointed out hopefully as they trotted to the sideline. Yet somehow, despite that position, the offensive unit failed to click. A rushing play went for a loss rather than a gain. Lester completed a short pass for a few yards, but then had the next play, a handoff to his fullback, broken up by a blitzing Perry lineman. PJ heard Erik muttering to himself, "Shit! Shit! SHIT!" as they ran out with the punt team. The Gordonsville punter, a talented soccer-style kicker named Tommy, boomed a high shot to the far end of the field. Racing alongside Erik to get down under it, PJ slammed into the lead blocker while Erik made the tackle on the ball carrier. Oh, Boy. . . PJ mused, his mind blank save flashes of light, his head spinning as he tried to get up. Erik, who had graciously helped to his feet the boy he'd just tackled, ran over to give PJ a hand. "Nice going," he told him. "Thanks, but Oww-w . . ." PJ shook his head to clear it. "Whoever I hit was not small!" Erik peered closely at him. "You okay?" "I guess so. Do I look okay?" "All your parts are still attached," Erik said with a grin. They stayed in the game, PJ still at corner back and Erik remaining a linebacker. After a few plays, PJ was more and more convinced that although Perry might be good, they were definitely stoppable. He concentrated on his coverage, but kept one eye on the flow of the action as he'd been taught and broke up one pass play by nearly intercepting the ball. After that, the opposing quarterback avoided throwing to his side. On a third-and-long situation, when the other team attempted a swing pass beneath the coverage, PJ came up to crush the receiver short of the first-down marker. Counting the earlier tackle he'd made on the kickoff, this was his second official tackle of the season, and both had been on the same player! He'd finally learned how to tackle properly in his summer camp, and he felt rather proud of himself as Erik gave him a hand-up afterwards. "Way to go, PJ!" Erik was laughing. "I bet that kid knows who you are now." The two of them stayed in to block on the punt return, then went off for a rest on the sideline. "Please, no more turnovers," Erik begged as he got a cup of Gatorade. The game settled down into a defensive battle. Gordonsville played conservatively, keeping the ball on the ground and avoiding the pass. They failed to make any first downs, but with his punts, Tommy kept them out of trouble, pinning the other team several times deep in their own territory. The Gordonsville defensive unit played well too, so the other team's offense, although making a few first downs, never got the ball over mid-field. In the second quarter, the Gordonsville offense finally put some good running plays together and got a first down. "Okay, now maybe we can do something," Erik told PJ. "Good job!" yelled PJ to his teammates on the field. But a few plays later, after a busted running attempt that lost yardage, they had to put their helmets back on and go out with the punter again. "That was a missed assignment," Erik grumbled. "It's just like last year." Tommy had so far been doing an excellent job of keeping them out of trouble, but this time disaster struck. The long snap to him almost went over his head. He jumped to get it and was forced to juggle the ball before he could get off his kick. One of the other team's rushers leaped in front and blocked the punt, and another Perry player grabbed the tumbling pigskin. Before any one from Gordonsville could even think of stopping him, he had scurried over the goal line. Perry missed the extra point, but the Gordonsville team was still being shut out 0-20. "It's gonna be just like last year!" Erik snarled, clenching his fist in frustration. He and PJ blocked hard on the kickoff, and the Gordonsville receiver got the ball all the way to the Perry forty before being brought down. It was their best field position of the day, the first time they had been in Perry School territory! "Okay, let's finally see some points," Erik yelled. The Gordonsville offense charged onto the field, seeming momentarily to have found new life! Their first play from scrimmage went right up the middle for six yards. But on the next snap, quarterback Lester fumbled the handoff, nearly causing another disaster. A Gordonsville lineman recovered, but first down was now seven yards away. In desperation, Lester tried another pass. It fell short of the receiver's outstretched hands. Once again, Gordonsville was forced to punt. "Come on, PJ," Erik said in disgust. "I guess we'll have to make all the points on defense." PJ was willing to try. Ever since his near pickoff in the first quarter, Perry had avoided throwing to his side of the field. But PJ had been studying their quarterback, trying to get a feel for his timing. Now, as the Perry offense started a new series of downs after a touchback on Tommy's punt had put them on their own twenty, PJ pretended to be tired. He took a chance and let his man get open as he faked stumbling with fatigue. Erik and the other Gordonsville linebackers stopped the running play at the line of scrimmage. Second and long, thought PJ. Mentally, he crossed his fingers. When his opposite number, the Perry wide receiver, lined up, PJ watched him carefully. The boy looked a little tense. They're going to try it, PJ guessed. He got himself set. As the ball was snapped, he saw out of the corner of his eye the quarterback start to drop back. Refocusing on his man, PJ played off him just enough to make it look good, and then closed fast when he saw the boy's head turn. The ball was coming! PJ cut in front and snatched the pass right out of the kid's hands. A misstep when he swerved to the sideline slowed him or he might have gone in for a touchdown. As it was, he made it to the Perry thirteen-yard line before two opposing players pushed him out of bounds. "Yee-yowww-eee!" he heard faintly through his helmet. Erik was all over him, pounding him on the back. "Way to go, PJ!" he was yelling. They both trotted back to the sidelines where Brian, Phil, and all the rest of the team were also cheering excitedly. Up in the sparsely populated Gordonsville bleachers, Bill was standing and waving. "Nice play, PJ!" Coach Lewis gave PJ a congratulatory slap on his butt. Brian and Phil crowded in closely with Erik right behind them. "That was beautiful, PJ!" Brian shouted. Phil grinned up at him with joy in his eyes. Unfortunately, the offense couldn't convert PJ's interception into a touchdown. Lester was nearly intercepted when he threw to the end zone