by Tiki Barber
They were sitting at the breakfast table, wolfing down the eggs their mom had made them before taking off for work. Tiki had about five minutes before he had to run for the school bus.
Ronde, though, was still house-bound. His spots were at their peak, and the only thing that cheered him up was the hope that they would go away before Saturday afternoon’s big game in Richmond.
“‘Somehow, the Eagles managed to win without Tiki Barber, their star running back,’” Tiki read on. “‘The victory was largely due to the heroics of Ronde Barber on pass defense. Rumor has it that Tiki has now passed the chicken pox to his twin, who will have to miss the championship game. Can Tiki step it up and score enough touchdowns to make up for the loss of his brother? Only time will tell, but these must be nervous times in the Barber house.’” Tiki looked up. “Right again.”
“Ha. No pressure, though.”
Tiki chuckled. “Don’t worry, yo. I’ve got this handled. Trust me.”
“What are you gonna do, switch uniforms back and forth and pretend to be both of us?”
“You think I couldn’t do it?”
“I think you couldn’t get away with it,” Ronde corrected him.
“Mm, probably not. Anyway, you stepped up for me, so I’m gonna do the same for you.”
“You’re not gonna have to,” Ronde insisted. “I’m gonna play in the game.”
“You hope so.”
“I know so.”
“What do you mean, you know so? How do you know? Can you see the future?”
“Dude, I just know,” Ronde insisted. “I’m gonna beat this thing in record time.”
“Well,” said Tiki, gathering up his book bag and taking his dishes to the sink, “I wish you luck.” He paused at the back door. “No—I wish us all luck.”
When the team left for Richmond on a pair of buses that Friday morning—one for the players, the other for the band and cheerleaders—Ronde was not with them. He was much better—his spots were less obvious, and his fever was gone—but he was still a couple of days away from not being contagious, and being able to play football.
The team, the band, and the cheerleaders had all been given the day off from school to make this trip, and they were super-excited—all except for Tiki. Without Ronde on this journey with him, he felt incomplete, like he was missing a part of himself.
Mrs. Barber drove Tiki to the school parking lot and waved good-bye as the bus pulled out. She had originally planned to travel with the team—several parents were being chaperones, which gave them the chance to be there in the state capital when their Eagles fought for glory.
Mrs. Barber had even arranged to take Friday and Saturday off from work—but now, of course, with Ronde staying behind, her coming to Richmond was out of the question. She would stay home with her sick child instead.
The mood on the bus was lighthearted, all the kids joking with one another, singing funny songs, and seeing who could make the grossest noises. Unlike in school or at practice, Mr. Wheeler and the other coaches seemed to be okay with a certain amount of fooling around.
Still, Tiki knew that underneath all the goofiness, there was a shadow hanging over the team. Five or six players, including Tiki, still had red areas on their faces and arms that showed where their spots had been. These marks would take weeks to fade, Tiki knew. Even John Berra, the first to come down with the chicken pox, still had a few left over.
But it was Ronde’s absence that was the real threat to the team. Thinking back, Tiki was able to count at least eight times this season where Ronde had been the difference between defeat and victory—including their last game. He was far and away their best defender—and Fredericksburg was bound to be the toughest team the Eagles had faced.
In the history of Hidden Valley, only one team had ever won a state championship, and that was way back in 1943! If they won tomorrow, they’d be the biggest celebrities in Roanoke! Tiki imagined a huge parade right through the heart of downtown, with the Eagles riding in convertibles, waving to their thousands of happy fans. . . .
Poor Ronde, he thought. He sure hoped his twin would be well enough to ride in the parade, if they had one. Funny—last week, he’d been the object of everybody’s pity. How lucky he’d been that the Eagles had survived that game without him!
Would Ronde be as lucky?
The drive to Richmond took several hours, including a stop for lunch. When they finally got there, the buses drove them straight to the campus of Richmond University. They got off and were led to their rooms, which were usually used as dormitories for the college students who lived on campus. It was winter break for the college, so the dorms were empty. So was most of the campus, with only a few people walking around in the sunny, cold afternoon.
Their trip, their stay, their food and lodging, were all being paid for by the Virginia School Athletic Commission. Tiki couldn’t help feeling like a VIP—a very important person. “Yeah, I could get used to this,” he said, nodding and smiling.
After they’d unpacked their bags (Tiki was put in a room with Paco, his old buddy from Pee Wee League), the team walked over to the football field where tomorrow afternoon’s game was to take place. This was where the University of Richmond football team played their home games.
“Whoa,” Tiki said under his breath. There was room for thousands of people in these bleachers! One of the groundskeepers told him that the game was a sellout. All those stands would be packed with people, most of them rooting for Fredericksburg, which was much closer to Richmond than Roanoke was.
