Raiders Night by Robert Lipsyte Page B

couple of them would reappear at lights-out to take a head count.
    There were always stories of guys on past teams who had girls waiting in cars on the other side of the woods, but they were probably just stories. Too tired. The Back Pack had trouble concentrating on its poker games in the double Brody and Pete shared. The games broke up early.
    Pete had followed Matt out of the room on the third night. “Maybe you should call Mandy.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œLisa says she’s really hurt. You should reach out.”
    â€œWhat am I gonna say? I’m sorry? Never happen again?”
    â€œMake her feel better,” said Pete. “Even if it’s not true.”
    â€œDon’t do it,” said Brody. He had followed them out.“Lose concentration. When Terri starts that stuff, I hang up.”
    â€œI thought you weren’t answering your phone,” said Matt.
    â€œCould be my brother,” said Brody.
    â€œCaller ID?”
    Brody changed the subject. “You know Rydek Catering lost the quarter final?”
    So that was why no barbecue. The old man wasn’t coming out to camp a loser.
    Ramp wanted the Back Pack to attend his Raider Games, but they weren’t in the mood. Matt checked in briefly because it seemed like something a captain should do. They were silly and harmless, the usual, making the freshmen sing, stagger blindfolded through obstacle courses of garbage, find the statue of a snarling catamount, the Eastern Valley High mascot, that had been hidden in the woods. The freshmen stumbled through the woods in the dark, wearing only helmets, jockstraps, and shoes, while sophomores and juniors hid behind trees and made animal noises.
    Matt remembered he’d liked the camaraderie of the Raider Games his freshman and sophomore years, but by junior year he was bored.
    Chris showed up for the games, did what he was supposed to do, and Ramp left him alone, practically ignored him. Matt wondered if he was really cutting the kid slackor setting him up. Ramp was tricky. Matt sensed that Chris wasn’t sure what was happening either. Matt caught Chris looking at him a few times like he wanted to talk but was waiting for Matt to make the first move again. Let him wait. Or ask. I’m Captain Matt, not Dr. Phil.
    But at practice, the kid was still pushing hard. Coaches’ pet. He volunteered to hold for Patel’s kicks, and he even tried his leg at field goals. Not bad. He was mowing down the sophomore and junior linemen on one-on-ones. The coaches didn’t match him with Ramp again, but they put him in with Hagen. Chris ran over him and Ramp gave him a thumbs-up. That wasn’t Ramp’s style, Matt thought. Chris better watch out. But the kid just grinned.
    Everybody went all out the fifth day. Final chance to make an impression. The season opened in a week, and the starting lineup was taking shape in the coaches’ minds. Last day was always as dangerous as the first. Hamstrings pull, shoulders pop. Villanueva went down with a possible broken wrist. A trainer drove him back to Nearmont for X-rays.
    At dinner, Coach Mac congratulated them on a good camp.
    â€œLast time we hear this speech,” said Brody sadly.
    â€œI have high hopes for this team.” Coach Mac’s voice was low and raspy after five days of shouting. “I found out this week that you gentlemen have the skill to be footballplayers. This season we’ll find out if you have the will to be Raiders. To get back up when you’ve been knocked down. To put out when you’re hurting. To suck it up and soldier on when everybody else thinks you’re beaten.”
    Coach Mac took a deep breath, and Tyrell whispered, “If you can be a football player and a Raider, you know you’re going to be one helluva man.”
    Brody glared at Tyrell.
    â€œIf you can be a football player and a Raider,” said Coach Mac, “you know you’re going to be one helluva man. No