The Great Quarterback Switch (7 page)

From his wheelchair, Michael looked on with disbelief.
What a run!
he thought.
If Kip is a smart quarterback, he’ll try that play again.

And Kip did! This time Abe chewed up eighteen yards before Angie, in the left linebacker position, brought him down.

You’ve got to sew up that hole, Tom!
Michael’s mind screamed.
You’ve got to sew it up, or Abrams will keep driving through it till he scores!

Charlie Jarvis, the Cheetahs’ left halfback, carried the ball next. Instead of trying to plow through right tackle, though,
he sprinted around right end and got thrown for a two-yard loss.

Kip tried a pass that went incomplete. Then he tucked the ball into Abe’s gut again,
and Abe bulldozed into the line. He kept going, dodging the linebackers and then beating Tom to the goal line by just a step.

It was a touchdown.

Kip booted the ball between the uprights for the point after to put the Cheetahs on the scoreboard: 7-0.

Michael socked his knee with his fist. Less than two minutes had gone by and the Cheetahs had already drawn blood. The way
they looked, and the way Abe Abrams was taking charge, that seven-point lead was sure to grow.

It did. And within the next two minutes, too.

The Cheetahs’ tall, high-jumping right end, Don Falls, had snared a pass intended for Bob Riley and galloped all the way down
the field for the Cheetahs’ second touchdown. The try for the extra point was good, stretching the lead to 14-0.

Michael saw Tom standing as if in stunned surprise, his hands on his hips and his head lowered. He couldn’t seem to believe
that his first pass of the game could have been intercepted and then run for a touchdown.

Buck up, Tom!
Michael tried to tell his brother through his extrasensory powers.
Don’t let it get you down. It’s still early in the game.

The score remained 14-0 going into the second quarter. The ball was on the Eagles’ forty-one-yard line. It was second and
seven, Eagles’ ball.

“Four! Six! Nine! Hip! Hip! Hip!” Tom barked.

He took the snap from center, fumbled it, picked it up, stumbled back.

Fumbled again! Luckily, Vince was right there to land on the ball, but the play went for a loss of yardage all the same.

C’mon, Tom, you’re losing your concentration
out there! Let me in, and give yourself time to get your head together,
Michael thought desperately. As if he had heard him, Tom shook his head.

But suddenly, the decision was taken out of both their hands.

“Kirk!” Coach Frank Cotter’s voice boomed. “Get out there and take Tom’s place!”

Kirk Tyler, the Eagles’ backup quarterback, pulled on his helmet as he sprinted out to the field.

Tom saw Kirk going in and started off the field, head down.

“I hope he’s not too bummed out,” a voice near Michael’s elbow murmured.

He looked at the speaker. It was Vickie Marsh. Next to her stood the ever-present Carol Patterson.

“So do I,” said Michael.

“Is Kirk any good?”

“I don’t know. He’ll be playing under pressure. That’s the worst time.”

As Tom approached, his eyes met Michael’s. They looked tired and worried.

“Have a seat, Tom,” Coach Patterson said. “You need a break.”

If only he had let me give him that break!
Michael thought dismally.
Then one of us would still be in the game.

He caught Tom’s eye again. The worried look was still there.

What are we going to do?
Michael read Tom’s thoughts.
Kirk isn’t good enough to handle the team. I think you’re better than he is, Michael. But are you strong enough to play for
the rest of the game? And even if you are
—
how are you going to get in?

I
t was the Eagles’ ball on their own thirty-six-yard line. It was third down and twelve to go. Michael looked on helplessly
as the team broke out of the huddle and trotted to the line of scrimmage. Some of the guys walked as if the spirit of playing
had been drained out of them.

Kirk called signals, took the snap, and faded back to pass. He threw a long bomb to Stan down the left side of the field.
But it sailed far over Stan’s head, and was incomplete.

Vince punted on the fourth down and
managed to get the ball down near the Cheetahs’ twenty-five-yard line.

Michael looked at Tom, saw him sitting with his helmet in his hands and his elbows on his knees. His hair was rumpled, and
sticky with sweat.

We’ve got to do something, Tom. We can’t just sit here like a couple of dummies.