and both Garry and Dustin, the running backs, were stopped well short of the three where they needed to get for a first down. But Kip, the straight-ahead kicker, managed a field goal. Now the score was 3-20. "Well, at least it's not a shutout," Erik said, his arm around PJ's shoulders as they watched on the sideline. PJ, also trying to stay as positive as possible, answered, "Yup, an' now we'll pin 'em deep on the kickoff." "Geez, PJ, don't jinx it!" Erik glanced around as if afraid that the football gods might've overheard. "Perry'll probably run it all the way back or something." But nothing that bad happened. The Gordonsville kick was a low spinner that the other team's receiver nearly fumbled trying to handle. He frantically fell on the ball before it could bounce away. Erik, PJ, and the other tacklers surrounded him while whistles blew. Perry's offense came out to start on their own twenty-two. The drive that followed was their best of the game. Partly it was luck, the rest good solid effort by their players. The luck factor was a forty-two-yard pass play. Once again, Perry avoided throwing to PJ's side, but Johnny, who like Erik was a twelve-year-old linebacker, had the misfortune to stumble at just the wrong moment. He'd been holding his own against passes thrown over the middle, but this time a receiver got free behind him. The pass was perfect, and only a good move by the Gordonsville safety forced the receiver outside to where PJ could tackle him and prevent the touchdown. Johnny ran over to help PJ up. "Thanks, PJ," he said, looking miserable. "Man, I'm sorry about that. I just blew it." "Hey, don't put yourself down!" PJ knew just what to say. How many times had he heard Jack buck up his teammates! "You're playing a great game. Things happen. This other team's good, too. Just hang in there." "I will." Johnny squeezed his hand. "Thanks, PJ." The play had put Perry on the Gordonsville nineteen. PJ and Erik made more tackles, but they couldn't make them all. The fired-up Perry offense finally ran it in for a touchdown, and that time their kicker got the extra point. The figures on the electronic scoreboard changed to 3-27. Erik was almost beside himself with frustration. "Come on, PJ," he yelled, "let's run one back on this kickoff." He and PJ executed some excellent blocks for their ball carrier and got him all the way to the forty. But once again the offense couldn't get the ball moving. They made one first down at midfield on a good run by the fullback, but then stalled. Yet again, they had to punt. Erik went down on the coverage and made a terrific hit on the boy who caught the ball, dropping him in his tracks on the ten. The clock showed time running out in the second quarter. "Okay, that's it!" Erik exclaimed. "They get no more points in this half!" On the first play Erik blitzed into the Perry backfield, nailing the runner just as he took the handoff for a loss of four yards! The clock continued to run. "Prevent," yelled the defensive captain. PJ played off his man as the next play started. The Perry quarterback was scrambling desperately in his backfield as Erik again went after him. PJ saw him turn his head. Here it comes, he thought. He closed on his man, screaming to himself, Steal the ball! Steal it! But he was playing a little too far back to intercept it. He hit the receiver a tenth of a second after the catch. The ball flew loose. Boy and football bounced out of bounds. The official ruled it an incomplete pass. With only seconds left, the opposing quarterback took a knee to let the clock run out. The teams went to the locker rooms with the score still 3-27. During the halftime break, Coach Lewis gave a pep talk. "Some of you came up here thinking this team was going to be easy," he lectured. "Well, they're not. They surprised you and got a big lead. Forget that! These guys don't have anything you don't have. Our defense is playing well. It's up to you fellows on the offense to step it up! Let's cut out the sloppy mistakes. This game isn't over yet! You'd be amazed how fast it can turn around. A few turnovers, some good offensive plays--you'll be right back in it! So let's get going! Show these guys what you've got!" The team gave him a cheer, but PJ went back out onto the field with a mixture of hope and doubt. He wasn't at all sure that Gordonsville's first-string offense would do any better. Because Gordonsville had won the opening coin toss and deferred, they received the kickoff to begin the second half. But things started off badly. Their return back only managed to get the ball out to the twenty-five before being brought down. "Some of these guys just aren't blocking!" Erik raged. He was looking grim, getting angrier and angrier. As far as PJ could see, Coach Lewis' talk didn't seem to be making any difference. The offensive unit went out and sputtered just as badly as had in the first half. Perry squashed two running plays that gained only one-yard apiece, and a blitzing linebacker batted down a Lester pass which nearly resulted in an interception. It was another three-and-out. The Perry punt receiver made a good catch, and this time angled quickly away from the side where Erik and PJ were racing toward him. He sprinted to the opposite sideline, broke a tackle, picked up a block, and broke free, going all the way for the touchdown. On the extra point attempt, Erik blocked the ball, but the score now rose to 3-33. After another kickoff and runback, the Gordonsville offense started on their own twenty-three. Their attack went nowhere. Instead of gaining, they went backward. "They just can't seem to get going!" PJ exclaimed, trying to put some sort of positive spin on it. "They're not trying," Erik snarled again. "I'm pissed!" Gordonsville was forced to punt yet again. PJ made a good tackle on the receiver, bringing him down on the Perry thirty-six. Then he lined up in his defensive-back position. Perry switched to a more conservative play-calling, sticking to the ground, just trying not to turn the ball over and using as much time as they could. PJ moved up, anticipating runs and short passes. His break came on a third-and-four situation. Anxious to get the first down so as to retain possession, the Perry signal-caller faded back for a short toss over the middle. PJ was lurking right where he could cover the receiver and stop him cold if he caught the ball. He wasn't playing for an interception. But the ball was thrown badly, way off-line. PJ barely had to move before the pass was in his hands. Unfortunately, when he tried to