blinked and nodded. âYeah, I guess.â
Stretching ended. The players formed several lines and began running through agility drills. Then Coach blew his whistle, shouting for the linemen to go with Coach Lee and the backs and receivers to join him and another assistant under the goal post. Harrison was already sweating from the agility drills and all the padding, and his helmet felt strange and uncomfortable. On the next whistle, linemen went to one part of the field while skill playersârunners, receivers, quarterbacks, and defensive backsâwent to another. Harrison fell in with the skill players, standing in the back of the group so he could watch and learn.
They started with a tackling drill. Coach arranged six foam half-round bags end to end in two parallel lines to create a space in the grass only about two yards wide. The players separated into two groupsâone side would run the ball while the other would try to tackle that runner. All the action was to take place in the strip of grass between the bags. Harrison ended up in the tackling line. He watched as the first pair squared off, smashing into each other, with both going down. The next runner lowered a shoulder and blasted the tackler sideways, where he tripped and fell over one of the bags. The boys all cheered.
The next tackler got the best of his runner, hitting him low and upending him like a kicked bucket. More cheers.
Before he knew it, Harrison was up and, staring at him from the other end of the bags, was Leo Howard. In the embarrassment of walking out with his shoulder pads backward, Harrison had forgotten about his math class tormenter. Leo Howardâs puffy lips curled into a smile around his mouthpiece. Harrison heard the boy snarl as he grabbed the ball.
The whistle blew.
Before Harrison could react, Leo Howard bolted toward him like a branded bull.
Chapter Twenty
HARRISON WASNâT AFRAID, JUST unsure.
Then something snapped inside him and he took off, running right at Leo with his arms wide to make the tackle. Leo lowered his shoulder and exploded up into Harrison as if he really was a bull goring a matador with his horn. The wind left Harrisonâs body in a fierce gush. The earth flipped. He crashed down and saw a burst of stars. Coach blew his whistle.
Some of the kids laughed. Leo Howard strutted at the other end of the bags and tossed the ball underhand to Coach.
âNice hit, Leo.â Coach didnât even look at Harrison. âLetâs go, next!â
Harrison got out of the way and switched sides like everyone before him, standing now at the back of the running backsâ line. The way Coach acted hurt Harrison, but it also made him mad. He studied the players in front of him, what the runners did and the tacklers, too. He knew without anyone telling him what heâd done wrong. He was too high. The kids who got underneath their opponents, whether they were the runner or the tackler, seemed to do much better than the kids who stood up straight when they hit.
Harrison envisioned himself getting the ball and lowering his own pads. He knew he could do it. He moved steadily up in the line. Coach didnât say much to any of the kids; he just blew the whistle and watched them hit. When Harrison was next to go, he saw Leo move up two spots and cut the line so that heâd have another shot at Harrison.
Harrison sunk his teeth into his mouth guard. A growl gurgled up from his throat. What he really wanted to do was run right over, rip Leoâs helmet off, and punch him in the face. He knew he couldnât, though, and instead, he breathed short huffs of breath and focused on what he would do when he had the ball.
The whistle blewâhis turn.
Coach looked at him and gave him a nod so small that no one else would notice, then tossed Harrison the ball. Harrison caught it, lowered his hips, and staggered his feet to get a good running start. Leo Howard stood at the far end of the bags. He
Stretching ended. The players formed several lines and began running through agility drills. Then Coach blew his whistle, shouting for the linemen to go with Coach Lee and the backs and receivers to join him and another assistant under the goal post. Harrison was already sweating from the agility drills and all the padding, and his helmet felt strange and uncomfortable. On the next whistle, linemen went to one part of the field while skill playersârunners, receivers, quarterbacks, and defensive backsâwent to another. Harrison fell in with the skill players, standing in the back of the group so he could watch and learn.
They started with a tackling drill. Coach arranged six foam half-round bags end to end in two parallel lines to create a space in the grass only about two yards wide. The players separated into two groupsâone side would run the ball while the other would try to tackle that runner. All the action was to take place in the strip of grass between the bags. Harrison ended up in the tackling line. He watched as the first pair squared off, smashing into each other, with both going down. The next runner lowered a shoulder and blasted the tackler sideways, where he tripped and fell over one of the bags. The boys all cheered.
The next tackler got the best of his runner, hitting him low and upending him like a kicked bucket. More cheers.
Before he knew it, Harrison was up and, staring at him from the other end of the bags, was Leo Howard. In the embarrassment of walking out with his shoulder pads backward, Harrison had forgotten about his math class tormenter. Leo Howardâs puffy lips curled into a smile around his mouthpiece. Harrison heard the boy snarl as he grabbed the ball.
The whistle blew.
Before Harrison could react, Leo Howard bolted toward him like a branded bull.
Chapter Twenty
HARRISON WASNâT AFRAID, JUST unsure.
Then something snapped inside him and he took off, running right at Leo with his arms wide to make the tackle. Leo lowered his shoulder and exploded up into Harrison as if he really was a bull goring a matador with his horn. The wind left Harrisonâs body in a fierce gush. The earth flipped. He crashed down and saw a burst of stars. Coach blew his whistle.
Some of the kids laughed. Leo Howard strutted at the other end of the bags and tossed the ball underhand to Coach.
âNice hit, Leo.â Coach didnât even look at Harrison. âLetâs go, next!â
Harrison got out of the way and switched sides like everyone before him, standing now at the back of the running backsâ line. The way Coach acted hurt Harrison, but it also made him mad. He studied the players in front of him, what the runners did and the tacklers, too. He knew without anyone telling him what heâd done wrong. He was too high. The kids who got underneath their opponents, whether they were the runner or the tackler, seemed to do much better than the kids who stood up straight when they hit.
Harrison envisioned himself getting the ball and lowering his own pads. He knew he could do it. He moved steadily up in the line. Coach didnât say much to any of the kids; he just blew the whistle and watched them hit. When Harrison was next to go, he saw Leo move up two spots and cut the line so that heâd have another shot at Harrison.
Harrison sunk his teeth into his mouth guard. A growl gurgled up from his throat. What he really wanted to do was run right over, rip Leoâs helmet off, and punch him in the face. He knew he couldnât, though, and instead, he breathed short huffs of breath and focused on what he would do when he had the ball.
The whistle blewâhis turn.
Coach looked at him and gave him a nod so small that no one else would notice, then tossed Harrison the ball. Harrison caught it, lowered his hips, and staggered his feet to get a good running start. Leo Howard stood at the far end of the bags. He
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