Football Double Threat (4 page)
“Regardless of whether it’s a running play or a pass play, the linemen’s and linebackers’ jobs don’t change much. But cornerbacks and safeties have to be alert for the pass play because it’s their job to cover the eligible receivers in order to eliminate them as targets for the quarterback to hit. Cornerbacks usually cover wide receivers. Safeties cover anyone else — tight end, back — who runs down the field for a pass. Questions?”
There were none.
“Okay, then let’s try a couple of simple passing drills. Liam, you’ll be quarterbacking. I’ll snap to you. Lars, you’re the receiver. Rocky, you cover Lars. Liam will have a count of five to get off a pass.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Jared asked.
“You watch and learn,” Coach Ward said shortly. “Offense, come here and I’ll outline the play.”
Lars and Liam huddled with the coach. Then they clapped their hands and broke for the play. Coach Ward took the ball and crouched with it at the fifty-yard line. Liam bent down behind him, hands ready for the snap. Lars hustled to a spot on their left and got into a three-point stance. Rocky lined up opposite him but back from the line of scrimmage.
Liam barked out the signals. The coach snapped the ball. As Liam faded back and Lars took off, the coach began to count backward from five in a loud voice.
Lars ran straight ahead. Rocky moved to cover him. Lars stutter-stepped and then darted to the outside. Rocky, not fooled, mirrored his every move.
Unfortunately, he was so busy watching Lars that he forgot to watch for the pass.
Thunk!
The ball hit Lars right in the numbers just as the coach yelled, “One!” Lars ran a few steps and then turned back with a wide grin.
“Good coverage, Rocky,” Coach Ward called. “But you’ve got two eyes. One has to be on the quarterback, the other on your man.”
Rocky nodded and tried to slow his breathing. Playing safety was harder than he’d expected!
It was Jared’s turn next so Rocky moved to the sidelines to watch. Liam and Coach Ward lined up as before. But this time, Lars stood on their right. Jared took his position facing him.
When the ball was snapped, Lars ran right past Jared. Jared backpedaled to keep himself between Lars and Liam. Liam let loose with the pass. The ball spiraled through the air. Lars jumped to make the catch — and Jared shoved him in midair!
Fweeeet!
The coach’s whistle shrieked. “Pass interference!” he bellowed at Jared. “If you had done that in a game, it would have been an automatic first down for the offense.”
Jared stopped in his tracks and scowled. “But you said I was supposed to eliminate the receiver as a target!”
“By covering him, not by decking him,” Coach Ward said sarcastically. “You can only tackle the receiver
after
he catches the ball. If it looks like he can catch it, you have to let him. Unless you think you can catch it instead. That’s called a —”
“I
know
what it’s called,” Jared interrupted. “It’s an interception.” He stormed off to the sidelines muttering, “I’m not an idiot. If you’d
told
me I couldn’t hit the guy before the catch, I wouldn’t have.”
Rocky gave him a sideways glance as he passed him on the field. He suddenly wondered which Jared disliked more, football or Coach Ward — and why he bothered to play for the Pythons if he hated both so much!
T
he remaining safety practice sped by. Rocky began to get a feel for keeping his eyes on both receiver and ball, as the coach had instructed. Jared too seemed to improve, although grudgingly. Toward the end, both were able to cover Lars so well that Liam failed to get off passes before the coach finished his countdown.
Their private practice ended when Coach Royson appeared. Moments later, the rest of the Pythons hit the field for warm-ups. Rocky, Lars, Liam, and Jared were given permission to take a quick water break since they were already warmed up.
Rocky took off his helmet, popped open his water, and lifted it to his mouth. Suddenly, someone reached out and tipped the bottle upside down. Water gushed down Rocky’s chin and onto his jersey before he could wrench the bottle free. He spun around, sputtering, to find Bobby standing there.
“Gotcha!” Bobby said.
“What did you do that for?” Rocky grumbled.
Bobby grinned. “You were looking so hot playing my position, I thought I better do something to cool you off.”
“Thanks for nothing,” Rocky said.
“So how’s it going out there?” Bobby asked. “How’s the new kid doing?”
“All right, I guess,” Rocky replied. “You got any pointers you want to pass along, though?”