dart through a hole, he was overwhelmed by tacklers. Only by concentrating on holding his prize did he manage to hang on until the officials got the pile of players off him. But he was grinning from ear to ear when he ran to the sidelines where Brian, Phil, and Erik were waiting to pound his shoulders. Coach Lewis came over to congratulate him too. "Now, maybe we'll get something," PJ told Erik. "Our offense better," Erik was looking more upset than ever. "This is starting to get embarrassing." It quickly became more embarrassing. PJ and Erik watched in dismay as Lester turned to the wrong side trying to hand off to his fullback. Before he could recover, he was hit by a defensive lineman. The football squirted out of his hands. It was picked up by another defensive player, who then galloped sixty yards for still another touchdown. The Perry kicker split the uprights on his attempt. Just like that, Gordonsville was being buried 3-40. Before the teams lined up for the kickoff, Coach Lewis substituted for PJ and Erik on the receiving unit and called them over to the sideline. "Erik, you're going in as quarterback after this kick. PJ, I want you at wide receiver. I'm putting in other second-stringers as well. Now look, boys, I want you to do the best you can out there and get some experience. This game has gone out of reach. But there'll be others, okay? So just see what you can learn, and don't try anything too fancy. I don't want you hurt. The other coach is putting in substitutes too." Erik stared up at him with a lazer-like glare. "Coach, if you put us in there, we're going to try to win this game! We won't be playing to get your experience, or fucking around like those older kids!" Taken aback by this stinging rebuke, the young man hesitated a moment, and then said, "OK. I get your point. You boys go in there and show me what you can do!" He turned away to watch the kickoff. Behind them, on the bench, they heard Kip mutter his big fullback, "He should've put them in a long time ago, Jacob. Then maybe we wouldn't be in such a goddamned mess!" The coach couldn't have missed overhearing that. Erik put a hand on PJ's shoulder. "Listen to me," he whispered fiercely, leaning close so that only PJ could hear. "This is what we've been practicing for. The first play I call--the very first one--will be a pass to you. I swear--I swear to you! I'll put that pass right into your hands! Go with it! Go all the way! Let's show these guys!" Those words, delivered with such blazing intensity, sent a thrill shivering down PJ's spine like nothing he'd ever quite experienced before. Not even like the feeling he got when driving to the finish, about to break a record in a big swimming meet. Nor even the thrill he felt watching Jack come up to bat with men on base in a close game. It was more electrifying, like something incredible was going to happen! He was tingling all over! "Just get it to me, Erik," he whispered back. "I'll do the rest!" Had his roommate heard? PJ was unsure because Erik had already turned away to stare out at the field. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he was muttering, "They're not gonna beat us . . . they're not! I won't let them!" To PJ, it was as if he felt the ground shifting beneath his feet. This game was about to change! Chapter Sixty-One: Victory in Defeat From the Gordonsville sideline, PJ and Erik watched as Garry, a running back, took position on the fifteen-yard line and prepared to receive Perry's kickoff. PJ could hear his roommate growling under his breath, "Run it back! Run over 'em! Smash 'em!" PJ was fairly sure that Garry was one of the players still trying to win, and from what happened next, it was obvious the thirteen-year-old was thinking the same thing as Erik. Perry's kicker boomed one so high and deep that Garry had to back up five yards to catch it. Perry tacklers were already slipping past Gordonsville blockers by the time he started forward. But he dodged, scrambled, broke a tackle, scrambled some more, and managed a nifty return to the thirty-one-yard line before three Perry boys finally brought him down! PJ wanted to let out a cheer. Erik didn't give him a chance to celebrate, though. He smacked PJ on his shoulder pads, yelled into his ear, "Now it's our time! Let's go!," and raced out onto the field. PJ followed right behind him, pulling on his helmet as he went, the two of them heading for the Gordonsville offensive unit gathering behind the new line of scrimmage. Sadly, their arrival in the huddle was hardly greeted with enthusiasm. "Aw, shit! Here come the subs," a big thirteen-year-old lineman whined. "It's only the third quarter, and the coach is already giving up. This game's over." Except for a glare in the boy's direction, Erik ignored the remarks and took charge. He called for a pass play with PJ's number. The opposition was instantaneous. One of Lester's buddies, the leftside wide receiver, complained, "The coach doesn't want us running any pass plays deep in our territory." Erik gave him an icy stare. "You don't wanna be in on this play? Fine. Beat it! I'll call time out an' we'll bring in your replacement." There was dead silence. The boy dropped his eyes. That lineman, however, couldn't resist taking one more sarcastic jab. "It's your funeral, Junior." "Shut up, Nolan," another player shot back. "He can't do any worse than Lester did!" Erik repeated the play call, broke the huddle, and PJ went out to his wide receiver position on the right. The opposing back looked young and inexperienced. Perry must have already put in their second string, he thought. Good! Let's see if I can't educate this kid a little. Erik confidently stepped up to the line. He glanced around, making sure everyone was lined up properly and to check the defense. He crouched over the center. "Hu-uu-ut, Hut," he cried. The center snapped the ball. Erik took it and faded back. His pass blockers formed a pocket around him. PJ was sprinting for the sideline, taking his defender with him, when farther ahead, he saw the safety move over to lend support. Sucker! Suddenly, too fast for the defense to react, he faked, cut to his left, and turned on the speed, breaking past the safety into the middle of the field. When he turned his head to look, he Erik's pass was already in the air, a beautiful spiral. He put his arms out, and the ball floated into his hands! Without breaking stride, he tucked the ball into his chest and streaked up the field. Another defender was trying for an angle on him, but PJ didn't try to evade him. He