Date: Fri, 22 Jan 2016 20:38:11 -0500
From: Paul Knoke <paulkdoctor@gmail.com>
Subject: THE FATHER CONTRACT INSTALLMENT FORTY-ONE

   INSTALLMENT FORTY-ONE
   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 Seventy-Six: Two Boys In One

       As he suited up that Thursday afternoon for the Essex game, PJ kept
having the oddest feeling that he'd become two boys.

       One of them, the PJ that everyone knew and saw every day, was Erik's
roommate. He went to swim practice in the mornings, attended classes,
played football in the afternoons, and sometimes helped Phil and Brian with
their homework. But there was another PJ, the real one that no one
knew. That PJ had once lived in a penthouse high above a city, but now had
retreated to a long gray corridor under a huge unknown stadium. His world
was dark, lonely, and filled with strange terrors. Whenever he looked in a
mirror, PJ could see that other self, the real self, peering fearfully out
at him from behind the eyes of his reflection.

       "It's coming," the real PJ kept warning him. "None of these things
you're doing matter."

       "Jack will help us," the everyday PJ assured him.

       "No," came the whispered reply. "Jack's not coming."

       "Yes he is," PJ insisted. "I'm going to bring him."

       PJ had the beginnings of a plan. He would make a journey to find
Jack. He'd done it before: to Florida, New York, Philadelphia,
Chicago. Mostly it'd worked. It might be a little harder this time, that
was all. He needed the right opportunity, and for that, the World Series
must be brought back to Boston. The Sox had already lost Game Four in
Atlanta. Though he felt bad about not wanting them to win, they must lose
Game Five as well for his plan to work. Friday would then be a travel day,
and on Saturday, a Game Six would be at Fenway Park. PJ had tickets. He had
tickets for Sunday too, in case there was a Game Seven. Somehow he would
find a way to get there. He knew older boys on the Upper-School football
and swimming teams. They had cars. He'd get one of them to drive him to
Boston.

       PJ was thinking about this in the locker room while Erik helped him
tape on the extra hip- pad protection. The tickets. They were the key. Get
into the stadium and find Jack . . .

       He was pulling up his uniform pants, tying the laces in front, when
it struck him. The tickets--of course! He'd suspected all along that Jack
had been responsible for them, and now he was positive. It was so
obvious. Jack was testing him! Jack was always testing him, just like the
week before at the Foxton game, just like--

       PJ stared straight ahead into his open locker. Yes! It was all
clear. Jack had been testing him ever since Chicago! It had all been a
test. And now, the tickets carried a message:

       	Now, Little Champ! Now come to me. It's time. Together we break the
Curse! I can't do it alone. I need your help. Come to me.

       Elated, PJ touched the Bhatt chain and Saint Christopher medal he
wore around his neck. He was two boys, with two missions. Today, he would
help his best friend take another step towards a Championship. Then would
come his second and most important mission: he'd been summoned. Jack had
sent for him. Together they must stand against the Curse of the Bambino. He
would answer the call. Everything with Jack was going to be alright, and
. . .

       "Hold still, PJ," Erik was saying.  He was fitting the shoulder pads
onto him. "Lemme cinch these up. We don't want anything coming loose out
there. We gotta beat this team."

       "We're gonna beat Essex," PJ told him confidently. "We beat `em in
swimming. We beat `em in baseball . . ."

       "Yeah, except we didn't," Erik reminded him. "They beat
us. Remember? They eliminated us in the playoffs."

       "Humph!" PJ snorted, recalling that he'd made the last out in that
game. "Well, we're gonna beat `em today." He helped Erik get into his own
shoulder pads, they pulled on their blue-and-red Gordonsville jerseys, and
joined Brian and Phil, who'd been waiting so the Top Floor Gang could walk
together down to the field.

       "Oh, wow! This is almost as big a crowd as we had for the Fieldstone
game," Brian exclaimed.

       "I think word is finally getting around that we have a shot at the
Championship," Erik told him. He was scanning faces in the bleachers. "Hey!
I see the Williamsons. But I don't see Bill."

       "There he is." PJ pointed. "See him? He's waving. Wow, Check out all
the people that are with him. There's Billy and . . ."

       "Dad!" Phil shouted happily. DAD!" He started to run, his slender
form dashing on ahead. A man standing next to Bill jumped down from the row
of bleachers. Phil threw himself at him, and the man picked him up and
tightly hugged him. PJ had to look away for a moment as a lump formed in
his throat.

       "I think Phil's dad made it to the game," Erik said, smiling.

       "Yeah. . . ."  PJ had to force the words past that lump. "I'm glad
for him."

       "He is such a nice kid," Erik agreed. "Brian, there's your dad with
mine. Let's go see them."

       PJ was left standing alone near the Gordonsville bench. He looked
over the crowd hopefully, even though he knew that there was no way Jack
could be there. The Red Sox were in Atlanta where in few more hours they
would be playing Game Five. Billy and his dad were waving. At least they're
here to see me play. He could always count on Billy and Mr. Thatcher. When
he waved to them, Billy scrambled down out of the stands and came running
over.

       "Good luck today, PJ."

       "You know I'll do my best," PJ told him. "Be sure to cheer real loud
so I'll hear you. It means a lot to me."

