on me. I don’t want a kid playing if he
isn’t up to par.”
“I’m telling you the truth, Coach,” said Jabber. “I’m okay.”
“Then why aren’t you showing it on the field?”
“I’ll try better the next half,” Jabber promised. “If I’m in there,” he added hopefully.
The coach made no comment about putting Jabber in or not, leaving Jabber wondering about it during the rest of the half, and
the first few minutes of the ten-minute intermission.
Then the coach looked at him over the heads of the other players. “Okay, Jabber. You’re starting the second half. Work close
with Stork and Mose. Keep your kicks short, and let’s break the game wide open. You ready?” he addressed the team.
“Ready!” they shouted in unison.
The buzzer sounded from the scorekeeper’s bench, and both teams trotted onto the field. The starting lineup for each team
got into position; the others sauntered over to their respective benches.
It was the Nuggets’ turn to center the ball. Stork kicked it gently at an angle toward Rusty. The Blue Jackets’ center tore
in quickly, kicked the ball hard down the field, then led his team in a mad dash after it.
Eddie Bailor trapped the ball with his chest, and booted it back up the field. Eddie had strong legs and it seemed he could
kick the ball a mile. He sent it almost to the center line where Rusty was waiting for it.
Jabber and Stork raced past Rusty, one on each side of him. Rusty passed it to Stork, who almost lost it the very next instant
as a Blue Jacket came charging at him.
“Here, Stork!” cried Jabber.
Stork snapped the ball to him with the side of his foot, and Jabber took it down the field. He looked for Mose and saw the
right half about ten feet away from him, to his right. Mose was okay. He was on the alert.
Two Blue Jackets converged on Jabber. He waited till the last moment he felt he could contain the ball, then shot it to Mose.
Mose caught it expertly with the instep of his right foot and dribbled it on.
The two Blue Jackets turned and raced after the ball, one tripping over a leg of the other, falling to the turf and skidding
a couple of feet.
Jabber leaped over him, heading down the center of the field. Ahead and to his right was Stork. Rusty and Butch were just
beyond.
A Blue Jacket fullback charged at the ball, forcing Mose to kick. He intended it for Stork, but a Blue Jacket rushed in like
a blur and kicked it, lofting it over the goal line.
“Gold out!” yelled the ref.
Jabber shook his head. A goal play had been in the making. If the ball had gotten to Stork, he wouldhave passed it to Jabber and that would have been it. But the darn Blue Jacket had spoiled it.
Rusty took out the ball. He tossed it to Butch, who booted it gently
upfield
from the goal.
Jabber stared at him. “Butch! I was wide open!”
“You couldn’t have scored, though,” answered Butch. “You would’ve been offside.”
Glancing quickly around him, Jabber saw that Butch was right. There would have been only one opponent between him and the
goal line. The rules called for two.
“Sorry, Butch,” he said, looking back toward the play in time to see Stork give the ball a vicious kick. It was a solid drive
that streaked between two Blue Jackets like a cannonball toward the left side of the goal.
The Blue Jackets’ goalie leaped after it, but not even a flying tackle could have stopped that one.
Nuggets 2, Blue Jackets 1.
Jabber headed slowly toward his position, feeling better now that the tie had been broken. He wiped the sweat off his forehead
and his eyelids. His tongue felt like sandpaper. His throat was parched.
A kid ran onto the field with a bucket of water.Each player took a few sips. Jabber took a swallow, swished some of the water around in his mouth and spat it out. He felt
better.
During the free moment he couldn’t help thinking again about Pete’s wallet. He had to do something. He couldn’t carry it
isn’t up to par.”
“I’m telling you the truth, Coach,” said Jabber. “I’m okay.”
“Then why aren’t you showing it on the field?”
“I’ll try better the next half,” Jabber promised. “If I’m in there,” he added hopefully.
The coach made no comment about putting Jabber in or not, leaving Jabber wondering about it during the rest of the half, and
the first few minutes of the ten-minute intermission.
Then the coach looked at him over the heads of the other players. “Okay, Jabber. You’re starting the second half. Work close
with Stork and Mose. Keep your kicks short, and let’s break the game wide open. You ready?” he addressed the team.
“Ready!” they shouted in unison.
The buzzer sounded from the scorekeeper’s bench, and both teams trotted onto the field. The starting lineup for each team
got into position; the others sauntered over to their respective benches.
It was the Nuggets’ turn to center the ball. Stork kicked it gently at an angle toward Rusty. The Blue Jackets’ center tore
in quickly, kicked the ball hard down the field, then led his team in a mad dash after it.
Eddie Bailor trapped the ball with his chest, and booted it back up the field. Eddie had strong legs and it seemed he could
kick the ball a mile. He sent it almost to the center line where Rusty was waiting for it.
Jabber and Stork raced past Rusty, one on each side of him. Rusty passed it to Stork, who almost lost it the very next instant
as a Blue Jacket came charging at him.
“Here, Stork!” cried Jabber.
Stork snapped the ball to him with the side of his foot, and Jabber took it down the field. He looked for Mose and saw the
right half about ten feet away from him, to his right. Mose was okay. He was on the alert.
Two Blue Jackets converged on Jabber. He waited till the last moment he felt he could contain the ball, then shot it to Mose.
Mose caught it expertly with the instep of his right foot and dribbled it on.
The two Blue Jackets turned and raced after the ball, one tripping over a leg of the other, falling to the turf and skidding
a couple of feet.
Jabber leaped over him, heading down the center of the field. Ahead and to his right was Stork. Rusty and Butch were just
beyond.
A Blue Jacket fullback charged at the ball, forcing Mose to kick. He intended it for Stork, but a Blue Jacket rushed in like
a blur and kicked it, lofting it over the goal line.
“Gold out!” yelled the ref.
Jabber shook his head. A goal play had been in the making. If the ball had gotten to Stork, he wouldhave passed it to Jabber and that would have been it. But the darn Blue Jacket had spoiled it.
Rusty took out the ball. He tossed it to Butch, who booted it gently
upfield
from the goal.
Jabber stared at him. “Butch! I was wide open!”
“You couldn’t have scored, though,” answered Butch. “You would’ve been offside.”
Glancing quickly around him, Jabber saw that Butch was right. There would have been only one opponent between him and the
goal line. The rules called for two.
“Sorry, Butch,” he said, looking back toward the play in time to see Stork give the ball a vicious kick. It was a solid drive
that streaked between two Blue Jackets like a cannonball toward the left side of the goal.
The Blue Jackets’ goalie leaped after it, but not even a flying tackle could have stopped that one.
Nuggets 2, Blue Jackets 1.
Jabber headed slowly toward his position, feeling better now that the tie had been broken. He wiped the sweat off his forehead
and his eyelids. His tongue felt like sandpaper. His throat was parched.
A kid ran onto the field with a bucket of water.Each player took a few sips. Jabber took a swallow, swished some of the water around in his mouth and spat it out. He felt
better.
During the free moment he couldn’t help thinking again about Pete’s wallet. He had to do something. He couldn’t carry it
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