straight-armed the boy and shot by. Nothing could stop him now. Nothing! With a feeling of tremendous exultation, he ran over the goal line holding the ball up in a victory gesture! The cheers of his team reached him faintly through his helmet. He couldn't believe how good he felt! It was like hitting a home run, or doing his best time as he finished first in the butterfly. He felt as if he could run forever. He knelt, one knee on the ground, and touched both chains on his neck. "That was for you, Erik," he whispered. "And the next one will be for Jack. The two best friends I have in the world!" He got up and saw his roommate running toward him. Erik pounded PJ's shoulder pads and then gave him a tremendous hug. "We did it! We did it!" he was yelling. "I knew we would!" PJ looked back at him with shining eyes. "That was for you, Erik. We're on our way now. On our way at last. Nothing can stop us!" "There'll be a lot more, PJ," Erik promised. The officials were chasing them off the field so Tommy could get on to attempt the extra point. It was good! The score was now Gordonsville 10, Perry 40. Coach Lewis had said nothing about substituting on special teams or defense, so when the kick-off unit took the field, Erik and PJ went back into the game at their original positions. "If Coach wants us out, he'll tell us," Erik said. "I don't wanna come out anyway!" PJ felt as if he were walking on air. When Kip booted the kick-off, PJ flew down the field with wings on his feet! He slipped past a blocker and tackled the ball carrier just as the boy was starting to run. Other bodies landed on him, but he didn't care. He was still tingling with excitement as Erik helped him get out from under the tangled pile. "Now, let's stop 'em 'an get the ball back," Erik shouted. Perry's offense, weakened by substitutions, could make no headway against a fired-up defense led by Eric and the other linebackers, one of whom was a twelve-year-old named Johnny, who was just as thrilled to be in the game as Erik and PJ were. Perry was forced to punt. The kick was a wobbly effort. Erik took charge of the Gordonsville offensive squad on their own forty-one. PJ found himself guarded by a different player this time, a boy older than the previous one. They've put their starters back in, he thought. He pretended to be unable to shake loose from him on the first play, so Erik instead handed off to Jacob, the fullback, for a five-yard gain off-tackle. Then in the huddle he gave Erik a nod. Once more, his roommate called for a pass with PJ's number. On the snap of the ball, PJ went for the sideline and faked toward the middle as if he were going to try the same pattern he'd gotten the touchdown with. When the defending back went for the fake, PJ got past him down the sideline. Erik put the ball right into his hands, and PJ picked up a bunch of yardage before being driven out of bounds by the Perry safety at the twelve-yard line. "Way to go!" Erik told him as he quickly brought the team into a huddle. "Now, let's take it in!" Sandy, their second-string running back, plunged for four yards, and then Erik called, "Texas, Gold!" for the rollout pass to the right. Since Lester, the starting Gordonsville quarterback, had done all his passing from the pocket, the sudden appearance of a rollout took the defense completely by surprise. PJ got open in the end zone, but Erik didn't need to throw the ball. His rollout took him beyond any defensive pursuit, so he simply ran the ball over the goal line himself. Grinning hugely as PJ hugged him and pounded his back, he shouted, "Let's see how they like that!" Once more, Tommy's extra point kick was good, and the score climbed to 17-40. "No runback!" Erik yelled to the kickoff team as they lined up. Kip gave them a low, end-over-ender that the other team had trouble handling. By the time the opposing back got a handle on the ball, Gordonsville players were swarming all over him, with Johnny getting credit for the tackle. "Gotta' stop 'em now," PJ said in the defensive huddle. "Let's get that ball back!" Erik growled. But sure enough, Perry had put its first-string players back in the game, their strategy being to milk the clock and keep the ball on the ground for just enough yardage to get first downs. The third quarter ended with them still in offensive possession on their own forty-three. "We've stopped 'em before. We know we can do it! Let's not quit now!" Erik told the defense. They went into the final fifteen minutes of the game determined to hold. PJ played up close in his corner position, confident that the other team wouldn't be trying any long passes. Just as he expected, the opposing quarterback handed off to his backs twice, sending them into the line repeatedly, gaining little, but still using up clock. PJ grew wary. In the last third and long situation, Perry had tried a pass over the middle. Perhaps they would again. He prepared to react. But the other team didn't try a pass. Instead, they attempted a sweep around PJ's end. Luckily he'd correctly read the play and moved to the line. Erik and the thirteen-year-old linebacker, Nate, were coming over in pursuit. The ball carrier cut to evade Erik's tackle and ran right into PJ, who rode him out of bounds. Perry had to kick. "Block the sucker!" Erik urged the defense, clapping his hands. They almost did. The kicker had to rush and got off a wobbly effort that only went about twenty yards before bouncing out of bounds. The Gordonsville offense took over on their own thirty-nine. Once more Erik led a charged-up Gordonsville offense down the field. PJ caught two passes for first downs and might've had another for a touchdown if the defender hadn't batted it away. "My bad," he admitted disgustedly when he came back to face Erik in the huddle. "I couldn't shake him that time." Erik brushed this off. "Forget it. I saw he was on you. It was my bad for throwing it. Don't worry, Roomie. You'll get him this time. Give him a button hook and come back to me." He called PJ's number again, and once more faded back after the snap. This time, PJ streaked down the sidelines, stopped abruptly, and doubled back. The defender, caught by surprise, nearly stumbled over his own feet trying to stop himself. PJ was wide open for Erik's pass, which came straight to him just as they'd practiced it so often in Billy's backyard. PJ secured it and cut across the field for a nice gain before being tackled. Erik high-fived him on the way back to the huddle. Their running game was beginning to roll now that the defense was being