       "You'll hear me. I promise!" Billy was looking up at him, eyes
shining with adoration.
       "Thanks, Little Brother." PJ gave the boy a quick hug before going
out onto the field. Warm-ups were starting.

       When the officials held the coin toss, Essex Academy won and elected
to receive. While he and Erik watched the special teams line up for the
kickoff, PJ asked, "You think you'll get Brian in again as a wide
receiver?"

       "I don't know." Erik glanced around before continuing in a
confidential tone of voice. "Those older guys, Lester's buddies, they're
supposed to start. That really pissed me off. It's only because they went
and whined about it to Coach. But I hope so."

       The Essex kick receiver ran the ball back to the thirty-five, and
their offense came out onto the field to get started. Remembering how good
their baseball team had been, PJ was expecting their football team to be
just as good. He was surprised, then, when they quickly went three and out
with two ineffective running plays and a wobbly pass that was wide of its
mark. Maybe these guys will be easy, he thought, as he jogged onto the
field with Dustin to receive their punt.

       That theory was quickly proven wrong. The Essex offense might have
been unspectacular, but there was nothing wrong with their defense and
special teams. They had no need to use the bullying tactics PJ had
encountered with Hagerton and Foxton. Like Gordonsville, Essex played good,
clean football. Their defense turned out to be quick and smart. When PJ
gathered in their punt and took it up the field, he ran into a crowd of
Essex jerseys which squashed his runback at the thirty-seven. On Erik's
first play-call, a plunge by PJ up the middle, he was stopped after only a
three-yard gain by a bone-rattling tackle that was just as hard as anything
he'd received the week before.

       Erik nodded to him grimly in the huddle and muttered, "Let's try
stretching these guys out a little." He called a pass and managed a short
completion to the tight end. Then he sent PJ on a corner sweep that with
the help of a fine block by Jacob netted a first down plus five yards
more. "That's better," Erik told them.

       By varying the plays and keeping the defense off-balance, they were
able to get additional first downs that moved them into Essex territory. It
wasn't easy. Each time PJ went up the middle, he took hard, solid hits. As
they inched over the opposition's forty-yard line, the defense dug in its
heels. After trying a pass to one of the wide receivers which went
incomplete, Erik gave PJ a nod as he came back to the
huddle. "Razzle-dazzle time, PJ." He called out the "Dawn-Rider-Seven" code
for the quarterback option. As he lined up, PJ was apprehensive. He wasn't
sure how well the play would work without Brian in as a decoy. As it turned
out, though, he needn't have worried. On the sweep, Dustin, subbing for
Jacob on the play, led them to the outside on a run to the right and took
out the defensive end. Erik flipped the ball to PJ, who took it around the
corner and raced beyond the secondary, where he was confronted by a group
of Essex jerseys converging on him. He cut to the sideline for a gain of
seventeen yards before being driven out-of-bounds.

       Now they were inside the thirty. When Erik rolled out on his next
play, the Essex linebackers froze nervously, looking for another run. With
a deft toss, Erik fired a pass to one of the older wide receivers, which
put Gordonsville down inside the fifteen. Erik grinned at PJ in the huddle
and again called the "Dawn-Rider-Seven" code, but this time to the opposite
side. Once again, the confused Essex players didn't know what to do. With
Jacob this time as his blocker, Erik slipped tacklers and raced for the
goal. He wasn't a shifty kind of runner like PJ, but he was strong and
fast. He fell across the goal line with two Essex linebackers hanging on to
him!

       There was a big cheer from the Gordonsville stands. Someone was
blowing an air horn. PJ ran up delightedly and helped his roommate to his
feet before giving him a hug and pummeling his back. "Way to go, Erik!" he
yelled. He kept an arm around his friend's shoulders as they went to the
sideline where Coach Lewis and the rest of the team were waiting to offer
congratulations. Up in the stands, Billy was waving and cheering. "Man that
was nice, Erik!" PJ said as they sat down together on the bench. Tommy
missed the extra point, but they led 6-0!

       Erik looked over at PJ and grinned. "I figured I'd better get some
points before you and the receivers got them all." He then squeezed his
eyes shut and grimaced, screwing up the corners of his mouth, pretending to
be in pain. "Geez, PJ, these guys tackle hard! Have they been slamming you
like that? I thought they were going to kill me! I didn't run into that end
zone. I fell into it!"

       PJ laughed. "Yeah. Their defense is for real. They've been hitting
kinda hard."

       Erik rolled his eyes in mock dismay. "There oughta be more respect
for quarterbacks. From now on I'm just gonna hand off and let studs like
you and Jacob or Dustin do the runnin'!"

       The rest of the first quarter went by quickly in a defensive
battle. Gordonsville kept the Essex offense contained, and for awhile,
their defense had just as much success. But at the end of the period, Erik
put together another productive drive. PJ was finally starting to get the
measure of the other team. He broke two good runs up the middle for
considerable yardage by slipping the tackles of tiring Essex players. On
another play, one of his sweeps resulted in a big gain that put
Gordonsville inside the Essex ten-yard line. Erik wasted no time. Keeping
the pressure on, he switched to a "hurry-up" offense, gave the automatic
signal for a pass, and faded back the moment Cuyler snapped the
ball. Lester's buddies, the two wide receivers, confused by Erik's
signal-calling, nearly ruined everything by flubbing their assignments. But
while Jacob and PJ gave Erik protection by taking out blitzing linebackers,
one of the bumbling receivers got loose in the end zone. Erik dropped a
nice pass into his hands for another touchdown just as whistles blew ending
the first quarter. Tommy's extra point was good, and they started the
second quarter leading 13-0!

