Date: Sun, 25 Oct 2015 12:05:19 -0400 From: Paul Knoke Subject: THE FATHER CONTRACT INSTALLMENT THIRTY-FIVE (REVISED) INSTALLMENT THIRTY-FIVE from THE FATHER CONTRACT by Arthur J. Arrington Edited Paul K. Scott Please consider a donation to Nifty to keep this thrilling story of PJ going on and on! Chapter Sixty-Five: True Grit At Monday's practice, the assignments for the Hagerton game were up on the bulletin board. PJ checked and saw that the thirteen-year-olds of the first string were back on offense. His and Erik's were listed for the defense and special teams. "Well, it was fun while it lasted," he told his roommate as they changed. Erik just nodded. When they reached the field, PJ spotted Matthew Aubrey's red hair in the bleachers where he was sitting, already awaiting his arrival, clipboard in hand. Running over to grab his friend by the arm, PJ told him, "Come on. We gotta catch Coach Lewis before he gets busy." The coach had just arrived on the sideline accompanied by two assistants and carrying a clipboard of his own. PJ presented Matt to him with a flourish. "Coach, this is my friend Matthew. He manages the wrestling team for Coach Dutcher. He's smart, he knows all about football stuff too, and he's a whiz at keeping statistics. He wants to help you out." Caught by surprise, Coach Lewis at first looked startled, but after glancing at PJ, who was treating him to the charming smile and polite cute-kid act that was so disarming, he gave Matt an appraising once-over. "You know how to keep football stats?" he finally asked. "Yes- -Sir." Matt took a breath. PJ saw him make a successful effort to meet Coach Lewis' gaze. "I can do that." "Well, I could sure use the help. Tell you what: why don't you stick with me during practice. You can take some notes on your board. Then . . ." PJ left them talking and went to join Erik, who nodded in satisfaction when he heard the report that "Coach is gonna to make that Aubrey kid our manager." "That's a good thing. Brian says Matthew knows what he's doin'." But PJ was frowning. "Lester an' those creep friends of his . . ." "Coach'll take care of that," Erik assured him. "An' I'll keep an eye out. Don't worry, PJ. He'll be okay." They practiced hard that afternoon and the following two days as well, trying to toughen themselves for what Erik kept warning was going to be an extremely physical game. "Hagerton's a power team," he reminded PJ. "They don't try fancy stuff. They just keep pounding away at you." "Bill's gonna be there, isn't he?" Erik smiled. "Yup. No way he'd miss this one. It's gonna be a battle. At least I hope so." This last aside he added with a disdainful gesture toward the other end of the field where Lester and the rest of the offense were working. "I hope we put up a fight!" PJ was only half-listening. Bill's gonna be there, he thought. If only Jack could be. More than anything, PJ wanted Jack to show up at a game. He didn't even care if it was a whole game. It could be just a half, or a quarter--even just for a few minutes. But he knew it wouldn't happen. The Sox were in the playoffs. They'd finished the season at the top of their Division. "The Sox are in the playoffs," he whispered under his breath. He'd been saying that to himself ever since it had happened and loved the thrill of excitement the words gave him. "In the playoffs!" He murmured it again. Jack was busy. Jack had to be with his team. Jack couldn't take time off for a visit when the Sox were playing for an American League Championship. PJ knew that. But still . . . There were occasions when PJ missed Jack so much it was like a terrible aching everywhere inside him. When he was alone and Erik was out of the room, he'd sometimes open the closet door to stare at the Jack Canon poster, imagining that he could feel a hand on his shoulder and hear the voice he loved so much saying, "What's up, PJ? How's my Little Champ?" That's how I want it to happen, he often said to himself. Like Bill does it with Erik. He didn't want to know ahead of time that Jack was coming. He wanted it to be a surprise. He wanted the unexpected hug, the sound of that voice. He wanted to look up and see what he so longed for--Jack smiling down at him. He knew what he would do if that happened, and he wouldn't care who saw it. He would throw his arms around Jack and hug him as hard as he could and everything would be alright. They would be friends again. Best friends. "An' even if he can't be my father," PJ whispered, "I'll be with him. Jack will take care of me. I'll be safe. . . ." While staring at his poster, PJ would slightly move his head to be sure the tape repair he'd made was invisible. It mostly was, so that the tall, confident image of Jack could look down on him with that smile he remembered so well. Anything's possible! "You're gonna win, Jack," PJ vowed. "You're gonna take the Sox all the way!" From down the hall came the sound of footsteps. Someone. Erik? PJ closed the closet door. If Erik came in, he would be seated at his desk, pretending to study. The baseball Division playoffs began on Tuesday. PJ followed them as best he could on both the Internet and TV. He missed the game that was on in the afternoon because of school and football. But he saw parts of one at night. He still had homework to get done, and he was too tired from practice to stay up very late, so he caught only a few innings. The Sox started off badly, losing the first two contests at Fenway to the Seattle Mariners. On Thursday, PJ was talking about that with Erik as they waited to board the bus that was taking the football team to Hagerton. "They're gonna win tonight, Erik, I just know they will." "Maybe so, PJ." But his roommate wasn't exhibiting much conviction. "Just don't get your hopes up. No team except the Yankees have ever lost the first two games at home and gone on to win a Division series." Matt Aubrey, clipboard in hand, smiled at the two of them as he checked their names off when they climbed the steps onto the bus. Brian and Phil followed right behind, having made the travel roster once again because they were the top substitutes. "But the Red Sox are better than the Mariners!" PJ asserted as they were taking their seats. "They beat them in the regular season. They can do it again." In deference to PJ's feelings, Erik tried not to sound overly skeptical. "A awful lot of people are counting them out. It's Jack's slump." "Jack's gonna be okay," PJ insisted. "And the Red Sox are gonna win the next three games. You'll see." "Well, I hope you're right," Erik replied. "I want 'em to win as much