on and darted out onto the field, raising his hand like he was in school.
"I can go in, Coach," he said to Jamie's dad as he buckled up his chinstrap. "I'm ready."
"You're ready, huh?" Coach Renfro said with an angry scowl. "You weren't ready when practice started. You weren't even here."
The Knights' coach looked from Troy to Coach Renfro and said, "Come on, Coach. My guys need the work."
Jamie's dad turned his attention back to Jamie and waved his hand in disgust. "Go, then."
Troy couldn't even feel his feet underneath him. The only other times he'd gotten to run the offense, even in practice, was with the other second-string players, kids who didn't know the plays, or couldn't run or catch, or who stood straight up on the snap of the ball and got knocked over by the defense. Now he'd be with the best athletes their team had. It made a huge difference.
This was his chance.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SUN WAS ALREADY below the trees and the grass had begun to cool. Troy knew he didn't have much time, so he stepped into the huddle, clapped his hands three times, and said, "Let's go." Nathan, who was the first-string left tackle, extended his hand across the huddle. Troy grinned and shook it, then looked to the sideline, where one of the assistant coaches gave the signal for the offensive play.
It was a simple running play up the middle. Troy called it, broke the huddle, and followed his team to the line. As he put his hands up underneath the center to take the snap, he saw the defense. The linebackers and the strong safety were crowding the line. He knew a run up the middle was the worst thing to do against a defense like that, but he had to show the coach he could do as he was told. He barked out the cadence.
"Down, set, hut one, hut two."
The ball was snapped into his hands. He spun deftly and handed it off to the fullback.
No gain.
The Knights' defense cheered and slapped each other on the back. Troy went back to the huddle with his team. When the assistant coach signaled in another running play, Troy shook his head and gritted his teeth, but did as he was told. He took the snap and handed it off again. Again, the Tigers' runner was thumped right at the line.
It was third down now. On the sideline, Jamie was sitting on the bench with his shoulder pads off, sipping from a bottle of water. Coach Renfro was back now, and he signaled in the next play, another run up the middle. Troy made an appealing gesture, silently begging for something that would help them get the ten yards they needed for a first down. Coach Renfro just stared at him with a frown and folded his arms across his chest.
Troy joined the huddle and knelt down so he could look up into the faces of his teammates.
"They're whipping our butts," Troy said. "Did you hear them laughing? Bust them in the mouth. Give me four seconds and we'll score. Four seconds--can you do it?"
"Yes," Nathan said.
The others blinked and nodded.
Troy turned to Rusty Howell, their skinny wide receiver who was as quick as a hiccup and had the best hands on the team.
"Okay, Rusty," Troy said, "it's on you. Red Right, Thirty-one Dive Play Pass, Zebra Post, on one. Ready--"
"Break!"
Even Troy was surprised at how easily the words for the complex play spilled from his mouth. He jogged to the line, afraid that Coach Renfro would somehow know what he'd done and stop him before he could run the play. He put his hands up under the center and began to call out the snap count, forcing the defense to get into their positions. The free safety, who was the last defender in the middle of the field, drifted deep. He'd be in perfect position to cover Rusty when he ran deep and bent in toward the middle on the Zebra Post. Troy wished there were a way he could change the play. He made a quick hand motion for Rusty to break out toward the sideline instead. But Rusty's eyes were glued to the cornerback in front of him.
It happened in seconds. Troy finished barking out the count, took the
"I can go in, Coach," he said to Jamie's dad as he buckled up his chinstrap. "I'm ready."
"You're ready, huh?" Coach Renfro said with an angry scowl. "You weren't ready when practice started. You weren't even here."
The Knights' coach looked from Troy to Coach Renfro and said, "Come on, Coach. My guys need the work."
Jamie's dad turned his attention back to Jamie and waved his hand in disgust. "Go, then."
Troy couldn't even feel his feet underneath him. The only other times he'd gotten to run the offense, even in practice, was with the other second-string players, kids who didn't know the plays, or couldn't run or catch, or who stood straight up on the snap of the ball and got knocked over by the defense. Now he'd be with the best athletes their team had. It made a huge difference.
This was his chance.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SUN WAS ALREADY below the trees and the grass had begun to cool. Troy knew he didn't have much time, so he stepped into the huddle, clapped his hands three times, and said, "Let's go." Nathan, who was the first-string left tackle, extended his hand across the huddle. Troy grinned and shook it, then looked to the sideline, where one of the assistant coaches gave the signal for the offensive play.
It was a simple running play up the middle. Troy called it, broke the huddle, and followed his team to the line. As he put his hands up underneath the center to take the snap, he saw the defense. The linebackers and the strong safety were crowding the line. He knew a run up the middle was the worst thing to do against a defense like that, but he had to show the coach he could do as he was told. He barked out the cadence.
"Down, set, hut one, hut two."
The ball was snapped into his hands. He spun deftly and handed it off to the fullback.
No gain.
The Knights' defense cheered and slapped each other on the back. Troy went back to the huddle with his team. When the assistant coach signaled in another running play, Troy shook his head and gritted his teeth, but did as he was told. He took the snap and handed it off again. Again, the Tigers' runner was thumped right at the line.
It was third down now. On the sideline, Jamie was sitting on the bench with his shoulder pads off, sipping from a bottle of water. Coach Renfro was back now, and he signaled in the next play, another run up the middle. Troy made an appealing gesture, silently begging for something that would help them get the ten yards they needed for a first down. Coach Renfro just stared at him with a frown and folded his arms across his chest.
Troy joined the huddle and knelt down so he could look up into the faces of his teammates.
"They're whipping our butts," Troy said. "Did you hear them laughing? Bust them in the mouth. Give me four seconds and we'll score. Four seconds--can you do it?"
"Yes," Nathan said.
The others blinked and nodded.
Troy turned to Rusty Howell, their skinny wide receiver who was as quick as a hiccup and had the best hands on the team.
"Okay, Rusty," Troy said, "it's on you. Red Right, Thirty-one Dive Play Pass, Zebra Post, on one. Ready--"
"Break!"
Even Troy was surprised at how easily the words for the complex play spilled from his mouth. He jogged to the line, afraid that Coach Renfro would somehow know what he'd done and stop him before he could run the play. He put his hands up under the center and began to call out the snap count, forcing the defense to get into their positions. The free safety, who was the last defender in the middle of the field, drifted deep. He'd be in perfect position to cover Rusty when he ran deep and bent in toward the middle on the Zebra Post. Troy wished there were a way he could change the play. He made a quick hand motion for Rusty to break out toward the sideline instead. But Rusty's eyes were glued to the cornerback in front of him.
It happened in seconds. Troy finished barking out the count, took the
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