       Essex tried to battle back. Some of their runners had success, and
the quarterback managed to complete one good pass that got them over
midfield for the first time. They clawed their way down to the thirteen
before finally getting stopped. Still, they scored a field goal with a boy
who kicked straight-away instead of soccer-style. That brought the score to
13-3.

       "You don't see that kick too much anymore," Erik said, as he and PJ
stood watching with Brian and Tommy. "He must be copying Kip."

       "He's pretty good himself," Tommy remarked.

       When Dustin and PJ went out for the kickoff, the same boy angled a
kick to Dustin's side of the field. PJ blocked the first would-be tackler
and went on up the field, taking out two more incoming defenders, which
allowed Dustin to make it as far as the thirty-eight before being
stopped. On Erik's first play from scrimmage, he handed off to PJ, who
right away discovered that the Essex defense had gotten a second wind. He
was hit at the line for no gain by a husky linebacker, and the tackle was
nothing he wanted to remember! But Erik got things moving with a pass on
the next play, and after that PJ was able to get four yards for the first
down. They moved slowly down the field with Essex grudgingly giving up
yardage. Erik tried another option sweep, but the defense had seen it
enough times to know what was happening. PJ barely got the ball around the
end before a tackle sent him reeling out-of-bounds.

       The breakthrough of the drive came on another run up the middle. PJ
had an inkling that something good was about to happen because on several
of the previous plays, he'd sensed a weakening of the defense. Now when he
took Erik's handoff and followed Dustin into the line, everything seemed to
give way. He shot through a hole Dustin had opened off-tackle, avoided the
linebacker his teammate's block had slammed out of the way, and exploded
into the secondary with nothing but green turf ahead. He knew immediately
that he could net a big gain, so using all his strength, he accelerated to
a full sprint down the field. The defensive backs desperately converged and
by luck were in position to force him toward the sideline where a pair of
them rode him out-of-bounds again. But he'd gained over thirty-five yards
and the ball now rested on the twelve-yard line.

       The Gordonsville stands were cheering wildly. PJ heard more air
horns blasting. In the huddle, Erik looked at him with a grin. "Nice one,
PJ."

       PJ patted Dustin's shoulder pads. "His blocks were what did it!"

       Dustin smiled and said, "Call it again, Erik. I'll blow a hole open
that'll get PJ into the end zone this time."

       "Lemme have a shot first," Erik told him with a twinkle in his eye.

       He called a pass and drifted to his left after the snap, while
Dustin and PJ surrounded him in a moving pocket. The defense thought they
had everything well covered, but they forgot how mobile Erik was. With all
of his receivers blanketed, he took off running. PJ flattened the only boy
who could have tackled him, allowing his roommate to jog into the end zone
without being touched! The Gordonsville stands erupted in cheers! PJ jumped
on Erik, pounding his shoulder pads while yelling, "Yee-eooo-ww! Way to
go!"

       Erik grinned happily. "This is more like it," he told PJ and
Dustin. "You guys do all the nasty work of pushing people out of the way,
and I walk into the end zone. That's the right way to treat your
quarterback!"

       "You're the greatest, Erik," PJ told his friend. They ran together
to the sidelines with cheering and air horn blasts filling the air. Phil
and Brian were waiting to congratulate them, along with all their
teammates. Up in the stands, Bill was waving, and PJ saw Billy jumping up
and down. The extra point was good. Gordonsville was out in front, 20-3!

       Essex was not about to give up, though. On their next possession,
they pulled off a drive of their own that was triggered by a freak
play. The Gordonsville defense was doing its job, keeping them contained,
when Nate broke into the Essex offensive backfield and caused the
quarterback to fumble his handoff. In the ensuing scramble for the ball,
another Essex player managed to pick it up, escape from the confusion, and
run over thirty yards before a touchdown-saving tackle brought him down. A
frustrated Nate tried to rally the defense for another stop, but the Essex
players were all fired up. Their quarterback completed one of his rare long
passes, which brought the ball down inside the five. From there, one of
their running backs took it into the end zone. The Top Floor Gang watched
from the sideline as the Essex kicker got the extra point to make the score
Gordonsville 20, Essex 10.

       PJ received the ball on the kickoff that followed. The
straight-ahead kick was a beauty, booming all the way to the Gordonsville
ten-yard line. PJ took a look at the defenders coming down on him and moved
as if he was going to run up behind his blockers. But as soon as he saw the
Essex players start to commit, he cut suddenly across the field, crossed in
front of oncoming tacklers, saw a hole near the sideline, and accelerated
up the field. He was almost over the fifty-yard line before the kicker, the
last player between him and pay dirt, rode him over the sideline.

       When the same boy helped him get up, PJ gave him a grin. "Thanks. I
was hoping I could get by you. Hey, you're really blasting those
kicks. Nice going."

       "Thanks." The Essex kicker responded with a smile. "I just learned
how to do this a year ago. And I never played soccer, so I went with the
old-fashioned straight style."