as you do." "And we're going to win today," PJ confidently said. When Erik looked at him, PJ met his gaze. "I just feel it." The ride up the interstate to Hagerton was not long enough to cause PJ or Phil any problems. Their bus rolled through the outskirts of a large town and brought them to a sprawling regional school complex. The physical education building where they changed was brand-new. After PJ got his equipment on and went outside, he saw that their game was going to be on a big high-school field with grandstands, light towers, and a fancy electronic scoreboard. Already there was a fairly big crowd gathered on the Hagerton side. "Boy, this is nice!" he told Erik. Brian and Phil, who'd followed them to the field, were looking around in awe. "Man, somebody around here likes football!" Brian exclaimed. "This is even better than our big field." "Yeah, they take it seriously here," Erik told him. "But we take it seriously too." Phil had been trying to get Erik's attention. "Look," he said, "your dad's here." They all turned to look as Erik's face broke into a happy smile. "Bill!" he shouted, waving his arm. Up in the stands on the Gordonsville side, Bill grinned and waved back. All four boys signaled that they'd seen him. "Gee, your dad's about the only person who came," Brian said. PJ looked up and counted a half a dozen people in the huge stands on their side. He wished Billy could've have come too, but he knew Mr. Thatcher could only arrange his work schedule to bring him to home games. The Hagerton team was just as tough as Erik had said it would be. They made a long drive on their first possession and nearly got a touchdown, which would've been PJ's fault if they'd succeeded. The first series of downs had convinced him that Hagerton was not going to pass very often. Their formations were all set up for runs, and it was clear from the style of play that their preferred offense was an up-the-middle attack. The receiver he was supposed to defend was older and bigger than he was, but not nearly as agile or quick. PJ got so focused on playing up to stop the run that he nearly forgot all about him. When an obvious passing situation came on a third-and-long with Hagerton all the way down on the Gordonsville nineteen, PJ nearly got burned. The opposing quarterback, instead of handing off, suddenly faded back. PJ belatedly realized that the receiver he was supposed to be watching was loose in the flat behind him. He just barely managed to deflect a pass that probably would've gone for a touchdown had it been completed. "You cut that kinda close," Erik chided afterwards. "I wasn't expecting them to pass." His roommate nodded. "We're lucky we stopped 'em." After the Hagerton team tried a field goal that missed badly, the Gordonsville offense took over on their own twenty. From the sideline, PJ watched the first string go to work. It had been two weeks since they had embarrassed themselves at the Perry game, and since then, Coach Lewis had spent most of his time with them. They did seem to be executing a little better, the quarterback particularly. But PJ noticed that the play-calling was conservative. Lester stayed on the ground using simple running plays. On this first possession, he made only two first downs before they had to punt. The opening quarter remained scoreless as the teams battled back and forth on the field. The tackling was rough. Hagerton had a number of husky players who luckily were not fast enough to take full advantage of their size, although PJ saw stars a few times when he brought down opposing ball carriers bigger than he was. But despite the fact that the Gordonsville defense was holding its own, disaster struck just before the quarter ended! Lester and company were playing solidly, if not spectacularly, until they tried an end sweep in a second-and-five situation. Garry, the running back got nailed by a hard tackle. He fumbled. The big Hagerton player who recovered the ball rumbled upfield and made it all the way to the Gordonsville ten before he was tackled. This time PJ, Erik, and the rest of the defense couldn't stop the attack, and Hagerton scored. Their punter, who like Tommy also kicked extra points, split the uprights. Suddenly, Gordonsville was behind by seven points. "Shit, shit, shit!" PJ heard Erik mutter as they ran off the field. After Hagerton's kickoff and as his offense took the field, Coach Lewis shouted, "Okay guys, let's get it back!" But the dispirited Gordonsville players didn't respond. They went three-and-out, and PJ found himself once again struggling with the rest of his teammates on defense, trying to blunt the Hagerton attack. Run followed run, hammering up the middle. Hagerton advanced slowly down the field, crossed into Gordonsville territory, and kept coming on until finally, Erik got into their backfield and threw the quarterback down for a loss. It brought up a third-and-six on the Gordonsville twenty-eight. Remembering how he'd almost been burned in the first quarter, this time PJ was looking for a pass. He played off the receiver, hoping the quarterback would be tempted to try one. Sure enough! There it was! He closed quickly as the pass was thrown, leaped in front of the reaching Hagerton boy, and snatched the ball away before the bigger player could react. Tucking it under his arm, he flew up the field, seeing Erik alertly throw a block for him out of the corner of his eye. The way in front was barred by Hagerton uniforms, so he dashed off toward the sideline. He had just reached it when two of the other team's players hit him in a bone-jarring tackle that sent him tumbling out of bounds, stars exploding in his eyes! Someone helped him up. After shaking his head to clear it, he saw that he'd managed to get the ball back to the opposing team's forty two. He'd also landed in the middle of the Hagerton bench and been yankeded up by one of their players. As he trotted away, he heard someone yell, "Get the fuck out of here, you little preppy wimp." On his own side, Erik, Brian, and Phil were waiting to offer congratulations. "I had a feeling you were gonna try that," Erik said, grinning. "Thanks for your block," PJ told him gratefully. PJ's good play, though, did nothing to inspire the offense, which seemed to be slowly deteriorating under the punishment the Hagerton defense was inflicting. To PJ, watching from the sideline, it seemed as if the confidence was going out of his team like air escaping from a leaking balloon. They quickly went three-and-out. Tommy's punt this time only went twenty yards and was returned for