stretched. Erik scrambled for another first down and then Sandy, in at running back again to give Garry a breather, finally broke a big one! He took the handoff, slanted through the line behind a block by Jacob, broke a tackle, and sprinted into the clear. Before the defensive backs could close, he went twenty yards for a touchdown! PJ celebrated with him, slapping his shoulder pads. This time, Tommy misfired and didn't get the extra point, but the score continued to improve. Now it was 23-40! "Let's stop 'em again!" Erik yelled to PJ as they lined up for the kickoff. When Kip boomed one of his own long and high in the air, this time it was PJ who took out a blocker, enabling Erik to tackle the ball carrier and stop him before he could get any momentum. Perry was forced to start offensive play back on their own fourteen. So far, so good, but they were also succeeding in keeping the ball on the ground as the clock kept running and the precious minutes of the final quarter slipped away. Moreover, the Gordonsville defense was beginning to tire. Despite Erik's, Nate's, and Johnny's fierce play at linebacker, the opposing team got just enough yardage for first one and then another set of fresh downs. At his defensive position, PJ continued to play up close, gambling that Perry was reluctant to pass. But though he made several tackles, Perry still ground out positive yardage. He went to the defensive huddle and said, "They're in a pattern. We've gotta shake 'em up somehow. Make somethin' happen. Let's just send everybody in on 'em. What can we lose?" "Right," agreed Erik. "Everybody, go at 'em and blitz!" As it turned out, on that very play, Perry had planned a pass for the first time in the last two drives. But their poor quarterback never had a chance. The entire Gordonsville defense poured through onto him. Erik nailed the kid as he was desperately trying to unload the ball and the pigskin was jolted out of his hand. PJ saw it bounce on the ground in front of him, dove on it, scooped it in as he rolled in the dirt, and sprang to his feet. Without thinking, he started to run. A big Perry back got an arm around him, but PJ's wiry form contained a mass of strength. He broke the boy's grip with a twisting spin and accelerated away toward the goal line. He ran into the end zone with the ball held high in another victory salute! "This one's for you, Jack!" he yelled out as he heard the cheering coming from the sidelines. Erik and his other teammates mobbed him as they escorted him off the field. Coach Lewis was slapping him on the back and saying something PJ couldn't make out in all the commotion. All he could think of was how wonderful it would be if Jack had decided to surprise him by coming to the game. He would've see me make that touchdown! Pulling off his helmet, PJ searched the stands. I bet he's here! I bet he came to surprise me! In that moment, he was convinced he'd see Jack's tall, rangy form standing, cheering as he grinned proudly at him, just as PJ had seen him do so often that year. "That's my Little Champ," PJ could hear him saying. He's probably standing next to Bill. I bet the two of them planned coming up here together. Instead, his eyes found Bill. The man was cheering and waving, but no one was standing next to him. PJ looked at the other people in the sparse Gordonsville crowd, but the face he longed to see so desperately wasn't there. He turned away, his eyes filling with tears. Brian and Phil were with him now, rubbing his shoulders and leading him to a bench to rest. Erik hugged him again. Johnny congratulated him, and even Nolan, the lineman who'd made the snide remark, came over to shake his hand. PJ closed his eyes so his teammates wouldn't see that he was crying. He brushed at his face and tried to smile. "PJ, you're doing great!" Brian shouted. He and Phil were looking at him, their eyes shining with admiration. "They got the extra point, PJ," Erik yelled excitedly. "We're only ten points down! Let's do it to 'em again. Come on!" They put their helmets back on and ran out to join the kick-off unit. Once more, PJ found himself flying down the field under Kip's kick. He felt disconnected from everything, almost as if he were playing alone on the field in a dream. He saw a boy in a Perry uniform catch the descending kick and be cut down by Gordonsville tacklers. "Hold 'em. We need the ball!" he heard Erik yell. PJ focused on his defensive role. He was in his own world of effort now, concentrating totally. He lost all awareness of the clock, the score, the crowd. He knew that other players were talking to him, but the words were just noise. All he could think of was, get the ball . . . force a turnover . . . make them kick. The opposing team was desperate now. The game was slipping away from them! They tried more running plays, but the Gordonsville defense was so fired up that the ball carrier was hammered back for a loss. In frustration, the Perry quarterback tried to pass, away from PJ's side, but Johnny broke up the play. "Not this time," he told PJ excitedly as they huddled. However, PJ barely heard him because he was concentrating so intently. Over the middle, he he was thinking. Over the middle. They'll try it again. He watched the receiver on his side, and when the boy cut, he was ready. He went up into the air in front of him. Only the fact that the ball was thrown badly kept him from intercepting it. Again, Perry was forced to kick, and Gordonsville started a new drive on their own forty-four. With the game getting out of hand, the other team's fans screamed from the sidelines for their defense to step up and contest every yard. They knew the clock was running and that they could win if they could only hold on. PJ was continually double-teamed. He twisted and cut to get free, but Erik dared only throw him short passes. Even so, the double coverage on PJ freed up the other receivers, and Erik used them to full advantage. Mixing passing and running plays, he kept Gordonsville moving down the field. Still, each play took time, and the clock was their enemy, ticking off those precious seconds one-by-one. Jacob plunged for nine yards on a first down and it was second-and-one at the Perry eighteen. Erik's eyes met PJ's in the huddle and sent the unspoken message that We gotta score! PJ nodded. Erik called PJ's number for the rollout pass. When the ball was snapped, PJ raced toward the goal, pulling the double coverage with him. He saw the backs hesitate slightly as Erik rolled out, fearful of Erik's scrambling ability. Taking advantage