       "Well, you're good," PJ said. "We have a kicker just like you. And
you're a good tackler, too!"

       "You probably don't remember me," the boy told him, "but I remember
you from baseball. We all remember that home run you got!"

       An official came up to get the ball and the boy told PJ, "Let's talk
after the game."

       "Definitely," PJ said. They waved to each other and trotted back to
their teams.

       The game clock showed just under two minutes left to go in the first
half. Erik hastily organized his offense, clapping his hands and telling
them, "Let's get another score to take with us into the locker room. We'll
use our regular two-minute drill, so stay sharp, you receivers. And you
backs, either get out-of-bounds or else hustle right back for a quick
snap. PJ gave us a good opportunity with this runback, guys. Let's take
advantage!"

       With a few short passes to the sidelines, Erik got them moving and
followed up by calling a succession of running plays. PJ twisted, spun, and
bucked for yardage, getting one first down and close to another. Erik
stopped the clock with a timeout and nudged PJ in the huddle as he barked
out the code phrase, "Tap-Dance-Six, Tap-Dance-Six!" It was the signal for
PJ to become a receiver.

       On the snap, PJ slipped through the line into the flat. Erik's pass
came right on target. Catching it on the run, he charged up the middle
through the secondary, accelerating quickly. When a defender angled in from
the side, PJ straight-armed the kid, spun out of the arms of another, and
was just beginning to speed forward again when he was hit from behind and
brought down hard! He saw stars for a moment but kept tight hold of the
ball, and as he got to his feet, he saw they were already inside the ten!
When he trotted back to the huddle, Erik slapped him in the shoulder and
exclaimed, "Good one, PJ! Ready to go again?"

       PJ nodded.

       "Make sure you get out–of-bounds if you can't make the end zone,"
Erik warned. He gave the signals for a sweep.
       PJ's head still felt a little fuzzy when he broke from the huddle,
but he lined up feeling pretty confident. After all, they had the defense
rocked back on their heels! He was sure of it. On the snap, Erik spun, held
up the ball, and PJ took it, streaking away out to the side. He barely
avoided an Essex defender who'd slipped Dustin's block and momentarily got
a hand on him. An instant later he'd dodged around the end and turned
upfield. He charged forward, breaking loose from more clutching hands. When
a cornerback tried to tackle him, he whirled, cut across field, and sped
into the end zone! When he lifted the ball up over his head in a victory
salute, the Gordonsville stands responded with cheers.

       "Yeee-000-ww-iii-eee!" Erik jumped on him and hugged him, pounding
his back. "That's the way to bust through 'em, PJ!" He put an arm over PJ's
shoulders as they ran together to the sidelines. Tommy's kick for an extra
point missed, but Gordonsville had now increased its lead to 26-10!

       With only seconds to go on the clock, Kip squiffed the kickoff to
prevent a runback, and the defense held Essex until the first-half time ran
out. "Come on, PJ, let's get some Gatorade," Erik said, grabbing him. He,
Phil, and Brian all waved to their dads as they left the field. PJ waved to
Billy. When the little boy grinned and happily returned an "OK" sign, PJ's
heart went out to him. He was glad that someone special was there to cheer
for him.

       That made him think of Jack, and suddenly, all of his longing and
fears and confusion, suppressed during the action of the game, returned to
his head. With thoughts swirling around, he stopped behind the bleachers to
collect himself. Erik noticed and glanced back in concern, but PJ waved for
him to go on without him. "I'll be there in a minute. I've just got some
thinkin' to do. "

       It was as good an excuse as any. He knew Erik was worried, but was
guessing instinctively that his roommate needed some private time. Erik
gave an understanding nod and continued on toward the locker room.

       To steady himself, PJ grasped on to an aluminum stanchion of the
bleachers. He was still two boys in one, and the problem was that the other
PJ was in his head again telling him that nothing mattered. "But it does!
It does!" he insisted to himself. His friends did matter! This game was
important! Erik, his best friend, wanted a Championship. PJ was determined
to help him get it!

       "An' then I'm gonna find Jack," he whispered. "Jack needs me. He
wants a Championship too! Together, we're gonna break the Curse, an' I'll
help him win the Series! Then I'm gonna bring him to Homecoming, an'
everything will be alright again, an' . . ."

       "None a' that's real," the voice interrupted, but PJ wasn't going to
listen. Clenching his fists, he commanded, "Go away, go away . . . go
away!"

       Once the voice was silent, he turned toward the Field House. Erik
would have Gatorade waiting for him. He followed, to the locker room, the
footsteps of his teammates.  Chapter Seventy-Seven: Young Guns

       PJ started the second half by running the kickoff back for a
touchdown.

       Part of it was luck. The Essex straight-ahead kicker got off a long
one, but it was low and hard, without enough hang time to allow tacklers to
get down the field very far before PJ caught the ball. He took it on his
own eight and accelerated quickly. When the oncoming defenders made the
mistake of over-committing themselves, PJ cut from behind his blockers and
angled across towards Dustin, slipping in behind him. Both pounded rapidly
upfield. Dustin threw a final key block, and PJ hurtled past, racing down
the sideline with the realization that he was going all the way. A final
sprint took him into the end zone, the ball held high over his head! He
dropped quickly to one knee and grasped Erik's Bhatt chain. "For you,
Jack," he whispered.