fifteen. Once more the Gordonsville defense found itself on the field, and unlike last time, they couldn't stop the Hagerton onslaught. The opposing quarterback uncorked a few more passes, keeping them on the side of the field away from PJ, and had just enough success, along with the powerful running game, to get another touchdown. The extra point try was another good one. Now Hagerton led 14-0. Coach Lewis had been having a serious talk with Lester, so when Gordonsville went out after the kickoff to start from their thirty-seven, the offense seemed more lively. They managed two first downs, moving across midfield. Then they tried a passing attack of their own. At first it was successful. Lester completed two passes and engineered another first down. "Here we go," PJ told Erik. But his roommate only grunted. Erik's skepticism proved well-founded because inside the Hagerton twenty, the attack stalled as the defense dug in. On third and six, Lester called another pass play which was well set up. Looking to make a quick touchdown, he sent two receivers into the end zone, keeping a third one just over the line of scrimmage so if he had to, he could dump off for an easy completion and first down. Moreover, the pass blocking was good, there was plenty of time, and one of the deep receivers got wide open. Everything was working perfectly! Then PJ heard Erik, who was standing right next to him, curse under his breath, "No! Oh, fuck, NO!" Inexplicably, Lester had thrown to the deep receiver who was covered, ignoring the other one who was in the clear, frantically waving his arm! To make matters worse, the ball was underthrown. A defensive back caught it easily and ran out of bounds through the back of the end zone. Just like that, Hagerton had the ball on its own twenty. "Damn it! Son of a bitch!" PJ could hear his roommate swearing as he followed him out onto the field. "We force a turnover," Erik told the rest of the defense when they gathered at the line of scrimmage. "We get the ball back and score some fucking points! We don't go in at the half with nothing on the board!" The Hagerton drive that followed was another long, grinding effort. In their linebacker positions, Erik and Nate were taking the brunt of it. Over and over they made tackles on the ball carrier or blitzed into the offensive line trying to break up a play. PJ helped all he could, playing up on his position as much as he dared and making a few key stops on runners who broke through. When the relentless Hagerton advance was finally stopped inside the Gordonsville fifteen, their field goal unit came on, and this time they got the three points. The scoreboard changed again: Gordonsville 0, Hagerton 17. With time running out in the half, the Gordonsville offense tried valiantly to get something going. They'd had a long rest during the last series of plays and started strong with a few decent running plays. But the Hagerton defense had been resting too, and didn't let up their hard tackling and rough play. On one short pass attempt, PJ saw the Gordonsville receiver get slammed as he tried to catch the ball. The pigskin went flying, the pass fell incomplete, and the boy got up slowly. He went limping back to the huddle where PJ saw him shaking his head, apparently lecturing Lester. Despite the punishment they were taking from the big Hagerton defensemen, the offense did move the ball over midfield as the clock ticked off. Then, just after the two-minute warning to the benches, Lester and a running back got their signals crossed. The handoff was fumbled. Hagerton recovered. On the sideline, Erik cursed for the upteenth time. He and PJ pulled on their helmets and ran onto the field. "These guys do not get another score in this half!" Erik told the defensive unit. "I don't care what you have to do. We stop them!" But this was easier said than done. The Hagerton offense, fired up by the turnover and determined to put more points on the board, moved to the attack. And the Gordonsville defense was tiring. They'd been on the field virtually the entire half. Two big runs took the Hagerton team over midfield. They hit a pass play for a quick first down and then ran again. The closing seconds of the half found them once more inside the Gordonsville twenty. PJ was sure they would try to pass, and so was Eric. He and the defensive captain put them into a prevent formation. PJ stayed back off the line of scrimmage, guarding his receiver. Almost too late, he saw that instead of passing, the Hagerton quarterback had handed off to a back who burst around and past Gordonsville defenders, running down the sideline. Desperately, PJ angled over in a burst of speed, hurled his wiry body at the big runner, and bulldogged him out of bounds at the one-yard line. Time had expired during the play. The half ended. PJ's breath had been knocked out of him when he and the ball carrier hit the ground, the big, heavy Hagerton boy on top. He was struggling to his feet Erik when arrived to help him up. As he gasped and tried to get air, his roommate patted him on his back. "Nice going, PJ." "Lucky . . . " It was all PJ could do to gasp out the words. He sucked in more deep breaths. "Thought he would . . . pull me over . . . goal line with him." They walked slowly across the field toward the locker room, accompanied by Brian and Phil. "We could beat these guys if we didn't keep turning the ball over," Brian said in frustration. "We can make 'em cough the ball up, too," Erik told him grimly. "We just have to hit 'em hard enough. But we can't beat 'em if we keep makin' stupid plays on offense." "Your nose . . . is bleeding," PJ observed. Erik wiped his face with his hand and looked at the blood on his fingers without saying anything more. When they reached the locker room, Phil ran and got some wet paper towels for him so he could clean himself off. The mood in the locker room was somber. Everyone was tired. Some of the players on the offense were pretty banged up. When Coach Lewis stood at the front to talk to them, he looked serious. "We knew coming in that this team plays a physical game, and you've all had a chance to experience it. They don't do anything fancy. They just try to wear you down, and right now they're succeeding. The way to beat this team is to get them off-balance; force them to react faster than they want to. And we need to get some ball control so we can give our defense a rest. We're going to try something a little different in the third quarter to try and make that happen." Matt Aubrey handed him a sheet of paper from the clipboard and the