The Roar of the Crowd (4 page)

There
was
plenty of time, but Hudson City couldn’t do much with it. Two passes fell incomplete, and a third went for little yardage. On fourth down, DiMarco threw another long, wobbly pass that was knocked down by the cornerback. South Bergen ran out the clock, and Hudson City lost, 14–7.

“We’re dead,” Donald said to Manny. “That was all our fault.”

“I know,” Manny said. “We blew it.”

Coach Reynolds gathered the team around him. “All right, guys, we have some work to do,” he said. “Our defense was outstanding. The offense needs a bit of fine-tuning, but we’ll be okay. Special teams . . . well, we may have to make a few changes there. But that was a very good football team we lost to tonight. We gave them a tough battle. Have a great weekend, and we’ll get back to work on Monday.”

M
anny looked at his half-eaten slice of pizza and set it on the plate. The bite in his mouth was as thick as paste. He swallowed hard and shook his head, looking around the restaurant.

“Cheer up, Manny,” Donald said. “We’ll practice hard all week and be better next time.”

Manny let out a heavy exhale. “Didn’t you hear what he said? Changes on the special teams. Who would
you
change if you were the coach? You’d start with the guy who got run over on both kickoffs.”

Manny’s dad patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe not,” he said. “Maybe he just meant a different approach, a different strategy.”

“Yeah,” Donald said. “He never said he’d use different players.”

Manny rolled his eyes. “Forget it,” he said. “I’m benched. I screwed up.”

“They’d never bench you, Manny,” Sal said. “You’re the best player on the team!”

Manny gave a half-hearted laugh. “Thanks, Sal.”

“You’ll feel better if you eat,” said Mom. “You’ve hardly eaten anything all day.”

Manny loved the pizza at the Grotto, but tonight it tasted like cardboard. He knew he’d failed miserably in his first football game. He knew he’d cost his team the game.

“I’m not hungry, Mom,” he said. “Maybe we can take some of this home and I’ll eat it later.”

“You’re feeling all right, though?” she asked. “I hate to see you looking so down.”

“I feel fine, Mom. I’m just mad. I’m not five years old, you know. I won’t fall apart from being angry.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, chewing their pizza. Finally Sal spoke up.

“I’m five, Manny,” he said. “And I won’t fall apart. I’ll be just as mad as you are, okay? We’ll both stay mad until the next game. Then you’ll make that tackle.”

Manny reached across the table. He shook his brother’s hand and said, “Okay, Sal, it’s a deal. We’ll both stay just a little bit mad all week. And if the coach gives me another chance, I’ll be sure not to screw it up.”

If
the coach gave him another chance. Manny knew that was no sure thing.

 

Manny’s appetite was back by Sunday morning, and he ate a huge breakfast before church. But all during the sermon he thought about those kickoffs, how he’d been so overpowered by the blockers.

He was quiet in the car during the ride home.

“The Giants are on at one,” Dad said. “Playing the Cowboys. Should be a good one.”

“Yeah,” Manny said. “I’m gonna go for a run first. Over to the track.”

“Don’t you need a rest?” Dad asked. “You’re not tired from the game?”

Manny rolled his eyes. “I was only in for two plays,” he said. “And I spent most of the time on the ground.”

Manny needed to burn off some energy, but he also needed to think. Running would be a good way to do that. He changed into a gray Yankees tank top and a pair of soccer shorts and jogged to the high school field, right where he’d played the night before. The stadium was empty now, but the gate was open.

Manny was warm already, so he began running quickly around the hard-rubber track. As he reached the back straightaway, he fell into thinking about those kickoffs again. He took a sidestep to avoid an imaginary blocker, then dodged ahead in a sprint. Here came another blocker, and Manny lowered his shoulder to take the blow, then pushed off and continued on his way.

He reached the turn and ran a little slower, taking a deep breath of the warm, moist air. Then he got to the front stretch and started moving fast again, seeing those blockers coming toward him, scrambling out of their way. This was fun. He imagined that the crowd was cheering as he blasted toward the ball carrier, whacking him hard and knocking the ball from his grasp. He scooped up the loose ball and raced toward the end zone, flying in untouched for a score.