of their momentary uncertainty, he cut away, gaining critical steps on them. As he ran into the end zone, he saw the ball on its way! Like all Erik's passes, it seemed to float into his hands. He pulled it into his chest to ensure possession and then held it up in victory! For Brian and Phil and Billy! When he reached the sideline, he gave the ball to an official and got down on one knee, touching the chains on his neck. As he got up, Erik was there, pulling him to his feet, celebrating with him. After they high-fived and walked off the field, Brian and Phil escorted them back to the rest of the team, where Coach Lewis was waiting, clipboard in hand. He grinned, shook his head, and shouted over the noise, "I just don't believe you guys!" "I told you we'd try to win for you," Erik yelled back. Out on the field, Tommy nailed the extra point, and Erik pointed at the scoreboard: "37-40, Coach. All we need is a touchdown to win or a field goal to tie. We can do it!" The coach slapped him on one shoulder pad, looked at the time left and nodded vigorously. "Keep doing what you're doing, boys!" he yelled and sent them back into the game. The problem is time, PJ thought, as he lined up for the kickoff. We could win this game if we just had a little more of it. We need the ball! With just over two minutes left on the clock, Coach Lewis called for an onside kick, but the Perry School players were smart. They made no attempt to return or even touch the ball as Kip sent it skittering and tumbling through their line. The ball came to rest on the Perry twenty-five where it was downed by one of PJ's teammates. A two-minute warning went to the benches. The Perry offense took the field, their mission to try as hard as they could to run out the clock. Gordonsville countered by calling a timeout after every play. PJ prayed that Perry would try a pass. He was oblivious to everything but the overwhelming need to get possession of the ball. Suddenly, Erik was pulling on his arm and yelling into his helmet, "PJ! PJ, they have to kick. Go back and receive it!" Yes! PJ ran back and got set. When he saw the ball go up into the air, he positioned himself under it, focusing only on the catch. The football dropped into his arms like a lead weight! He held on to it, though, dodged the first would-be tackler, and cut across the field behind the wedge that set up in front of him. But a wall of Perry uniforms was overwhelming his blockers. PJ angled desperately for the sidelines, breaking one tackler's hold and straight-arming another as he raced up the field, tight-roping the white line. Finally, another pair of Perry tacklers pushed him out of bounds just beyond midfield. He took a quick look at the clock. Less than twenty seconds left. Gordonsville had no timeouts remaining. They would have to move fast! In the huddle, Erik called for a sweep, yet on execution the blocking broke down. Jacob, the fullback, was tackled before he could get moving. The linemen were tired now and the Perry defense was using everything it had left to stop them. Tick-tick-tick--more precious time evaporated before Erik could line them up without a huddle and spike the ball. Less than ten seconds left. Erik looked at PJ across the huddle. "Sideline, PJ," he said, "just get us as close as you can. Step out of bounds right away if you can't make it to the goal." Lining up, PJ saw that he'd be double-teamed again. But the defense was playing well back, looking to prevent the big play. There would be room enough for him to get down the sideline and take a pass from Erik just inside the twenty before he was hit and pushed out-of-bounds. It worked! First down . . . three seconds left! PJ ran anxiously back to the huddle. One more pass play! Just one more! He knew he could beat the coverage. If Erik could scramble long enough, he knew he could get open! He was dismayed, then, to see Kip run out from the sidelines. "Coach wants to try for a field goal," Erik told the team. "We gotta make this work!" "Erik!" PJ pleaded. "Fake it. Give me a pass! I know I can get open. Take a shot over the middle. I can beat those guys!" Erik looked at his roommate and gave him a resigned little smile. "Coach sent the play in. I have to go with it." PJ forced himself to nod. "Okay, I know." They lined up for the kick with Erik as the holder. Kip stepped back and got ready. Erik held out his hands for the ball. On the snap, PJ prepared to block. He heard the kick but didn't see it because he was too busy fighting off defenders trying to surge past him. He was pushed onto the ground. The first thing he saw when bodies unpiled were the players from the other team celebrating. "What happened?" he cried, as Erik helped him to his feet. "Missed to the right," his roommate replied. His face was expressionless. "It was long enough," he added, "but it just hooked a little off-line." PJ took off his helmet and glanced around. The Perry bench had emptied, and all their players were on the field, jumping about and slapping each other's helmets or shoulder pads. Their supporters in the stands were cheering wildly. Right behind him, Kip was down on one knee with his head bowed and his hand brushing his eyes. PJ knelt down next to him and put an arm across the boy's shoulder pads. "I'm sorry, PJ," Kip said. PJ could see he was trying hard not to cry. "It's not your fault," PJ told him. "It's mine. You made a great kick. I should've got you closer. You did the very best you could." "It wasn't either one of you," Erik told the kicker as he knelt in front of him. "It was my fault. I should've never called that running play that wasted all that time. It was a stupid call. We might've gotten the touchdown if I hadn't done that. I know I could've gotten you closer. Next time I will. That's a promise." Kip shook his head miserably. "Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it. But it was my kick to make and I didn't get it. I'm no good." "That's not true!" Erik put his hand on the boy's shoulder and shook him. "Don't you say that! You did a great job all through this game. It was your foot that got points for us an' kept us out of trouble on all the kick-offs. The heck with this field goal! You'll get the next one or the one after!" He looked intently into Kip's eyes. "You're a good kicker. We need you." "You mustn't get discouraged," PJ told him gently. "We have seven more games. They're not all going to be like this. And we need you for every one of them. I think you did a great job today. Next time we'll all do better. Come on. . . ." "Hold