coach looked over at where Erik and PJ were sitting next to Brian and Phil. "Erik, I want you to go in as quarterback when we start the second half. And PJ, you substitutes for Lyle as a receiver." After reading off more substitutions, he told the first-string players, "You fellows take a break while we see how things go. Let's see if we can't get this game turned around our way. I know you can beat this team if you can just get some momentum." PJ and Erik looked at each other. Erik's eyes flashed. Brian and Phil crowded excitedly around them. "They have to kick off to us," Erik told PJ, "so we'll have the ball right away. I'll call a few running plays to lull them into thinking we're not changing anything. That will give you time to check out their secondary. You tell me what pattern you want to use and then we'll go for a long one, okay?" PJ nodded and put out his fist. "Together!" Erik touched it with his own. "Together," Brian and Phil chorused as they added their fists to his. Across the room PJ saw Lester and some of his friends scowling at them. They did not appear happy. But nearby, Jacob, Nolan, and a few others were grimly smiling. Lyle, the right-side wide receiver PJ was substituting for, came over to him, leaned down, and whispered, "Watch yourself out there. Those Hagerton guys are really hitting!" * * * The second half of the game opened with Gordonsville running the kickoff back to their own thirty-one. Erik led the offensive unit onto the field, and, as he had promised, called two running plays. PJ sized up the defensive backs and safety men. They were good. The two backs in particular were both older boys, bigger than PJ, and they looked rangy and fast. It wasn't going to be easy to get open. But he was helped by the fact that they had become accustomed to Gordonsville not passing very often. With luck, he could burn them at least once before they caught on to the changes in the offensive strategy. He reported this to Erik in the huddle. "I'll do a post," he said. Then he looked at the other receiver, one of the thirteen-year-old first-stringers. "We'll double to my side and crossover. You go down the sideline and hook back. That'll make the corner commit. One of us will get open." The older boy shook his head. "No way! Those guys are too fast and too big. I almost got killed last time we passed. I'm not doing it again." Erik stared at him. "Fuck this," he said. He immediately signaled for a timeout and trotted to the sideline where he had a short talk with Coach Lewis. When he came back, Brian was following him, pulling on his helmet. Erik pointed at the original receiver. "Get your ass off the field. You've been substituted for." The boy gave Erik a furious look and trudged reluctantly to the sideline. PJ saw Coach Lewis beckon him over for a "discussion." Brian took his place in the huddle. Erik looked at him and said, "I just kicked one asshole pussy off the field! Are you afraid to catch a pass against these guys?" "Fuck, no! Throw me the ball," Brian told him. This netted a grin from Nolan. Jacob was standing right next to him. The two thirteen-year-olds smacked shoulders. Erik stared coldly around the huddle. "Anyone else here wanna sit the rest of this game out? Let's hear it right now!" No one said a word. Erik turned to PJ. "Okay, tell Brian what he's supposed to do." PJ explained the pattern again and Brian nodded. Erik made one more sweep of the huddle with his gaze, meeting each boy's eyes for a moment. Then he barked out, "Red-River-Two, Texas-Gold-61, Texas-Gold-61, on Two. Break!" They clapped and crisply broke huddle. Erik strode confidently up to the line, surveyed the defense, and bent over Cuyler, the center. "Hu-u-u-ut, Hut, Hut!" he cried. When Cuyler snapped the ball, Erik faded back and rolled right. The defense, already confused and wary because of the sudden timeout and Brian's appearance in the game, wasn't sure what was happening. PJ and Brian crossed going into their patterns, and the defensive back on Brian's side kept his eye on him. PJ accelerated into the flat and looked over his shoulder. Anticipating his move, Erik already had the ball in the air. PJ lengthened his stride and just managed to get to it, catching it with his arms fully extended. As he pulled it in, he saw the safety converging on him. He cut, slipped a tackle by spinning out of the clutching arms, and sprinted down the field. Behind him, he heard the footsteps of someone right on his tail, so he extended his stride as far as he could and strained to go even faster. Hands clutched desperately for his feet, but it was too late. He dove over the goal line, tumbling like an acrobat. Then he was popping immediately back to his feet, holding the ball up over his head in triumph! He grabbed for that Bhatt Chain around his neck. "For you, Erik," he whispered. Erik and Brian came running to congratulate him. They pounded his shoulder pads, and Erik gave him a big grin. "Sorry about that pass, PJ," he said. "I had to rush it a little and I wasn't exactly sure where to put it." "It got there," PJ told him. "That's all that counts." "You should have seen the fake Brian put on that back," Erik laughed. "The guy was so sure Brian was going to get the ball he almost tackled him." "Thanks Brian." PJ held out a palm and the younger boy slapped it, smiling proudly. On the sidelines, when Phil ran up to offer congratulations, Erik took him to one side for some quarterback strategy talk. PJ watched as Tommy got the extra point. He looked around and saw Bill waving in the stands. PJ grinned and waved back, giving Bill a high sign. The score was a more respectable 7-17! Then he returned his attention to the field, watching the kickoff. Hagerton ran it back almost to the forty. PJ looked around again. Coach Lewis hadn't said anything about not playing defense. PJ tapped Erik on the shoulder and ran out onto the field pulling on his helmet. PJ's impression of the rest of the third quarter was of a slugfest. Although it wasn't easy, the Gordonsville defense, re-energized by the touchdown, stopped the Hagerton offense after only two first downs. Then Erik, after the punt, led their own offensive unit on a long drive. PJ caught no more easy passes. After his touchdown catch, the defensive secondary took him seriously, and both he and Brian were pretty well-covered. But Erik still had a tight end to throw to, as well as a good running game to resort to. The Hagerton defense was stretched now, and their backs couldn't be everywhere. Both PJ and Brian were still able to catch a few of Erik's