Unstoppable by Tim Green Page B

slapped his helmet once with each hand, snorted, and lowered his own stance.
    The whistle blew again.
    Harrison took off. Leo Howard surged toward him. Harrison felt thirteen years of hatred boiling in his brain. Leo came at him low, moving with the skill and ease of a cat. An instant before impact, Harrison lowered his shoulder, aiming it for Leo’s helmet.
    When they crashed together, their pads popped like a gunshot.
    Harrison saw more stars.
    A roar burst from his throat.

Chapter Twenty-One
    â€œAHHH!” HARRISON PLOWED STRAIGHT through Leo Howard.
    Leo reeled sideways, tripped over the bags, and fell to the ground.
    Harrison ran the length of the bags, turned, and headed back for Leo again.
    He heard Coach’s yell behind him. “Harrison!”
    As Leo got to his feet, Harrison lowered his shoulder again, blasting Leo Howard from the side and knocking him to the ground once more.
    â€œHarrison, no!” Coach was on him, holding him and flinging him away from the fallen player as he blew on his whistle. “It’s over!”
    The rest of the team looked at him wide-eyed. The red mist that had clouded Harrison’s mind began to clear.
    â€œYou did good,” Coach said, patting him on the shoulder, “but you only get one hit. When you hear the whistle, that’s it. You understand? You can’t hit anyone after the whistle. That’s the game.”
    Coach turned on the rest of the team. “What are you all looking at? Let’s go, next two up!”
    Coach marched past Leo without concern, even though the red-headed boy wobbled as he got to his feet. Harrison jogged to the back of the tackling line now.
    Justin fell in beside him and whispered, “Nice hit. You’re a maniac. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone run Leo over. Trust me, Coach loves that stuff. He’s old school.”
    Harrison knew what that meant, that Coach did things the way they used to be done in a time from the past, when the game was even tougher and more brutal than it was now. Part of that was having no pity for players who got stomped by their opponents. It made Harrison feel better about the way Coach ignored him after Leo knocked him down. It wasn’t anything personal; that’s just the way Coach was, old school.
    Now it was time for Harrison to figure out the tackling side of things. He noticed that the players who did it best not only got their pads low, but they wrapped their arms and exploded up through the runner. Harrison didn’t know if that was something he could do, but he had an idea how it might work. When his turn came, he smiled to himself to see that Leo hadn’t cut the line to match up with him again.
    Harrison got ready, burst forward at the whistle, then launched himself at the runner halfway through the bags. While he did make the tackle, he hit the runner too low and the runner was able to fall forward over the top of him to gain an extra yard.
    Coach tooted his whistle. “Not bad. Knock him back next time. Drive up through him.”
    Harrison went to the end of the running backs’ line. When Leo took his next turn, he seemed to have lost some steam. One of the other players brought him down without too much of a struggle. When Harrison was up again, he faced a solid-looking kid the others called “Bull,” which was short for Bulkowski. Like about half the team, Mike Bulkowski was a ninth grader. Harrison didn’t feel quite the same rage as he had against Leo. He kept his pads low, but without the intensity Bull was able to drag him down.
    â€œOn again, off again,” Coach barked without looking directly at Harrison. “There’s no such thing as a part-time champion. You play how you practice, boys. If you take a vacation, even for a single play in practice, you’ll do the same thing in a game, and we can’t win that way.”
    Harrison felt his ears burning again. The last thing he wanted to do