“Actually, Rock Star,” Bobby said, “I’m here because I have something important to ask you.”
“If it’s about your chocolate bars, I’m working on it!” The words came out more sharply than he had intended. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jared glance at them with curiosity.
“No, it’s not about the chocolate, but thanks again for taking care of that for me. My leg” — Bobby grimaced then, moved both crutches to beneath one arm, and sank slowly onto the bench — “still isn’t feeling that great.” He held up a hand. “But don’t you worry about that, buddy, I’m sure it’ll stop aching . . . eventually.”
Rocky’s anger melted into guilt. “So what did you want to ask me, anyway?”
“I have to tell you something first.” Bobby puffed out his chest. “I am going to run for student council!”
“No kidding!” Rocky remembered seeing the signs around the middle school announcing the upcoming elections for the student-run government. But he had no idea Bobby was interested in entering the race. In fact, he recalled that last year, Bobby had made fun of the people running, calling them blowhards and teachers’ pets.
“That’s not all!” Bobby pointed a finger at Rocky. “I want you to be my campaign manager!”
Rocky blinked. “Your . . . what?”
“Campaign manager! You know, the guy who helps get me elected. You think up slogans, hang posters, talk me up around school, that kind of thing.”
“I don’t know, Bobby. It sounds like a lot of work and now that I’ve got these extra football practices . . .” His voice trailed off uncertainly.
Bobby’s smile vanished. When he spoke, he sounded hurt. “Oh. Right. Extra practices.”
He let out a long, dejected sigh. “Maybe running for student council is a dumb idea, anyway. It’s just that I’ve got all this free time, you know, what with my leg in a cast and everything. If only you hadn’t tackled me . . .”
His words hung in the air between them. Rocky broke the silence.
“Is that all I’d have to do?” he asked. “Think up slogans and hang posters?”
Bobby brightened instantly. “Yeah, that’s it! I think so, anyway. Actually, I’m not really sure. I wanted to know if you’d be my manager before I checked into the whole thing, you know? So will you?”
“I — sure, Bobby, I’ll be your manager.”
“Awesome! There’s a meeting for all candidates Wednesday at two thirty.”
“Okay,” Rocky agreed reluctantly, “but I might have to leave early because . . . well, you know.”
Rocky thought he saw a look of anger cross Bobby’s face. But it was so fleeting, he wasn’t sure. Then Bobby smiled and nodded. “Well, sure! You got to learn my position, right? See you later, Rock Star!”
Bobby pushed off the bench onto his crutches and made his way slowly and painstakingly across the turf to the locker room. Rocky rubbed his eyes to ward off the headache he felt coming on and then reached for his helmet.
“Schoolwork, chores, homework, football, chocolate bars,
more
football — and now campaign manager?” Rocky muttered to himself. “How am I ever going to do it all?”
R
ocky was always tired after football practice; after his extralong session Monday afternoon, he was doubly so. He knew he should try to sell some chocolate bars after dinner that night, but he just didn’t have the energy or the interest. Instead, he did his homework, watched some television, read a chapter in a science fiction novel, and then went to bed.
Tuesday morning, he ate his usual breakfast of waffles and orange juice. His mother frowned at the grungy clothes he was wearing until he told her about the walking field trip to do rock collecting. He stashed a big plastic bag in his backpack and went to school.
Mrs. Ryan’s room was filled with excited chatter. It wasn’t every day the class got to go on a field trip — and even though this one was just a short walk to the park, it was still better than sitting at a desk reading from a textbook.
Mrs. Ryan called for attention and everyone quieted down immediately. “I’ll be breaking you into pairs,” she said, “and giving each pair a rock hammer and two sets of safety glasses. The glasses belong to the school; the hammers are on loan to us for the week from the local science museum. Please treat all with care. And don’t leave them behind because other classes will need to use them throughout the remainder of the week.”
She read off pairs of names. Rocky and Bobby were together. She handed the small hammer to Bobby, who slipped it into his backpack.
“You can put your rock bag in there too if you want,” Bobby told Rocky.
Rocky grinned. “I’ll take you up on that offer — after my bag is full!”