passes for good yardage. On every completion, of course, the Hagerton defense made them pay with solid tackles. PJ was banged up more than once. But they continued to gain steadily and eventually got down inside the Hagerton ten. That's when Erik called a run from the pro set formation. He handed off to Sandy and faked rolling out to the opposite side, pretending to look for PJ. The defense bit on it as Sandy followed Jacob, his lead blocker, into the end zone. The usually reliable Tommy missed his extra point attempt, but the score was now 13-17! On the sideline after the touchdown, Coach Lewis called the entire offensive unit over to him. Singling out Erik, Sandy, Garry, and Jacob in particular, he called their drive one of the grittiest he'd seen in all his days of coaching. The boys beamed with pride. But the quarter was not over, and Hagerton proved that its offense could still score too. They made a good runback on a punt, started a series on the Gordonsville forty-six, and finally hammered their way into the goal despite several good defensive plays by Erik and a near interception by PJ. At the end of the quarter, the score was 13-24. When the fourth quarter began, Coach Lewis substituted for both Erik and PJ on defense. "You're staying in is quarterback for the rest of the game, Erik," he said. "And PJ, I want you to stay at wide receiver." He didn't explain why he was not putting Lester back in the game, but PJ was sure he knew the answer. He and Erik sat down on the bench to take a breather and watched the defense go to work out on the field. "Do you still feel like we're going to win this game, PJ?" Erik asked. "Yeah, I do! In fact, I know it!" PJ told him. Replied Erik, "Well, ya' finally got me convinced! Chapter Sixty-Six: Never Say Die! Out on the field, the Hagerton offense kept grinding out yardage as their crowd of fans cheered them on. They pushed across midfield, then down over the forty and the thirty. Erik jumped off the bench in frustration. "I'm gonna ask Coach to let me go back in on defense. We can't let them score any more!" PJ pulled him back down. "Wait!" The defensive unit had finally stiffened up. The Hagerton ball carrier was tackled for a loss and the field-goal unit came on. The kick attempt wobbled just wide of the uprights. Erik breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's do it again, PJ!" he said as he put on his helmet. The drive that followed was a long, hard-fought battle. PJ and Brian scrambled in the secondary, cutting and faking to get open. As the Hagerton defensive backs struggled to cover them, PJ could see that they were starting to tire. PJ knew his own endurance would be an advantage, and deliberately began running longer routes to force his man to stay with him. Whenever the defender started to lag, PJ would tell Erik so they could work another pass play for good yardage. But the other team's defense would know how to adjust. PJ was often double-teamed, forcing Erik to instead throw quick passes to Brian, who wasn't as tall or as fast. It was touch-and-go on each series of downs. Inside the Hagerton thirty, it seemed that the defense had them stopped. An incomplete pass to Brian left them with a third-and-eight. Erik called for another pass, took the snap, and rolled out to his left. But he tucked the ball under his arm because he'd never even intended to throw the ball. He straight-armed the defensive end who tried to come in on him and danced around another would-be tackler for ten yards and a first down. When he came back to the huddle, his nose was bleeding again, but he was grinning broadly and told his teammates, "That gave 'em something to think about!" A Garry run and a short pass to Brian got them a first and goal inside the ten. Brian got up slowly after he was tackled. PJ gave him a hand and asked, "Okay?" Brian grinned. "Yeah. These guys can hit. But I'm wearin' 'em down." "Me, too!" PJ laughed. In the huddle, Erik glanced at PJ and called for a rollout pass with both receivers stacked to the right. On the snap, PJ and Brian both accelerated into the end zone--and cut in opposite directions! Erik's rollout froze the defenders because they looked for him to run. PJ found himself a step ahead of his coverage. Now, Erik! he thought. He put his hands out and Erik rifled the ball straight to him. Clutching it to his chest, PJ tumbled to the ground as a Hagerton player tackled him. But his feet had stayed in bounds. The officials raised their arms to signal the touchdown! Erik and Brian both jumped on PJ to celebrate. This time, Tommy's extra-point try was good. The score was 20-24, with five minutes still left in the game! "You can do it, guys!" Erik told the defense as they went onto the field after Gordonsville's kickoff.. "Just get that ball for us one more time!" But the other team was determined not to let that happen. They knew that if they could maintain possession, the game was theirs. They ran Kip's kickoff back to the thirty-three and began to grind out the yardage with their running game. With Phil next to him, Erik paced up and down the sideline like a caged tiger, talking and gesturing with his hands. The Hagerton offense made a first down. The clock kept running. At one point, Erik went and said something to his coach, but the young man shook his head. Erik went back to pacing, with Phil sticking right by him. "It's gonna be up to us," PJ told Brian quietly. "One of us is gonna have to get open." Brian solemnly nodded. The Gordonsville defense set its heels and hung on. Twice they stopped the Hagerton ball carrier for only a short gain. The clock continued to run down. There was a pause for the two-minute warning. "Watch the pass!" PJ yelled out as the teams lined up for the third-and-long. The opposing quarterback took the snap . . . faded back . . . PJ's heart almost stopped when he saw that one of the receivers was loose in the flat. But Gordonsville got a break. The pass was just a little overthrown. When the ball tipped off the hands of the receiver and fell on the ground, PJ drew a sigh of relief. Erik and Phil came striding over. "Okay, here we go!" Erik said. The Hagerton punt was a wobbler. It bounced off the chest of Sandy who was back as a receiver. He immediately fell on it, smothering the ball with his body before getting jumped upon by a Hagerton player. Erik led the offense out to start deep in their own territory with less than two minutes to go and only two timeouts left. Gordonsville now faced a prevent defense. Erik started his two-minute drill. He'd used up his timeouts