Manny ran eight laps like that, two full miles, jogging on the turns and sprinting on the straightaways. He was sweating heavily and panting hard, but he felt good now. He’d be ready next time. He wouldn’t go down so easily.

He wasn’t big, but he was quick. He’d have to avoid getting hit by the bigger blockers, or dodge enough to minimize the impact. Playing smart was just as important as playing tough. He could take the hits, but maybe next time he’d get the chance to dish one out instead.

“A
t least we’re keeping our uniforms clean,” Donald said to Manny as they kneeled on the sideline at Monday’s practice. Except for some warm-up laps and calisthenics, the subs hadn’t had much to do.

Coach Reynolds had kept his starters in for the entire scrimmage, hoping to build more consistency in the offense. He hadn’t said much about the loss to South Bergen, just that he hoped his team had learned a few things in the game and that there was still a long season ahead.

“We might even meet them again in the playoffs,” Coach said. “I think we’ve got the best defense in the league. If we can establish a running game over the next few weeks, then we’ll be a tough team to beat.”

Nothing had been mentioned about the special teams, but maybe that would come later in the week.

“Think we’re still on the kickoff team?” Manny asked Donald.

Donald just shrugged. “Don’t know. I started worrying about it Saturday night though. A lot. I threw up that pizza when I got home.”

“I probably would have, too, if I’d eaten any,” Manny said. “I felt better yesterday after I ran. I just needed to do something, you know? There was nobody to hit, so I just ran my butt off.”

“I watched TV all afternoon,” Donald said. “That didn’t help much.”

“Giants won.”

“I saw it.”

Manny kicked at the dirt. “Think we’ll get in today?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

They stayed put for fifteen more minutes until the coach blew his whistle, then ran three laps with the rest of the team. Manny finished well ahead of everyone else again, having plenty of unused energy.

“I’m supposed to be gaining weight,” Manny said after the run, walking off the field with Anthony. “If all I do is run, I’ll never put on any pounds.”

“Maybe you could run behind me and pick up all the weight I’m shedding,” Anthony said with a grin. “I’m down five pounds since last Monday.” Anthony patted his belly. “But I’m constantly hungry.”

“Me, too,” Manny said. “You’ve just got a bigger place to hold the food.”

“Yeah, but it’s getting smaller,” Anthony said. “See you tomorrow at school.”

Donald and Manny walked toward home, carrying their cleats in their helmets. The air was less humid as autumn approached, but the days were still quite warm.

“We getting something to eat?” Donald asked.

“Yeah. But I’m not going in there if you’re going to rip them off again.”

“I won’t,” Donald said. “I told my dad about that apple pie and he made me go back and pay for it.”

“Really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was any big deal.”

“What did they say at the store when you went back?” Manny asked.

“Not much,” Donald said. “I didn’t exactly tell them what happened. I just handed the guy at the cash register a dollar and said they’d undercharged me for something. He goes ‘Well, it’s great to meet an honest young man.’ I just smiled and walked out. Mr. Honesty.”

Manny laughed. “I almost went back and paid them
for
you. I figured I was just as guilty for letting you do it.”

They’d reached the grocery store. Manny reached into his sock and took out a dollar bill. “My mom’s making rice and beans for dinner. I can pig out on that. All I need right now is a soda.”

“Me, too,” Donald said. “I wanna get home. I’ve got a ton of homework.”

“Think we’ll spend the rest of the season sitting on our butts?” Manny asked.

“I don’t know. Coach Reynolds is a good guy. I think he
wants
to let everybody play. We just have to take advantage when we do. We’ve got another tough game this week, and he wants to make sure the starters are ready for it.”

“Well, if we’re going to be benchwarmers, at least we’re getting good practice for that,” Manny said with a laugh.

They walked down the aisle and Manny picked up a box of Frosted Flakes. “Sal loves this stuff,” he said.

“Me, too,” Donald said. “I eat it by the handful right out of the box.”