But what else could they do? Michael wondered. He certainly couldn’t just get out of his chair. And Tom was sitting on the
bench, probably for the rest of the game.

Maybe, Michael reflected, the guys on the field had a lot to be dispirited about, at that.

But that was like giving up. And you cannot give up. Ever.

Out on the field the Cheetahs were moving again like a formidable herd. Charlie Jarvis had just bolted around left end for
a first down.

“I think it’s just terrible,” Vickie said at Michael’s elbow.

“What is?” asked Michael, startled briefly by the sound of her voice.

“Tom’s being taken out, just because he made one or two mistakes.”

“I think he should be able to get in again. That is, I think so,” Michael said emphatically.

“I sure hope so,” said Vickie.

“Come on, Vick,” Carol broke in, grabbing her arm. “Let’s get back to our seats. I’m getting tired standing.”

“Okay. See you, Michael.”

“Sure,” said Michael.

He looked around at her a minute, wondering how she and Carol— as different as day and night— could get along so well together.
Maybe it was what they needed, he thought; their differences made life interesting.

He turned his attention back to the game,
and noticed that Kip Stanley had just clicked with a pass to Chuck Philips for another first down. Oh, man.

The ball was now on the Eagles’ forty-two-yard line. Wasn’t there anything the Eagles could do to stop the rampaging Cheetahs?

Abe bolted through right tackle for four yards, then again for two.

“Button up that line!” Michael yelled. “Close it up tight!”

The linemen didn’t hear him, of course. If they had heard, they didn’t pay any attention to him. Maybe buttoning up the line
would not help, anyway.

Then one of the Cheetahs was caught offside. The five-yard penalty helped the Eagles a little, but hardly enough. Abe made
it up, and one extra yard, as he cross-bucked the line before Angie Costello brought him down.

Then, for a while, the Eagles held the Cheetahs and managed to get possession of the ball on the Eagles’ twenty-four.

“Now, move it!” Coach Cotter yelled as he stood up from the bench, clapping hard. “Move it up that field! You can do it!”

They did it for eighteen yards, then lost the ball as Kirk heaved a sloppy pass that Kip intercepted. Kip made it to the Eagles’
thirty-one, where Lumpy Harris hit him with one of his big shoulders, dropping him on the spot.

In just three plays the Cheetahs scored again, failing only to get the point after. Cheetahs 20, Eagles 0.

The half ended a few minutes later. Michael met Tom’s eyes as Tom got off the bench to head with the pack down the field to
the west goal, where they would sit and listen to Coach Cotter telling them what they had done wrong and what they had to
do right. As if the guys didn’t know, thought Michael despairingly.

“Tom, come here a minute,” Michael called to his brother.

Tom came forward. “Yeah?”

“Think you can get back in?”

“I don’t know. It’s up to Coach. He’s pretty steamed about that interception I threw, and that fumble didn’t help, either.
I’m not sure he’s going to give me another chance— and I don’t know if I even want one, tell you the truth. I’m afraid I’ll
do something worse if he does.”

“Worse than what Kirk’s doing out there now? C’mon, Tom, you and I both know that you’re better than he is. And anyway, it’s
not just you the coach would be letting back in the game, right?”

Tom’s eyes brightened as he looked at Michael hopefully.

“All you have to do, Tom, is convince the coach to sub you in again.”

Tom’s face fell. “How do I do that?”

Just then, Coach Cotter yelled for Tom to hustle on over.

“Leave it to me!” Michael said as Tom stood up. “Switch places with me after half-time and I’ll coax Coach into putting me
in.”

Tom studied his brother for a moment, then gave a halfhearted shrug. “Okay. I gotta go now. See you in a bit.”

Michael watched his brother’s slumped shoulders as he joined the other Eagles. A sad look came into his eyes.

I wish Tom wouldn’t doubt himself like that,
he thought.
What’ll it take to prove to him once and for all that he’s a great quarterback?

T
he third quarter began with Kirk still in the game. It was hardly under way when it became evident that the Cheetahs were
on the move again. Although Kip’s passes were not always on target, Abe Abrams’s bucks through the line more than made up
for the incompletions.

They were in Eagle territory, eating up yardage in big chunks, and the Eagles could not seem to do much about it.

Michael looked at Tom, but Tom was staring at his shoes.

