The Great Quarterback Switch (8 page)

Angie took the handoff and plowed through a hole on the right side for three yards. He ran again, and was stopped dead on
the line of scrimmage.

“What now?” Vince asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead as they crouched in the huddle.

“You’re driving again,” Michael told him. “They’ll be expecting a pass.”

Michael took the snap from center, faded back as if to pass, then handed off to Vince. Vince went through a huge gap in the
right side of the line, knocked over a linebacker, and bolted toward the right side of the end zone. He crossed it inches
ahead of Kip, who had been about to tackle him, then had changed his mind.

Six points.

“Tired, Vince?” Michael asked him.

“Boy, am I,” replied Vince, breathing hard.

“Okay. We’ll pass,” said Michael. No one disagreed.

Vince got into kicking position. Jack centered the ball to Michael. Michael started to put it down on the ground, then quickly
lifted it to his shoulder and whipped it across the field to Stan. Nobody was near him, and he galloped down for a two-point
conversion!

Cheetahs 20, Eagles 8.

Vince kicked off. Kip caught it on his thirty and went to the forty-two, where Butch Bogger nailed him.

Again the Cheetahs began their move. But only to the Eagles’ forty-one. Again Lumpy’s tackle caused Kip to lose the ball,
and the Eagles recovered it.

In three plays the Eagles moved it to the Cheetahs’ thirty-eight. Then the whistle shrilled, announcing the end of the third
quarter. The teams changed goals.

Michael took off his helmet as he trotted across the fifty-yard line. Sweat beaded his forehead. Suddenly he realized that
one of the guys had run up beside him. It was Vince.

“I don’t know what happened on the sidelines, but it’s like you’re a different person since you got back in the game!” Vince
said breathlessly.

The words hit Michael like a shot. Was the way he and Tom played so different? He wanted to know.

“What do you mean, Vince?” he asked.

Vince shrugged, his shoulder pads lifting. “I don’t know, it’s like you’re more sure of yourself. You don’t hesitate when
you decide what play to run. Earlier this game, when we’d huddle up, you’d sort of look around to make sure we all agreed
with what you’d called. Now you don’t. The plays
usually come off okay either way, but me and the guys kind of like it when you take charge. When you’re confident in what
you’re doing, it makes us confident. I think we play better, too.”

Somehow, Michael wasn’t surprised by what Vince was saying. Tom’s slumped shoulders at halftime had spoken volumes. He hadn’t
been confident in his playing in the two quarters of the game— and if what Vince was saying was true, then that attitude had
affected the rest of the team.

As Michael lined up for the play, he realized that up until now, TEC had done two things for the twins: it had given Tom a
chance to rest and Michael a chance to play. But now Michael saw that it could do one more thing. It could give Michael a
chance to tell Tom what his teammates were thinking.

And what they were thinking was that
Tom was the best quarterback their team had. That they respected him and wanted him to be a leader.

And that’s just what I’m going to let him be,
Michael thought.

Michael broke into a faster trot. “Come on. Time’s a-wastin’,” he said.

The Eagles moved the ball to the Cheetahs’ sixteen-yard line. Then a terrible thing happened. Abe Abrams busted through the
line and tackled Michael for a twelve-yard loss. Not only that, but Michael fumbled the ball, too, and Abe recovered it!

“What lousy luck!” Vince cried, socking the air with his fist. “And we had them on the run!”

“Don’t give up,” said Michael, trying hard to keep cool over the loss. “Just don’t give up.”

In three plays the Cheetahs gained only six yards. They punted on the fourth. The
kick went to their forty-six, where Michael grabbed it out of the air and carried it to the Cheetahs’ thirty-one.

“We’re almost back where we started from,” he said happily in the huddle. “Okay. Flat pass to Bob.”

The play succeeded for nineteen yards, putting the ball on the Cheetahs’ twelve. On the next play Vince carried the ball through
left tackle for their second touchdown. Then he booted it between the uprights to make it fifteen points against the Cheetahs’
twenty.

“Another six points and we’ll beat ’em,” said Lumpy, grinning from a sweat-smeared face.

Vince chuckled. “Good adding, Lumpy. And you did it without a calculator, too.”

“Smart mouth,” snorted Lumpy.

Vince’s kickoff was the poorest since the season had started. It was a bouncing kick
that Charlie Jarvis snapped up on his own forty and carried to the Eagles’ forty-three.

“Save that energy for your runs,” said Michael, as Vince disgustedly kicked up sod with the toe of his shoe.