       As he trotted to the sideline where Brian and Phil and the others
waited for him, the Gordonsville stands began to chant, "Pee-Jay
. . . Pee-Jay . . . Pee-Jay . . . Pee-Jay . . ." Erik was slapping him on
the back and shoulder pads. PJ hugged Dustin and yelled over the noise,
"Thanks for that block, Buddy. Yours was the play. All I had to do was run
fast."

       Dustin hugged back delightedly. "Hey! That's what fullbacks do,
right?"

       "Oh, yeah!" PJ gleefully responded.

       This time the Gordonsville kicker made the extra point and the score
went to 33-10.

       "This is starting to get one-sided," Erik told them. He went to talk
to Coach Lewis, and when he came back, he was smiling from ear to
ear. "You're goin' in on offense," he told Brian, "`an you're playing
defense," he told Phil. "Just don't get hurt out there!"

        PJ leaned close to Erik and muttered, "If Coach starts putting all
our subs in, the score's gonna change pretty fast."

       But Erik seemed unfazed. "Don't worry," he whispered back. "I'll
keep us in the game."

       Essex did, in fact, do better as the Gordonsville coach shuffled
assignments to give substitute players needed experience. A long,
time-consuming drive finally resulted in an Essex score, but only after the
defense had put up a tough fight.

       Phil had now entered full-time at a cornerback position, and PJ was
proud to see how well he did against the bigger opponents he had to
face. "All that practice he does with us is paying off," Erik declared
approvingly. "He just better not get hurt, that's all." To which Brian
couldn't resist adding, "If any of those big kids hurt my roommate, I'm
goin' out there and break somebody's leg. But I think he'll be OK. Phil's
better than anybody thinks he is. Wait 'til he gets a chance to show what
he can do!" PJ said nothing, but he was thinking, He's gonna get that
chance. I'm sure of it. I've got this feeling. . .

       Essex's good straightaway kicker made the extra point, and his team
crept closer, 33-17.

       Philip trotted over to his friends on the sideline, shaking his
head. "We should'a stopped `em," he said disgustedly. "I let `em get by me
on that one pass."

       "Geez, Phil," Erik gave the younger boy a playful smack. "That kid
is a foot taller than you and about twice as heavy. You're doing great out
there."

       "You're doing just fine, Phil," PJ assured him. "Just stay with
it. You guys really made them work for that score. Look at all the time
they used up."

       Brian put an arm around his roommate's shoulder. "Yeah," he said,
"an' you're way faster than those kids you're covering. You stick around
and I bet you get an interception. That quarterback can't throw too good."

       Coach Lewis had shuffled the personnel of the special teams along
with everything else, so PJ stood with his friends on the sideline watching
Dustin and another boy named Shelby handle the kick-return chores. After a
short runback to the twenty-eight, Erik led the offense onto the field,
with Brian included as one of the wide receivers.

       "Try not to look too good at first," Erik quietly told him.

       They used a few running plays to get started. Erik handed off to
Dustin for a quick plunge, followed by a PJ carry around the left side to
get first-down yardage. Meanwhile, at his wide-receiver position, Brian was
pretending to be slow and uncertain of his assignment. Both plays were
intentionally executed away from his side of the line.

       "Ready?" Erik asked Brian in the huddle. When the youngster nodded
back, Erik gave him the play call for a reverse. PJ lined up tingling with
anticipation. They'd practiced this play many times in Billy's backyard. It
was one of his favorites. Someone's gonna be surprised! he mused.

       Erik stepped up to the line and bawled out his cadence. "Hu-ut, Hut
. . . Hut, Hut!" On the snap, he spun and handed off to PJ, who cut
immediately to his right. The defense bit on it perfectly. They'd been
having trouble containing him on the sweep all afternoon, so every boy on
the Essex defensive unit, keying on PJ, followed him across the field. With
a deft movement on the side of his body away from them, PJ handed off to
Brian who was coming around in the opposite direction. The youngster tucked
the ball away and scampered off to the left side, while PJ put his head
down and faked into the right corner, trying to draw as many defenders to
himself as he could. He decided that he might have been a little too
successful when what felt like the entire eleven-man defensive unit landed
on top of him. Then he heard cheering and knew that Brian was on his
way. The defenders who had tackled him scrambled up frantically as they
tried to get back into the play. But it was far too late. PJ got to his
feet to see what'd happened. There was a pile of bodies much farther down
the field, from the bottom of which Brian finally emerged, grinning. PJ
trotted over to where Erik was slapping the younger boy on his
pads. "Twenty-six yards," he told PJ. "Not bad. We're already on their
thirty!"

       "Way to go, Brian!" PJ exclaimed with a big smile.

       "If I could dance around like PJ does," Brian declared excitedly,
"I'd be in the end zone! Boy, did we catch those guys goin' the wrong way!"

       "Let's burn 'em again," Erik said with an evil grin.

       In the huddle he called for a pass using Brian's number as the prime
receiver. He preceded the call with the code for PJ to be a second receiver
out of the backfield. PJ smiled at him and nodded. On the snap, he charged
quickly through the line and looked for Erik's pass just in case his friend
actually had to dump off to him. This was so convincing that the defense,
which was keying on him anyway, was certain that this time the ball was
coming to him. The secondary started to converge, except for the player
guarding Brian. But Brian already had him beat. Erik floated a nice little
pass right into his hands. An Essex safety had to make a spectacular play
to save a touchdown by racing over for a last-second tackle on the one-yard
line.