Tom! Hey, Tom, for crying out loud!
his
thoughts rang out almost as if they were audible.

Still Tom didn’t turn around.

Then Michael began the other tack— wishing and concentrating on his thought-energies. Seconds went by— and then a minute—
as he wished and concentrated harder and harder to make the exchange with Tom.

But, if Tom wasn’t wishing and concentrating, too—

Suddenly, it happened! Michael was sitting on the bench in the exact spot where Tom had been sitting! On his left was Rick
Howell, on his right, Coach Cotter. He glanced at Tom in the wheelchair, caught Tom’s fleeting smile, and winked.

Good luck!
Tom formed the words with his mouth.

His heart began to pound as he started to gather up courage to ask Coach Cotter to
put him in the game. He could not waste much time.

On the field the Cheetahs had the ball on the Eagles’ thirty-one-yard line. The down marker one of the linesmen was holding
read two. There were about seven yards to go.

On the next play, Abe plowed through for two yards. Now it was third and five. A not-so-hard-to-get five the way the Cheetahs
were going.

Then Kip took the snap and faded back to pass. Suddenly he went down, the ball squirting out of his hands. Somebody had gotten
the jump on him. It was Lumpy! Good old Lumpy! Lumpy stayed on the ground, his arms wrapped around Kip like the strong jaws
of a trap.

For a moment the ball bounced around freely. Then a guy in an Eagle’s uniform pounced on it like a cat, smothering it. The
whistle shrilled. It was the Eagles’ ball!

Now was the time to go in, thought Michael. Now. While the guys were going into a huddle.

His lips trembled as he looked at the coach. “Coach, put me in there. I’m okay now. Please let me go in.”

Coach Cotter looked at him. For a moment his eyes narrowed slightly, and fear sliced through Michael. He looked away, lifted
his helmet, and started to put it on, hoping with all his might that the coach would just put him in without question.

“Are you sure your head is together now, Tom?” Coach asked. “You seem to have been drifting out there today.”

“I know, Coach, but I’m sure you’ll see an improvement in my playing.” Michael finished putting the helmet on and faced the
coach. “I— I’m a new man. I promise.”

The coach crossed his arms and blew out
his breath. “Okay. Run in there. Hurry. And don’t forget to send Kirk out.”

Michael’s heart leaped. “Thanks, Coach!” he cried, and dashed out on the field.

He reached the huddle just as it began to break up. “Sorry, Kirk,” he said to the alternate quarterback.

Kirk looked at him. Without a word he spun and ran off the field.

“Huddle!” Michael commanded.

Quickly they got back into a huddle.

“T-forty-three drive,” Michael snapped. “On three!”

In an instant they were out of the huddle and hurrying to the line of scrimmage. The ball was on the Eagles’ thirty-seven.

Michael called signals. The ball was snapped. Michael took it, faked a handoff to Vince, then shoved the ball into Jim Berry’s
gut as he came running by. Jim plunged through for four yards.

“Power sweep left,” said Michael in the huddle.

Vince stared at him. “You’re going to run it?”

“We have to work on surprises from now on,” Michael said tersely. “On two! Let’s go!”

With Vince, Jim, and Angie cutting to the left side of the line, then blocking their men, Michael found his path around the
left end clear sailing. The play caught the Cheetahs by surprise all right, for it was the first time that an Eagles quarterback
had attempted a run since the start of the game. Michael crossed the fifty and just had one man between him and the goal line.
That man was Kip, who doubled as quarterback and safety man, too, the same as Tom (or now, Michael) was doing.

Michael tried to sidestep Kip, but Kip dived at him and tackled him around the
waist. He went down on the Cheetahs’ twenty-eight.

Not since the game had started had the Eagles’ fans cheered so loudly and lustily.

First and ten.

“Flat pass,” said Michael in the huddle.

He got the snap, faded back, and shot a quick pass to Bob Riley in the flat to the right of the field. Bob sprinted for eight
yards and was smeared.

Second and two.

“The same play,” said Michael.

This time it didn’t work. The pass was too short. It went incomplete.

Third and two.

“Let’s try the drive again,” said Michael.

They did, and the play went for five yards and another first down.

“T-forty-three,” said Michael in the huddle.