by the time they reached midfield. He was now using everything in the playbook, mixing his runs with short passes. The defense was hitting back with everything it had. PJ caught a short pass over the middle and barely had time to get hold of the ball before he felt a tremendous blow. He blacked out for a second, and came to on the ground barely conscious but still holding onto the ball. He got up slowly and tried not to weave going back to the huddle. He didn't want Coach Lewis to pull him out of the game. Nolan gave him a steadying hand for a moment while on his other side, Jacob held his elbow. "Okay?" Erik asked, peering at him closely. PJ nodded, but he was still lightheaded on the next play and barely got through it. He lost track of where they were on the field and focused everything on executing his assignment. Just as he had so often in the grueling hours of swimming practice, he used his competitive drive and great endurance to force himself to grind on. When he saw his roommate scramble, he vaguely realized they'd made another first down, but the fact held little significance for him. Only the next play mattered. It was a sideline pass. To him! Even though the football was a blur, PJ managed to catch it and took another terrific hit as two defenders threw him out of bounds. He was groggy as he got up and limped to the huddle. There was pain in his ribs and his right hip. Dimly, he realized that Erik was saying something to him about the clock. As his head started to clear, he distinctly heard Erik say, "It has to be now, PJ." He met his friend's eyes and said, "Just get the ball to me." As he lined up in his wide-receiver position, it finally dawned on him that this was the last play of the game. From deep within he summoned his last reserves. Eyed the older boy defending him, he reminded himself, I can take him. And then the ball was snapped. PJ shot off the line, accelerating swiftly, grating his teeth to ignore the pain in his hip. He angled first for the sideline and then faked, cutting down the field a few steps ahead of the obviously tired defender. He took a quick look. The pass was coming! Erik hadn't waited to see if he would get open but had thrown it believing that he would. So deft was the throw, the ball seemed to drift into PJ's grasp. He saw the safeties angling in, but nothing, nothing was going to stop him. He was like a machine sprinting for the end zone. He heard the crowd roaring and cut past the last tackler, leaving the boy tumbling to the ground behind him. With a rush of exhilaration, he held the football up in his hand as he crossed the goal line! Almost immediately, he slowed and then staggered as he went to one knee to keep from falling. His legs were shaking. There was pain in his side. He gasped--but not out of pain. The realization of what he'd just done had just hit him. "For you, Jack. That was for you!" I didn't forget what you said. Never say die! Anything's possible! We won today, an' so will you tonight! You're gonna take the Red Sox all the way! His teammates mobbed around him before he could get up. Nolan helped him to stand. Erik gave him an arm to lean on as he hobbled off the field. Matthew was there, waving the clipboard, face as red as his hair, flushed with excitement as he yelled something about passing yards. They watched Tommy try for the extra point. Though the point would be meaningless, his kick was good again, and everyone cheered. They had won the game with a final score of 27-24! After getting the congratulations of his friends and Coach Lewis, PJ limped across the field to shake hands with the other team. They did it with grudging respect. "Where were you guys in the first half?" one boy asked, looking at Erik who'd followed PJ over. "Playing defense," Erik told him. "That one little kid that came in to play receiver sure has guts," another remarked. PJ nodded in agreement. "He's right over there," he said, pointing to where Brian was standing with Phil next to him. "He's a good kid. It would probably be nice for him if you'd tell him that yourself." "I will," said the boy, and he walked over. A few more Hagerton players came to shake hands. After that, the four Gordonsville boys walked slowly to the locker room. PJ was still limping. After he had gotten undressed, Coach Lewis came over to him. Without saying anything, he picked PJ up and carried him to a table on the side of the room and made him lie down on it. Then he carefully felt the boy's side and hip. "I guess it's just bruises," the young coach said. "I hope so, anyway. This was bothering you all through those last plays, wasn't it." PJ looked down uncomfortably and didn't say anything. "I should have taken you out of the game right then and there, and next time I will if you don't talk to me," the coach continued, trying to sound stern. PJ forced himself to meet Coach Lewis' eyes and said, meekly, "it wasn't hurting that much, Coach. I knew I could still play." "That's not a decision you're qualified to make, PJ," Coach Lewis told him. "One of my jobs is to see to it that you don't get injured. I can't do that if you don't trust me and tell me when you're hurting. You say something, okay?" PJ nodded. The coach looked at him with pride now in his eyes. "Come on, kid, you know I'm on your side. You know I'd never take you out unless I had to. I just don't want you hurt, that's all. For one thing, I need you for the rest of the games." He grinned at PJ. "And for another, the swim coach would kill me. And for another . . ."--he patted PJ's shoulder--". . . for another, I sort of like you a lot. So let me do my job, okay? I'm your coach. Talk to me. And don't keep it a secret if something's hurting you. Trust me to make the right decision. Okay?" PJ smiled at him. "I will, Coach. I promise." "Thanks," Coach Lewis said. "Now take a shower and get some hot water on that hip, and we'll see how it goes. If it's still bothering you tomorrow, I'll get you some time in the whirlpool. Oh, and PJ. . ."