       "Crud!" Brian complained as he joined the huddle. "I got robbed!"

       Erik grinned, gave him a pat on his butt, and in the huddle called
PJ's number for a quick slant off-tackle.

       The other team's defenders were shouting to one another and pointing
at PJ as they lined up. Erik used a long count to see if they would jump
offsides, but the frustrated Essex players held themselves back. At last
the ball was snapped. PJ took the handoff and saw immediately that the hole
up the middle was jammed by a linebacker. Using the strength in his lower
body plus his agility, he cut to his left and plunged into a narrow seam
between the heaving linemen. Hands grabbed at him as he slipped through. He
lifted his knees, drove with his legs as hard as he could, and burst into
the end zone, defenders hanging off him as they all rolled to the
ground. The officials signaled a touchdown! He bounced back quickly to his
feet, holding up the ball so the cheering Gordonsville fans could see
it. They responded by chanting, "Pee-Jay . . . Pee-Jay . . . Pee-Jay . . ."
Erik, Brian, and the rest of his teammates celebrated with them and
escorted him to the sideline.

       Together they watched Tommy's back-up, the Gordonsville
second-string soccer-style kicker, try for the extra point. Since he'd just
entered the game, he was obviously very nervous. He missed. Still, the
score was 39-17, their favor.

       Although it was pretty clear now that Gordonsville would win,
substitutions made the rest of the game close. In fact, nearly too
close. The fourth quarter opened with another Essex drive. The
second-string Gordonsville defense was able to stop them short of a
touchdown, but their talented kicker put the ball through the uprights for
a field goal, making the score 39-20.

       When Erik led the offense out and tried to respond, he had mixed
success. Substitutions had weakened the line, plus Coach Lewis had also
instructed Erik to rest both PJ and Jacob so either Dustin or Sandy could
get the running plays. Under these constraints, the offense stuttered and
staggered down the field, with only some timely passes to Brian saving a
couple of third-down situations. Indeed, Erik was finding it difficult to
pass because the defense had learned that Brian needed to be as closely
watched as PJ, plus the smaller substitutes in the offensive line could not
pass-block as well as the heavier first string. Quite understandably, Erik
had a few choice words for them in the huddle after he was sacked on one
play.

       They ended up stuck on the other team's fifteen-yard line in a
third-and-eight situation. Coach Lewis had been rotating PJ with Sandy at
tailback, and now he sent PJ back in to improve their chances of scoring
again. Erik immediately called the sweep with his number. Though PJ did his
best, one of Gordonsville's second-string lineman was unable to block his
man. PJ was hit in the backfield just as he was starting to move to the
outside. He spun clear, but the hit slowed him down. By the time he got
around the end, the defense was waiting for him. He lowered his shoulder
and charged ahead, punishing the players that were trying to tackle him and
got close to the first down, but when the officials measured with the
chains, the nose of the ball was still short by inches. Worse for him, for
the first time in the game, PJ's hip started to ache from his old injury.

       "Field-goal time," Erik said. He could see Coach Lewis on the
sideline sending in Kip and the second-string special team. The kicking
game hadn't been going well for Gordonsville, and it didn't get any better
on that attempt. PJ watched from the sideline in dismay as the other team
overpowered the substitute line, got in quickly, and blocked Kip's kick. An
Essex player ran after the ball, scooped it up, and took off down the field
before anyone could get to him. Erik chased after the boy as best he could,
but there was no way he could catch up. The touchdown and extra point
delivered by their expert kicker got moved them to within twelve points:
39-27.

       Erik and PJ both went to console Kip, who was pacing around in
frustration, pounding a palm with his fist. "No way that should'a
happened," he told them. "No way!"

       "Not your fault," Erik said, giving his shoulder a nudge.

       "Yeah, that wasn't you," PJ added. "That was a screw-up on the
line."

       "Listen," Erik said, "the lineman who messed up is a sub. You know
he doesn't feel good about what happened. Maybe you could talk to him. You
know--like tell him that you know he did his best, and the next time, for
sure, you'll make that kick."

       Kip stared at him. After a moment, he said, "You know what? You're
right." He strode off, looking for the substitute lineman. As PJ watched,
him go, he held out a fist for Erik to tap.
       .
       Going out on the field after the Essex kickoff, PJ and the offensive
unit found a re-energized, fired-up defense waiting for them, a group
determined to try for another turnover or whatever else they could get. To
offset the threat, Erik made more conservative play calls. He kept the ball
on the ground, using as much time as he could, and tried to avoid giving
the defense any chance for a big play. PJ with Jacob and Sandy with Dustin
were able to get two first downs for him, even with the weakened line. But
they were finally stopped just over midfield and forced to bring Tommy back
in to punt.

       "Geez, let's not have anything stupid happen on this," Erik muttered
as he and PJ watched, fearful of another kicking mishap. But Tommy
delivered the goods, executing a beautiful kick which pushed the Essex
receiver back to his five-yard line. There, he was tackled before he could
return the ball past their ten.

       "OK, Phil," Erik growled as the younger boy prepared to go in on
defense, "you guys kick some ass, smash `em, an' shut `em down!"