on, boys!" Coach Lewis had walked up behind them from the sideline and apparently overheard part of their conversation. Reaching out he helped Kip to his feet. Both PJ and Erik stood as well. "The loss today was my fault," the young man told them. "Nobody else's! Guess I've got a few things to learn about being a head coach." He shook his head sadly and looked at Erik. "I should have paid more attention to your warning about this team being good. I didn't have our first-string offense properly prepared." His eyes flicked from Erik to PJ, then back to Erik. "But you guys were ready, weren't you! I won't wait so long next time to put you fellows in if we get behind. You two were terrific today, and so were Johnny and Sandy and a couple of others! I won't forget that." Then he turned to Kip. "PJ's right. There's seven more games. We need you. Don't you get down on yourself. After the coach left them, PJ noticed Erik staring at the other side of the field where the Perry players were mingling with their excited fans. "I hate losing, PJ," he muttered. "Yeah." There didn't seem much else for PJ to say. Together they went to join a waiting Brian and Phil. Brian looked at them in dismay. "We shoulda' won that game, shouldn't we." Erik took another glance at the other team across the field and replied in disgust, "They never shoulda' beaten us." On the way over to the Gatorade barrel for drinks, PJ spotted Coach Lewis talking to Kip, Nolan, and Jacob, their big fullback. He overheard his coach say, "He's twelve. He'll get hurt." Kip made some sort of inaudible reply, and then Nolan spat out, "All I know is, we better not wait until we're so mother-fucking far behind to put him in the next time or we ain't never gonna win nothin'!" PJ wondered if they were talking about Erik. Had Erik heard it too? He tried to catch more, but the group moved farther away, out of earshot. Coach should listen to them. PJ was thinking that when a big hand came down gently on his head. He looked up. "Bill!" The man stood between PJ and Erik, a hand on each of their shoulders. "Boys," he told them, "that was the finest performance I've ever seen. You were incredible." "But we lost, Dad," Erik told him, and the anguished tone in his voice made PJ impulsively grab onto his roommate's hand. Bill leaned down closer. "I know you're disappointed. Coming back that way . . . fighting so hard. Lord, I was so proud of you!" He stared into Erik's eyes. "You had the whole place jumping, Son. You want to know why? They like fighters. They like guys who won't quit. That was you today! And don't you know that you won as much as you lost? Perry only squeaked by you today in what we used to call a 'pyrrhic victory.' It's an old Roman term that means that if you win a battle at a great cost, it's not much better than losing. Or to put it another way, if you lose a battle but gain confidence and self-respect and valuable experience in the process, it kind of makes you a winner too! And that, in my book, is what you were today. Winners!" "Winning, even in losing," PJ whispered. "That's what Jack says." Erik looked up at Bill and managed a wan smile. "Thanks, Dad. I think I understand now. Coach told us he was really happy with the way we played, too." He then glanced at the two youngsters standing next to him. "Hey, this is Brian and Phil, the kids I told you about." "Hi, boys." Bill put his hand out. "It's nice to meet you two. Erik's told me a lot of good things about both of you." "It's nice to meet you, too, Sir." Brian grinned at Bill and shook hands. Phil also did, and smiled, but was too shy to say anything. "I was sort of disappointed that you didn't get a bigger crowd," Bill told them, looking around. "Didn't anyone come up from the School?" PJ shook his head. "It's sort of a long drive. And we weren't very good last year." "Well they missed an exciting game. I'm sure glad I came!" Bill put his arm around Erik's shoulders. I may have to miss your next game, Son. But I'll be there for all the rest. PJ, I was sort of hoping I'd catch Jack here today. We're not that far from Boston, and the Sox are traveling today. I thought maybe he'd try to sneak over." "Gosh, he's pretty busy with the end of the season right now," PJ said, looking down to avoid the man's eyes. "I think it's real hard for him to get away." Bill stroked PJ's head kindly. "Well, why don't you let me sort of stand in for him and tell you I know that if he'd been here today, he would have been mighty proud of you. You were just terrific, kiddo." PJ reached up and took Bill's hand. "Thanks," he said gratefully. Leaning over, Bill hugged him and then gave Erik a big hug as well. "And you, Son. I guess you know . . . " Erik nodded and blushed with embarrassment. PJ could tell he was finally in a good mood. "You boys had better get with your team," Bill told them as he saw Gordonsville players leaving for the locker room. "I'll see if your coach needs any help cleaning up and meet you at your bus." After a final wave, he strode over to greet Coach Lewis. "Boy, your dad is nice," Brian told Erik as they headed for the athletic building. "Thanks," Erik said. "I think Bill is pretty great. Your dad seemed real nice, too, when I met him." "I wish my dad was here today," Phil said. PJ, walking beside him, put an arm around his shoulder. "He'll come to one of these games, Phil. Remember, he promised that he would. And so will yours, Brian. You'll see." "I hope he comes to a game that we win," Brian sourly declared. "Yeah," Erik agreed. He kicked a stone and scowled. "Geez, I still hate losing, PJ!" "Come on Erik, let it go." PJ gave his friend a little punch on the arm. "You heard what Coach said. And Bill. And Jack says that when you lose you just have to get up, go on, and try to do better next time. We will, but now our job is to get Brian and Phil ready for their scrimmage Saturday." His roommate nodded. "Yeah. You're right." When they finished changing and walked out to the bus, Bill was waiting for them. He shook hands again with Brian and Phil, then turned to PJ and put an arm around his shoulders. "You were terrific in that game, PJ. Jack is going to be so pleased when he hears about it. Do you want me to call him and tell him I saw you? I have some phone numbers he gave me." PJ looked up in alarm, anxious to head this off. "No, that's okay. I e-mail him every day. I'll be sending him a message as soon as we get back. You don't have to do anything." Bill gave PJ a warm hug. "I don't mind doing anything for you, PJ, but I won't call him