--Coach Lewis patted him again--". . . in case I haven't told you already, nice game!" PJ grinned. He climbed off the table gingerly, got a towel, and hobbled into the shower. Bill was waiting for all of them out by the bus, smiling and waving when he caught sight of them. But his expression changed to one of concern when he saw that PJ was lame. "What's wrong, PJ?" he said, going quickly to him. "You were limping after the game, too, weren't you. Erik, where's your coach? Does he know about this? Go find him and tell him to come here." "It's okay, Bill," PJ assured him quickly. "Coach Lewis knows. He already checked me. He says it's probably just a bruise. He's going to check again tomorrow. I'll be okay." Bill didn't look satisfied, but he reluctantly replied, "All right. But I want you and Erik to call me on Saturday and I want to hear how you're doing, okay?" "Okay," both boys said. "You played a terrific game," Bill said, proudly looking at the four of them. "Phil, I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to go in. I was hoping to see you play, too." "That's okay," said the young boy. "I'll play in the scrimmage game on Saturday." "Phil's gonna get his chance before this season's over," PJ said. He put his arm around his little friend's shoulders. "I'm sure he will," Bill said. "As for the rest of you . . . well . . . I don't know what to say. You were just terrific. All of you. I thought that game was going to get away from you, just like that first one. And then the way you came back in the second half . . . it was just . . ." "It was Erik who did it," PJ said, looking up at Bill. "If it wasn't for him we would'na won." "Come on, PJ," Erik said, turning red. "You made the touchdowns and caught my lousy passes. You and Brian. Without you . . ." "Geez, Erik!" Brian said. "An' you're always telling Phil not to be modest." He looked up at Bill. "Erik is the best. He made us believe we could win, and then he went out and did it. He won the game!" "I think you were all great," Bill said. "Your whole team. Every one of you." "That's right," Erik told them. "It's teamwork that did it. It's like Jack said about the Red Sox. No one person wins or loses the game. It takes a team effort to win, and we did it today!" "And we're gonna do it again next week, too!" PJ exclaimed. "That's right, you guys play Fieldstone next week, don't you," Bill said. "They're your big rivals." "And the defending champs from last year," PJ said. "That's going to be a big game," Bill said thoughtfully. "You know, it's a shame that more people aren't coming out to see your games. I can't do much about that, but I can do something helpful. Phil, Brian: what are your dads' phone numbers? I'm going to call them." He got a notepad out of his pocket and jotted down the telephone numbers the boys gave him. "I can't promise anything," Bill said, "but I'll try to get some kind of cheering section for your next game. That way you won't have to listen to just me all the time." "We don't mind hearing you, Bill," PJ told him with a smile. "Fieldstone's a home game, so Billy and his dad will be there cheering," Erik said. "That's right!" Bill said. "PJ, what's their number?" He got his notebook back out and wrote down the one PJ gave him. "PJ, are you sure you don't want me to call Jack?" he asked. PJ shook his head firmly. "I'll be e-mailing him tonight." "Okay," Bill said. "By the way, I hope he wins tonight." "He will," PJ said with confidence. "I know he will." "I better let you fellows get on the bus," Bill said. "Boys, you're coach must be very pleased with you and I know if your dads were here they'd be more proud of you than. . ." He shook his head helplessly. He reached down and gave first Phil and then Brian a quick hug. He picked up Eric and held him tightly. When he whispered something to him, Erik threw his arms around him and hugged back. After he had put his son down, he picked up PJ. "Man, you and Erik are getting big," he said smiling. "I won't be able to do this in another year! PJ, I just wish Jack could have been here to see you. I know he would have been thrilled. He cares about you so much. I know he does because he told me. When you write him, you tell him I said hello. And you and Erik call me on Saturday! If that sore hip of yours isn't better then, I want to know about it. Or else I'll call Jack whether you want me to or not! Now, you are not hobbling onto that bus by yourself. I'll carry you. Erik, where do you guys want to sit?" Erik led the way onto the bus and down the aisle to their usual spot. Bill deposited PJ into a seat and made sure he was comfortable. "All right, you guys. I'll see you next week!" He gave Erik a final nudge on his arm, waved goodbye, and left. Erik sat down next to PJ, and Phil and Brian took the seats right behind. "I think Bill was kind of proud of us today," Erik said happily. "No duh, Erik," PJ told him, smiling. "You were sorta good today. You know, having Bill here is almost just like having Jack come. They're a lot alike in some ways." Erik laughed. "How do you figure that, PJ? I don't think Bill was ever that good in sports." PJ shrugged. "It's not that. It's that they both have a way of making you feel good." He paused and then said, "You know what I've been thinking about?" "What?" his roommate asked curiously. "About what Jack told us that one time," PJ told him. At the repeated mention of Jack's name, Brian and Phil had leaned over the seats to listen. "He told it to us that first time," PJ continued. "Almost a year ago, remember? He said anyone can win when they're ahead, but only great champions can come from behind." He looked at Erik very seriously and said, "You're one of those, Erik. You're one of those great champions he was talking about." Erik regarded him for a moment with gratitude and warmth. "Thanks, PJ," he said quietly. He looked back at Brian and Phil and said, "Jack was talking about PJ when he said that." He thought for a little longer and then said, "I think we're all champions, every one of us today. I just want the chance to keep proving it." "I bet we're gonna get that chance," PJ answered. They got back that evening barely in time for dinner. Afterwards, PJ hurried to his computer to write a quick note to Jack before going down to see the beginning of his game on TV. He briefly described his own game and gave the final score, attributing all the credit for their comeback to Erik. "I got a couple of touchdowns," he typed. "I also got hurt near the end, but the coach says it's probly just a bad bruise. I wish you could have seen the last score I made. Erik threw a nice pass and I caught it and made a good run. I was thinking of you and your game tonight. I know this won't get to you in time for you to read it before the game, but I know your going to win it Jack. I am sure of it. Good luck. I will be watching and cheering for you. Love PJ." He ran his Spell Check, which caught a couple of silly errors (oh, why hadn't he paid more attention to Mr. Bingham's lectures on grammar and spelling!), and fired the message off. Game three of the Red-Sox-Mariners series was on the West Coast, so