“Oh, sure,” replied Vince. “As if we’ll have another chance.”

“We’ll have another chance. We have to,” Michael growled.

At that moment, Coach Cotter called a time-out. Michael rushed to the sidelines ahead of the rest of the team.

This is my chance!
he thought wildly.
I’ve got to get to Tom and tell him what the team wants from him.

He had no time to waste. As his teammates gathered around the coach, he slipped onto the bench beside Tom in the wheelchair.

“Tom,” he whispered urgently. “Listen closely. You’re going back in the game.”

Tom gave him a sharp look. “But you’re playing so well— ,” he started to say.

“Cut it out!” Michael hissed. “I’m not playing any better than you usually do. There’s only one difference: confidence. I’ve
got it, and you need to get it, because that’s what your teammates want from you.”

“Tom!” Coach Cotter barked. “Get over here and listen up!”

Michael stood up but gave Tom one last meaningful look before he rejoined the team.

The horn blared, signaling the end of the time-out. Michael hesitated, waiting to feel the vibrations that indicated Tom was
trying TEC. But no vibrations came.

Come on, Tom!
Michael’s mind called out. There was no reply.

Abe Abrams had the Cheetahs fired up as he led them down the field like an army on a triumphant march. Then, on the Eagles’
four-yard line, they were stopped, and stopped cold. Three line plunges and a pass try failed to get them into the end zone.

“T-forty-three drive! On two!” Michael ordered in the huddle.

The play went for two yards. The Cheetahs, too, were holding.

Michael’s forehead glistened with sweat as he faced the guys in the huddle.

“We’ve got to do it now or they’ll break through when they get the ball,” he said.

Suddenly, he felt the tingling. Tom was trying TEC! Michael immediately tuned in— and moments later found himself back in
his wheelchair.

Okay, Tom, go for it!
he urged silently.

As he watched, the huddle broke with a clap. Tom took the snap and stepped back into the pocket a couple of yards. Michael
realized he was planning to throw a long bomb. Both ends were sprinting down the field, Bob at the left side, Stan at the
right. Both were covered.

Then Stan buttonhooked in, and for a moment he was in the clear. Tom pulled his arm back and shot him a pass. The ball hit
Stan in the gut, and Stan took it from there. He galloped down the field like a horse running a close race, and made it with
yards to spare.

Cheetahs 20, Eagles 21! The Eagles were ahead by a point!

Moments later, the whistle blew. The game was over. The Eagles grabbed one another and cheered.

“One point, boy, that was close! But we won!” Jack cried, throwing his helmet into the air and catching it.

“Right!” said Lumpy.

“And you came through for us, Tom,” Vince said, turning to the quarterback and pumping his hand vigorously. “You got us to
tie up the score! Who would have thought a long bomb would work? But you called for it with such steel in your voice, I didn’t
even think about it. You’re okay, man!”

Tom grinned through the sweat that streamed down his face. “Thanks, Vince. But it wasn’t only me who did it.” He glanced over
at Michael and his grin broadened. “It was all of us.”

Michael winked.

Suddenly a girl sprang in front of Tom and threw her arms around him, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall. It
was Vickie, and Michael smiled. He wasn’t surprised. For a long time she might have been waiting for an opportunity to throw
her arms around Tom. What better time was there than now?

“Wasn’t he great?” a voice broke in beside Michael. “You must sure be proud of him, Michael.”

Michael glanced around at Carol, who was leaning against his wheelchair and resting a hand on it. Her dark eyes glistened
as they met his, and before he knew it, she threw an arm around his neck and hugged him.

His heart pumped like crazy as she took her arm away and looked at Tom, a smile beaming on her face.
Wow!
Michael thought.
What a surprise! Whatever made me think she was a creep, anyway?

Just then Michael saw a familiar figure coming toward them, a wide grin on his face.

“Nice game, boys,” Ollie Pruitt said.

“Thanks, Mr. Pruitt,” said Tom, and shook his hand.

Then Mr. Pruitt’s eyes met Michael’s,
and the old man winked. “How do you feel now, Michael?” he asked as they shook hands.

“Just great, Mr. Pruitt,” Michael answered proudly. “Just great, Thanks to you.”

Baseball Flyhawk	Dirt Bike Runaway
Baseball Pals	Dive Right In
Baseball Turnaround	Double Play at Short
The Basket Counts	Face-Off
Body Check	Fairway Phenom
Catch That Pass!	Football Fugitive
Catcher with a Glass Arm	Football Nightmare
Catching Waves	The Fox Steals Home