if you don't want me to, though I know he'll be proud of you when he hears how you did. I'm sure he wishes he could have been here. Take care now. And remember, you can always call me if you need anything, son." PJ hid the pain that hearing this word caused him by giving Bill a big hug in return. Erik was so lucky. What if . . . "I'll remember," he said, "and thanks, Bill. Thanks for everything." PJ left Bill and Erik so they could talk privately and followed Brian and Phil onto the bus. When his roommate finally joined them, he seemed happier and more relaxed. "It was a nice surprise to have Bill here," PJ told him. "The best," Erik agreed with a big smile. Coach Lewis had a few words for the team while the rest of the equipment was being loaded. "I know you're all disappointed that we didn't win," he said, standing up in the aisle and looking down the rows of seats. "As I already told some of you, it was all my fault. But not all of you first-stringers were playing up to your potential. That's my fault too. And I let the game get out of hand before I made adjustments. But in that second half we proved that we're a good team, much better than last year. I think maybe you are all going to play better as the season continues. We have seven more games ahead. We'll do better next time. I'm not giving up on the first string offense, so don't give up on yourselves. Just remember--there are some awfully good twelve-year-old players ready to compete for your jobs, so we'd better all work together in practice to fix some of the problems we saw today. Just stick together as a team and help each other and I think you'll still have a good season!" While the coach was talking, PJ furtively looked around. Most of the players were listening and paying attention, but a few of the older boys seemed disinterested. They whispered among themselves. Once PJ thought he heard a stifled laugh. He knew two things for certain. That's why we lost!, and, That's why some of you jerks may get more splinters up your asses riding the bench! The bus ride back to Gordonsville seemed long. "It always seems to take longer when you come back after a loss," Erik said. To pass the time, and to keep Phil's mind off his sensitive stomach, they talked about the game and analyzed the plays, both the ones that had gone right and the ones that had flopped. Then, once it was dark, they played a game that Erik called "Padiddle," where they tried to spot cars with only one headlight or taillight. Phil proved to be quite good at this; his sharp eyes often picked out missing headlights long before the others could. Because they all were tired after the excitement of the day, PJ spent the last part of the trip dozing in his seat, with Phil asleep next to him, his head on PJ's shoulder. That night before he went to bed, PJ composed a long note to Jack, telling him about the game. About his own accomplishments, he said little. About the team, he said a lot. "I scored some touchdowns on a pass play and a fumble recovery," he typed. "I scored one of them for you. But you should have seen Eric. He was terific. He came in as quarterback in the second half when we were down 3 to 40 and almost brought us all the way back. The final score was us 37, them 40. Coach Louis praised us for doing so good. Erik got us 34 points. He was great. Bill was there. He asked about you, but I told him how busy you are. He told us we were winners even though we lost cause we were fighters and never gave up. It was exactly like you always say. He told us about something called a peerick victory which is when you lose but because the score is so close and you try so hard you both really win. Also, remember all the times you told me about how teamwork is so important? Also, how hard you were working to make sure the Red Sox played as a team? That is the problem we have on our team. Erik is trying his best to get the kids on the team to work together and I am helping him. I think about all the things you told me all the time. I miss you Jack. We are all rooting for you to beat the Yankees and win your division. I hope you win the batting title too. I think about you a lot. We do have one kid downstairs who is a Yankee fan but even he thinks you're the greatest. Love, PJ." Jack didn't answer the message. PJ and Erik attended Friday classes, worked out hard with their team, cheered for Brian and Phil at their Saturday scrimmage game, and conducted a secret Top-Floor-Gang practice with Billy. Sunday night when PJ saw that his e-mail box was still empty, he began concocting excuses for his hero. He's busy. He doesn't have time to send anything right now. The Red Sox are locked in a tight race for the lead in their division. Jack has responsibilities to his team same as I do to mine. He decided to sneak to the library and fake a reply from Jack. When he was sure no one was watching, he did just that. Once he'd sent the counterfeit e-mail, PJ ran back to the House, repeating over and over under his breath, He'll come to one of my games, he'll come to one of my games. It was as if the words were a talisman against the dark. While hurrying along, he clutched his neck chains under his shirt and added, An' he'll come to the Father-Son Dinner. 'Cause he promised . . . he promised . . . I know he won't forget. . . . PJ slept poorly that night. Although he didn't have any bad dreams, he was plagued by restlessness and persistent tossing and turning. * * * CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT THIRTY-TWO To Coach Dave Belisle of the Cumberland Rhode Island All Stars: on pages 673-674 of this chapter, I take the liberty of using four sentences lifted from the comments you made to your kids after your loss to Jackie Robinson West in the 2014 Little League World Series. You, like so may other adults who devote their time and effort and priceless mentoring talents to the cause of youth sports, have shown how noble it is to serve your community in this often unsung capacity. But your words, upon that occasion, went above and beyond, were an absolute inspiration to anyone fortunate enough to hear you. I did. So did my editor. And I would trust many listeners all over the world. My book, The Father Contract, is dedicated to you, and to all volunteers like you. Arthur J. Arrington Editor Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmail.com Write me back 'cause we love to hear from you guys! Plus A.J. was puzzled at the lack of feedback on "Peaceful, Easy Feelings" . . . Hey, that was my title. Remember my favorite Eagles song?