the action didn't start until after nine o'clock. Plenty of boys crowded into the Common Room to watch it on TV, and PJ and Erik were lucky to get seats. Erik, exhausted by an afternoon of football, began to nod in the first inning. PJ, despite the tense excitement of his team's battle to avoid elimination, might have succumbed to fatigue for the same reason, but the throbbing pain in his leg kept him awake. He and the other Sox fans saw Seattle take a one-run lead into the fourth inning--when at 10.30, Mr. Williamson came in, turned off the TV, and ordered them all upstairs to bed! There were multiple cries of protest, accompanied by pleas for "Just a half-hour more?" "School night," the housemaster reminded them. "I've already given you an extra half-hour. Up to bed. All of you!" PJ wasn't complaining, though. He knew he could hear the rest of the game on his pocket radio. In fact, in some ways he preferred listening to games that way, especially at night, because it somehow made it more exciting when he had to imagine what he couldn't see! He was careful to conceal his limp while he painfully climbed the stairs behind Erik because he didn't want Mr. Williamson fussing over him, or worse, decreeing that he couldn't play football. In their room, once they'd undressed and slipped into bed under their covers, Erik fell right asleep. But PJ, uncomfortable because of the throbbing in his hip, remained awake. He tuned in his radio to the game. It was now the bottom of the fifth inning. Seattle was at bat, still in the lead by one run and threatening to score even more because they had men on first and second, even though there were two outs. The familiar voice of the Red-Sox play-by-play announcer came through PJ's ear buds: "Here's the pitch . . . Ball down and in . . . Count's full, three and two . . ." In the background, PJ heard a chant going: "Let's go Red Sox!" Clap, clap . . . clap-clap-clap! Red Sox fans! he thought delightedly. They're everywhere! Even in the Mariner's home stadium, no less, Boston fans were making themselves heard! The play-by-play continued: ". . . He checks the runners . . . The pitch . . ." "Crack! PJ could hear the sound of a wooden bat hitting a ball! The crowd roared! ". . . A blistering grounder! Through the right side!" Noise almost drowned out the announcer's voice. PJ tensed. But now the voice rose to a scream!: "Canon's charging in! He scoops the ball! Runner's around third . . .! He's gonna score . . ." Another huge roar from the crowd! "NO!" The announcer was yelling hysterically!: "He's OUT! Runner's OUT! A laser! Canon fired a laser to the plate! Kelly puts on the tag! Oh, what a play!" Now, the broadcaster's voice retuned to a more normal level. "Three outs. Inning over. At the end of five, Seattle still leads by one . . ." Like the announcer, PJ gradually relaxed, only one thought filling his mind: You're gonna win, Jack. I know it. While the radio played a commercial, he tried shifting position to ease the weight on his hip, but the throbbing stayed the same. He gritted his teeth. "Let's go Red Sox!" The fans were chanting again as Boston came to bat in the sixth inning. The lead-off hitter made it to first on a single. The next hitter grounded out, but moved the runner to second. In the background, behind the announcer's voice, PJ heard the fans start a new chant: "Jack . . . Jack . . . Jack!" A thrill shivered through him. Jack was up! Suddenly, without understanding it, PJ knew with absolute certainty what was going to happen. Hardly daring to breathe, he listened to the play-by-play: "Canon takes his stance . . . Here's the pitch . . . Outside. It's--no! It's being called a strike! Canon steps out. He's not happy with that one, folks. But he says nothing. He never does. He re-tightens his batting gloves. Now he's back in . . . The catcher is setting up outside. They're gonna be careful pitching to him . . ." "Jack! Jack! Jack!" The chanting was louder, and the Seattle fans were responding with yelling of their own. Now, thought PJ, clenching a fist. Now Jack! Almost lost in the din came the announcer's voice: ". . . into the stretch . . . He delivers . . .!" THAWAKA! PJ heard the sound clearly above all the crowd noise. It was the incredible sound of power he'd heard so often standing next to the batting cage at Fenway when Jack was hitting. A huge roar exploded in his ear buds! The announcer was screaming, ". . . GONE! It's GONE! A tremendous shot! The outfielders are just looking up! Oh, my! A two-run blast from The Canon! It's into the left-field upper deck! Jack tosses his bat. That special way he does it, twirling it upside down. He's jogging around the bases. The Red Sox dugout empties to greet him at the plate . . . Sox take a one-run lead!" "Knew it!" PJ exclaimed out loud, his heart thumping. He checked to make sure he hadn't awakened Erik. I knew it! I knew it! You're gonna win, Jack. You're gonna win! At the moment, the crow's frenzied cheering in his ears, PJ wanted to believe that Jack had read his e-mail right before the game. An' then he hit that home run just for me! With all his heart he so wanted to believe that. . . . Take them all the way, Jack, he silently mouthed to the darkness. If Jack's with me, I don't ever gotta be scared again of the dark. "I'm here, Little Champ. I'm right with you." The words in his head seemed so real. PJ turned to look, expecting to see Jack leaning over him. Oh, how he wished it were real! Very quietly so as not to disturb Erik, he slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the room to open the closet door so he could see Jack's poster. Then he slipped back under the covers and lay there, looking at it in the dim glow of his nightlight, listening to his radio. Seattle failed to score any more runs. His eyes closed for awhile, but he came awake enough at game's end to hear the broadcaster confirm a Red Sox victory. After turning the radio off, he stared up at the ceiling and imagined the cracks in the plaster had gone away. His hip throbbed, yet somehow he didn't care. Under the covers, he touched his neck chains, taking hold of the Bhatt links and Billy's St. Christopher's medal. "Never say die," he whispered to himself. The Sox were still alive, Jack had had a great game, the Gordonsville Middle School football team had won--and by gosh, he'd had a darn good game that day himself! * * * CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT THIRTY-FIVE Editor Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmail.com Write me back 'cause we love to hear from you guys!