Pop by Gordon Korman

that was no friendly straight-arm. That was a genuine get-out-of-my-face . A few seconds later he was the same old Charlie, but at that moment he’d been a stranger—and not a very pleasant one at that.
    Charlie Popovich—why did that name sound familiar? Football familiar…
    Chelsea’s words came back to him: You have no clue who you’re dealing with .
    Maybe it was time to get a clue.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    G oogle churned up more than 46,000 hits on the keywords Charlie Popovich .
    Marcus sat forward in his desk chair. After the hours he’d spent wondering about the mysterious Charlie, he’d never expected the guy’s life story to be so easy to find. Eagerly, he clicked on the top link.
    It was an article from the sports section of the Cincinnati Inquirer of February 18, 1991:
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    BENGALS’ “KING OF POP” HANGS UP CLEATS
    Charlie Popovich has informed the Cincinnati Bengals organization of his retirement at age 36 after fourteen seasons, seven of those with the Bengals. The six-foot-three, 235-pound linebacker was credited with 1,097 career tackles, including 754 solo stops, 22.5 sacks, and seven interceptions.
    Originally selected by the San Diego Chargers in the 1977 NFL draft, the King of Pop soon became known throughout the league as a tenacious defender with a relish for intense physical contact. At the same time, Popovich developed a reputation both in San Diego and Cincinnati as a locker-room prankster, making him beloved and often feared by teammates and coaches alike....
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    Marcus exhaled sharply and realized he’d been holding his breath. Unbelievable. For the past three weeks, he’d been bashing heads with a former NFL linebacker! The King of Pop! Not a superstar, exactly, but a solid player with a fourteen-year career.
    I should have known , Marcus thought. No wonder Charlie was still such an athletic force. No wonder he could dish out hits like cluster bombs, even at his age. Marcus did the math. The veteran was in his mid-fifties by now. This also explained why Charlie had so much free time in the middle of the day. He wasn’t unemployed; he was retired . And probably pretty flush, too. The money in pro sports wasn’t as huge as it was today, but even in the seventies and eighties, NFL players were pretty well paid.
    Enough to splurge for half a car window, that’s for sure .
    Marcus browsed through the other links. Most were just game coverage, with the occasional mention of a play Charlie had been involved in. There were a few articles about charity work he’d done in San Diego and Cincinnati, as well as a Sports Illustrated piece: “Rookies to Watch in 1977.” Marcus drank it all in, mesmerized. Charlie had never made a Pro Bowl, but he had started for most of his fourteen seasons and had always found a way to be an impact player.
    There was a picture of him in action, circa 1983. He was in full flight, his body parallel to the turf, tackling Joe Theismann of the Washington Redskins. The impact of the collision had knocked Charlie’s helmet clean off. The photograph captured it in midair two feet behind him, revealing a face Marcus would have recognized anywhere. Charlie was younger, the tousled hair black instead of salt and pepper, but the sharp eyes and laser-focus concentration were unmistakable. The guy might have aged a quarter century, but his love of competition hadn’t faded one bit.
    Sometimes you actually hear it go pop ! There was little question that the tackle in the photograph had been one of those times. Marcus heard it, too, and felt the devastating collision he’d experienced so many times in his encounters with Charlie.
    He closed the computer’s browser and leaned back in his chair. All this time he’d been training one-on-one with a real NFL veteran, and he’d been too clueless to know it. He couldn’t wait to get back to Three Alarm Park—to get hit again like Joe Theismann