They walked around the store, looking at the piles of apples and pears and stopping to stare at the big bags of pretzels and potato chips. When they’d made it back to the cash registers, they each got a bottle of soda and continued on their way.

Across the street, in the field behind St. Joseph’s Church, Manny could see his old soccer team practicing. “Let’s go over there for a minute,” he said.

They crossed the Boulevard and walked onto the field, stopping next to the young priest who coached the squad.

“Hey, Father Lou,” Manny said.

“Hey, guys,” the priest said. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad.”

“We could use you, Manny. Not enough speed in the midfield this year.”

Manny nodded. “I may be back next season. You never know.”

They watched the players on the field, moving the ball quickly back and forth. The parish team was always good, but Manny could tell they were a bit less skilled than usual.

“How’s football going?” Father Lou asked.

“It’s fun,” Manny said. “But we don’t play that much.”

“We’re specialists,” Donald said.

Father Lou smiled. “That’s important, too.”

A fifth grader came racing down the field, dribbling the ball with skill and feinting past two defenders. He made a nice centering pass to a teammate, who booted the ball into the goal. Father Lou clapped his hands and said, “Nice one, fellas. That’s the way.”

Donald grabbed Manny’s sleeve and gave a tug. “We gotta get going,” he said.

“Yeah,” Manny said, still staring at the field. “See ya, Father.”

“Thanks for stopping by, boys.”

“Okay.”

Manny looked back as they reached the fence. The soccer players had started scrimmaging again.

“I’d be a starter on that team,” Manny said.

Donald shrugged. “You could probably still get on the team . . . if you wanted to.”

Manny stood still for a moment. He looked over at Father Lou. “Nah,” he finally said. “I don’t quit at anything. And I like football. Even if I hardly ever play.”

They walked toward home, a little more slowly than usual.

“I figured we’d make our mark on the kickoff team, then get more and more playing time on defense,” Manny said. “Looks like the opposite is happening. We messed up our chances on the kickoff team, and now we’ll be doing nothing the rest of the season.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Donald said. “Look, give it another week. If we don’t start playing again, at least in practice, then we’ll
ask
for another shot. Besides, we don’t even know yet if we’re off the kickoff team or not. He still didn’t say that we were.”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Manny said. “But it sure didn’t look good for us today.”

S
al was waiting, as usual, on the front steps of the house as Manny walked up the block. When he saw his big brother coming, he ran up the sidewalk to meet him.

“Hi, Sal, how’s it going?” Manny said, bending down to give his brother a hug.

“I was worried,” Sal said.

“About what?”

“About football practice,” Sal said. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

Manny put his hand on Sal’s shoulder as they began to walk. “No trouble,” Manny said. “I didn’t get to do much today, but nobody yelled at me.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. Here, you can carry my helmet.”

“Are we still mad, Manny?”

Manny laughed. “I don’t think so, buddy. Determined, but not mad. We’ll get another chance . . . I think.”

“You’ll clobber ’em, Manny.”

“You said it, Sal.”

“Did you make any great plays today?” Sal asked.

“No. I didn’t do much of anything. Coach was working with the starters all day. We’ve got another tough game this week.”

They entered the kitchen and Manny gave his mom a hug.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said. “We’re running late. I had a meeting and your dad’s swamped with work, so dinner won’t be for a while.”

“That’s okay,” Manny said. “Me and Sal will set the table and do whatever else you need. I’ll get cleaned up first.”

“That’s great.”

After he showered, Manny sat on the bedroom floor with Sal and helped him build a tower with Legos.

“How come we’re not big, Manny?” Sal asked.

“I don’t know. We just aren’t. Dad’s small. Mom’s small. So we are, too.”

“I’m gonna be giant,” Sal said. “I’m gonna be a quarterback.”

Manny laughed. “Don’t count on it. Dad weighs less than some of the guys on my team, and they’re only in sixth grade.”

“I’ll lift weights.”

“That’s good. But small guys can do a lot of things, Sal. We’re usually faster, too.”