       PJ remembered from his experience against their team in baseball
that Essex Academy was very competitive. He saw more proof of it now. All
through the game, despite Gordonsville's domination, they had refused to
give up. Now they drove down the field again, still determined to score and
give themselves a chance to win. Phil and the rest of the defense put them
in tough third-down situations several times, but somehow the Essex
quarterback, despite his sometimes errant passes, always found a way to get
a first down. "That kid has guts," Erik said as he and PJ watched the
quarterback scramble desperately and get hit by two Gordonsville tacklers.

       Phil came within a fingertip of getting an interception. Essex had
just moved into Gordonsville territory when they tried a pass to his
side. The ball was underthrown and Phil had it played perfectly. The
intended receiver, a foot taller than his younger opponent, was forced to
become a defender himself and bat it away from Phil's outstretched hands.

       "Ah, Geez! That was so close!" Brian exclaimed.

       "Yeah," PJ agreed, "but he sure played that well!"

       Slowly, giving up yardage grudgingly, the defense yielded before the
Essex attack. With the clock running and the minutes of the last quarter
ticking off, a desperate effort by the offense finally pushed the ball into
the end zone on a quarterback sneak. The extra point was good. The score
was now 39-34! With true heroic spirit, Essex had brought themselves within
striking distance of a comeback win. And there were still almost three
minutes left in the game!

       They nearly pulled it off. Their excellent kicker gave them a
perfectly-executed onside boot that the Gordonsville receiving team
mishandled. The upfront players bobbled the football. A scrum broke out as
both teams fought for possession. Suddenly Essex emerged with the ball on
the Gordonsville thirty-seven!

       Groans arose from the home stands. A huge roar of cheering burst
from the Essex sideline. Erik ran over to Coach Lewis and asked him
something. The young coach shook his head. Erik looked grim when he came
back to PJ and Brian. "He won't put all the first string back in. He says
it's the second string's game right now."

       "He's right," PJ told Erik quietly. That's only fair."

       "PJ, we have to win this game!" Erik protested. "The Championship
. . ."

       "It has to be a Championship for the whole team," PJ
interrupted. "Not just the first string."

       Brian laid a hand on Erik's arm. "Don't worry, Erik. Phil's going to
do his best. Give him a chance."

       Erik glanced agonizingly at the action on the field before turning
back to face PJ and Brian. "You guys are right," he groaned. "You're right
. . . but, Geez!"

       It was Phil who made the big play. He'd been covering his defensive
back position doggedly despite being outmatched by bigger, older
opponents. Now, with a minute left in the game, that determination finally
got him the opportunity he wanted. Another underthrown pass came wobbling
out of the Essex backfield. One time too many! Like a small, hungry shark,
Phil was poised, ready to strike. In a flash of movement he intercepted the
ball, snatching it away from the intended Essex receiver, who was too
surprised to even attempt interference!

       The Gordonsville bleachers erupted in excited cheers. Phil, already
at full speed, tucked the ball under his arm and scampered upfield while
players in Essex jerseys converged on him from all sides.

       "Oh shit!" Erik swore. He covered his eyes.

       "It's all right!" PJ told him excitedly, pulling at his hands, "It's
all right! He got pushed out of bounds. He's OK!"

       Next to him, Brian was going crazy, jumping up and down and whooping
like a wild Indian.

       Phil was engulfed by happy, cheering teammates. Whereas the Essex
crowd was hushed in shock, the spectators in the Gordonsville bleachers
were yelling, clapping hands, blowing air horns. The young boy pushed his
way over to his three friends, a huge smile on his face. His eyes sparkled
with delight as he high-fived Brian and looked up at Erik and PJ. "I got
it!" he shouted happily. "I got it! Just like you said I would. That was
good, wasn't it?"

       "Good?" PJ smiled and hugged him. "I'll say it was good! You almost
damn near scored!"

       Brian hugged him too, and Erik pounded him on the back, yelling,
"Way ta' go, Phil! Way ta' go!" He turned to grin at PJ. "This is special!
We gotta do it! Wait here, guys. I'll be right back!"

       He left their little group momentarily and ran to Coach Lewis
again. When he returned, he was grinning with excitement. "Come on, you
two!" he told Brian and Phil. "This is it! You're goin' in with me an' PJ!
The Top Floor Gang is goin' in on offense!"

       The two younger boys stared wide-eyed, barely containing themselves,
but before they could say anything Erik had an arm around Phil and a hand
on Brian's shoulder. "Take deep breaths. Settle down. There's still time
left in this game. Time to show Coach what you guys have got. Time for one
of our special plays. PJ . . ." He turned to his roommate. "You're playing
fullback. Brian, I want you to line up wide left. And Phil, you're going in
as my tailback. I'll get the ball to you! Remember now, if Brian's open,
throw him the pass. By gosh, we're gonna shoot for another touchdown! But
if the play isn't there, run out-of-bounds.  No heroics!"

       "It's Young Guns?" Brian asked breathlessly. There was no concealing
his excitement!

       "You bet!" Erik exclaimed. "Young Guns! Come on, gang! Let's rock 'n
roll!"

       He led the way onto the field as the Gordonsville crowd cheered and
blew more air horn blasts. Out in the huddle, the second-stringers all
looked at him for guidance. "Let us play. Erik," Shelby pleaded. "We do'an
wanna just run out the clock."