The walk to the park took ten minutes. Rocky lagged behind with Bobby, who grunted as he moved on his crutches. Mrs. Ryan led them to the bottom of a cliff that was studded with rocks and jagged outcroppings. She instructed the students to put on their safety glasses and then demonstrated the proper technique for extracting samples from the cliff face.
“Small taps, not large whacks,” she said as she knocked a walnut-size chunk free.
The students spread out across the width of the cliff. There were some loose boulders on the ground that worked well as stepping-stones to reach rocks higher up. Soon the air was filled with the sounds of metal hammerheads tapping against stone. Every so often, someone would find a particularly interesting specimen. Then Mrs. Ryan would gather the whole class together and explain what the specimen was.
Rocky had collected seven decent-size rocks when he saw an unusual-looking formation sticking out of the cliff. It was just out of reach, however, and there were no boulders nearby for him to climb on. He stood looking up at it in frustration.
Bobby came up alongside. When he saw what Rocky was looking at, he slid one crutch out from an arm. “Use this to knock it down,” he suggested.
Rocky glanced over at Mrs. Ryan. She was busy helping another student. So he took the crutch, lifted it high, and batted it against the formation. He’d only tapped it once when, suddenly, the whole thing crumbled. He managed to scramble out of the way before being hit with the pieces.
Mrs. Ryan came running. When she was certain no one was hurt, she put her hands on her hips and frowned at Rocky. “That,” she said, “was not the proper technique for extracting rocks. However” — she picked up one of the bigger chunks and turned it over in her hands — “you did dislodge some intriguing specimens.”
She showed the piece to Rocky and Bobby. “See the shells embedded in there? That could indicate there was once a body of water here. Interesting, yes?”
She gave the chunk to Rocky for his collection and then called to the other students. “Class, come over and help yourselves to one of Rocky’s rocks! Then it’s time to go back to school.”
Rocky put the rock piece into his plastic bag of other samples. Bobby grabbed his own shell-studded sample and then put on his backpack and picked up his crutches.
“Help me put my stuff in my pack, will you, Rocky?” He handed his sample bag and safety glasses to Rocky. Rocky slipped them in, along with the rock hammer, his glasses, and his bag of rocks. Then he zipped up the pack.
After hobbling back from the park, Bobby excused himself to use the bathroom at school. When he returned to the classroom, he took the hammer and two pairs of safety glasses from his pack and added them to the others already there. Then he took out his bag of rocks, put them on his desk, and set his backpack aside.
“Psst, Bobby! Can I have my samples?” Rocky whispered.
Bobby turned a confused eye to him. “Huh?”
“My rocks! Give me my rocks!”
Bobby shook his head. “I don’t have your rocks!”
Rocky grabbed Bobby’s backpack then. “Yes you do! I put them right in here!” He rummaged frantically inside the pack. But it was empty. “Where’d they go?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rocky,” Bobby said. “There was only one bag of rocks in there — and it was mine!”
“Is everything okay, boys?” Mrs. Ryan asked.
“I — I lost my samples,” Rocky replied. He told her what happened. “Maybe I left my bag behind. Could I go look?”
She shook her head. “I can’t let you go back there without a chaperone. You’ll have to go after school.”
“What if they’re not there anymore?”
“Take a rock hammer and pair of safety glasses with you. That way, you can gather a second set of samples if need be.”
Rocky nodded dumbly. He was completely bewildered. He knew he had put his rock samples in Bobby’s backpack. So where had they gone?
Then he realized what Mrs. Ryan had said. He had to go back to the park after school — but he was supposed to meet Coach Ward and the others for extra practice at three!
If I run to the park and find my samples right away, I can still make it to the field on time,
he figured.
But if I have to dig out more samples, I’ll be late for sure! I may even miss the extra practice time altogether!
There was nothing to be done about it, though. Schoolwork came first, football second.
A
fter school, Rocky raced to the cliff. He searched frantically. There was no sign of his bag of rocks anywhere. Fortunately, there were many interesting bits of rock lying on the ground, including the seashell ones he’d dislodged earlier. He gathered several good-size samples and stuck them in his backpack. They rattled around as he ran, pell-mell, for the locker room.
But even after running at top speed he was fifteen minutes late to safety practice. Coach Ward looked pointedly at his watch but nodded with understanding when Rocky explained what had happened. “I won’t be late again, I promise,” he assured the coach.