       "Yeah!" Big Bucky, Cuylers's substitute at center happily growled,
"Let's get down and dirty!"

       Erik winked at him and grinned. "Hell yes! Are you guys ready for
some football?"

       "Yeah, yeah, yeah." That murmur went around the huddle. Next to PJ,
Barry, a thirteen-year-old right tackle who would never be good enough for
first string but who loved to play, smacked one fist into a palm. PJ could
almost see Erik's fierce enthusiasm arc like electricity across the group,
charging them with his energy! He can do things like this, PJ thought. My
roomie's awesome. A thrill swept through him.

       "Fasten your seatbelts!" Erik's eyes flashed as he looked around the
huddle again. "It's show time!" PJ, Brian, and Phil were on either side of
him. The Top Floor Gang, together at last on offense! And now, for the
first time in a real game, Erik had sounded the call!

        "Young-Guns-Three, Young-Guns-Three! Dog-Patch-21, Dog-Patch-21! On
three. Break!"

       The clap, as they broke the huddle, came as one crisp sound. PJ's
heart was pounding as he lined up in the fullback position. He'd long since
forgotten about any aches and pains. What a finish to the game! The heck
with being conservative and running out the clock! Essex had been a great
opponent. They had battled all afternoon and never given up. Now Erik was
going to pay tribute to that effort by challenging them with one last
spectacular play. And he was going to do it with their youngest,
inexperienced players--his Young Guns. It was giving Essex a final chance,
a fair chance, to make a great defensive play and win the game--win the
game, that is, if they could. PJ shivered with anticipation as Erik began
his cadence. Win or lose, this was the right thing to do.

       "Hu-uut, Hu-uut!" Erik yelled. "Hut!"

       The ball was snapped. The lines heaved together. With ballet-like
precision honed by hours of practice in Billy's backyard, so fast the eye
could barely follow it, the Top Floor Gang's ultimate secret play unfolded!
Erik whirled, flicking a short pitch to Phil who was already sprinting to
his left, PJ out ahead of him as his lead blocker. The ball exchange was
partially screened by Erik's body so that when he completed the fake by
cutting to his right, he appeared to be still in possession of the ball and
rolling out to pass. At least a few Essex defenders were fooled, but a more
alert linebacker yelled, "Sweep left!" Already he was moving laterally to
cut off Phil's run around the end.

       No one in the defense had grasped the fact that Phil was
left-handed. Probably none of them had ever defended against a left-handed
passer. Every Essex player assumed Phil would keep the ball. They moved up
to stop him, even the corners and safeties in the secondary. Brian, all
alone out in the flat as a receiver, sprinted into the clear!

       Sudden shock overcame the defense when they saw Phil's arm cock
back! Far too late, the linebacker on Phil's side screamed "Pass!" PJ
flattened the only Essex player who might have disrupted the play, a
lineman who slipped past a block into the backfield. But even he wouldn't
have been in time because Phil had already made his move. Throwing on the
run in the effortless way that made his left-handed passing so deceptive,
he launched the ball into the air, arcing it in a perfect spiral over the
heads of the scrambling defenders. Brian was hurtling at full speed
downfield, and the football dropped cleanly into his outstretched hands!
There was never any doubt of the outcome once he'd caught it! No one was
close. With a final burst, Brian ran into the end zone, holding the ball up
in the air just the way PJ usually did! The Young Guns had done their
thing!

       That play took everyone by surprise--fans, players,
coaches--everyone! There was a moment of stunned shock as people tried to
understand what'd happened. Then the field, the sidelines, the stands all
erupted in pandemonium! Erik, Phil, PJ, and the rest of the Gordonsville
offense raced to the end zone to congratulate Brian. PJ and Erik escorted
Brian and Phil off the field in triumph to be mobbed by their teammates on
the sideline. PJ looked up into the cheering stands and saw Billy's dad
holding Billy in the air with the young boy hollering, whooping, and waving
both arms.

       This time Tommy went out and triumphantly booted the extra point to
make the final score 46-34. Kip's kickoff afterwards was a mere
formality. Essex ran it back to the forty, time expired, and the game was
over.

       The Gordonsville fans stormed the field. PJ got separated from his
friends in the wild celebration. He looked around and finally saw Bill
standing there with his arm around Erik, smiling down at him. Behind them,
Phil was getting a huge hug from his dad, who looked as if he was about to
burst with pride. Brian was talking excitedly with his own father, who was
kneeling beside him with his arm around his son's waist. PJ couldn't help
himself. His emotions became a confused blending of elation, envy, and
longing.

       He was just turning away when a small form cannoned into him and
clung tightly. "PJ"! You were great!" Billy shouted.

       Laughing and suddenly transformed back into a happy mood despite
himself, PJ picked up the younger boy and patted him on the back. "Thanks,"
Billy. I heard you cheering. It kept me going!"

       "Good!" the smaller boy said with delight. "I was louder than
anybody!"

	"Come on." PJ put him down on his feet. "Come with me. I wanna
introduce you to some good guys I know." Together, they headed over to the
Essex sideline.

     CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT FORTY-ONE

     Editor Paul Scott's e-mail address: paulkdoctor@gmail.com