Tiki sure wished his mom had been able to make the trip. With her there, he knew the cheers for the Eagles would have been heard, no matter how many Falcon fans tried to drown her out.
They practiced lightly, and then Coach Wheeler gathered them on the sideline. “Okay, listen up. Fredericksburg is a real powerhouse, as we’ve already discussed. Best record in the state, tops in almost every category. Six-point favorites. Well, never mind all that. If we could beat the chicken pox to get this far, we can beat them, too!”
Everyone whooped and clapped, laughing.
“You all know your assignments, how we’re going to approach the game,” Wheeler went on. “I just want to address one other thing—the hype.”
“The hype?” Paco repeated, not getting it.
“See those folks over in the stands? Those are reporters—newspapers, local radio and TV stations from here, and Roanoke, and everywhere else in the state. They’re all dying to talk to you—so I wanted to make sure I got to you first.
“Whatever you do, don’t say anything that could get back to the Falcons. No bragging, no guarantees of victory, no dissing the other team, no clues to our strategy—nothing but the usual ‘blah-blah-blah.’ Just tell them we’re here to win, to give it our best against a great team, and to show our pride in Hidden Valley, and in Roanoke. Understood?”
They all said yes, though Tiki could tell some of them were excited. Not many of the Eagles had been interviewed before, and none of them had ever been on TV. This was going to be more attention than any of them had ever known.
“It’s all about the game,” Wheeler finished. “Just keep your focus on that. Everything else is unimportant. Got it?”
They got it, all right. But Tiki knew some of them would surely get carried away by all the—what was the word Coach had used? Oh, yeah—the hype.
Tiki wasn’t worried about himself, though. He was much less excited than the others, and it was all because of Ronde. Nothing was the same without his twin, and Tiki found it hard to fully enjoy the moment.
Besides, how were the Eagles supposed to win without their best defensive player? Without the kid who ran back all their kickoffs and punts?
Wait a minute. Tiki had forgotten all about that part! Who was going to—?
At that very moment, Coach Wheeler approached him. “Tiki!”
“Yes, Coach?”
“Listen, I’ve been thinking about it, and I want you to run back all the k
icks tomorrow.”
“What?!” It was like he’d read Tiki’s mind!
“Who better than you to step up and take your brother’s place?”
“Well, what about Joey Gallagher—he did it once early in the season, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he’s cut out for it. He’s too big a target. I’d rather have a smaller, quicker guy with great moves give it a try. So what do you say?”
Tiki tried to say something, but his mouth was suddenly so dry he couldn’t speak.
“Okay, then?” Wheeler asked.
Tiki nodded slowly. I’m a dead man, he thought.
When he’d foolishly promised his brother a victory, it hadn’t occurred to Tiki that he’d have to be anything else than a running back.
What if he fumbled a kick? What if he lost the game for the Eagles by making a mistake while doing Ronde’s job?
It would be the worst nightmare of his whole life!
“Oh, and one more thing,” Wheeler said. “The weather forecast for tomorrow is for rain all day. The field will probably be soaked, and slippery. So take care of the ball, all right? We can’t afford to fumble it away.”
Tiki nodded again, still unable to get a word out.
“Okay, then. Time for your close-up, Tiki.” Wheeler waved to the TV reporters, who grabbed their cameras and hurried over to the Eagles to get their interviews.
Tiki didn’t talk much with the press. Even after a drink of water, he still couldn’t think of anything clever to say. He was too worried about tomorrow’s game—more worried than any of his teammates. After all, he was the only one who’d be playing a position he’d never even practiced at. Besides, it was up to him to step up for his sick brother, and lead the team to victory.
That night, as Tiki went to bed, he wished for a miracle—because he was sure that’s what it was going to take to save the Eagles.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A MIRACLE
RONDE SAT AT HIS BEDROOM DESK, HIS CHIN propped up by both hands, leaning on his elbows and staring out the window.
It was Saturday afternoon, 2:45. In fifteen minutes, Tiki and the rest of the Eagles would take the field for the game of their lives. They would win, or lose, without him. Ronde stared out at the cold, gray December day. Snowflakes were falling, but nothing was sticking to the ground. The day looked like he felt—miserable.
Downstairs, he heard his mom getting ready to go to work. She was making a lot of noise—putting his dinner in the fridge, complete with written instructions for him on how to prepare each dish. Today, like every Saturday, she would work from three to nine at her second job. She had told her boss she needed to take the day off to go to Richmond. But after Ronde got sick, she’d called back to say she’d be coming in after all.
If he hadn’t come down with the stupid chicken pox, Ronde thought sadly, his mom would have been with him and Tiki in Richmond, taking two whole days off from work to be with her boys while they fought for the state championship.
Instead, she had to go to work, and he’d be alone in the house with his misery. He would tune the radio to the local news station, which was going to broadcast the game live from Richmond—that’s how big this whole Eagle phenomenon had grown.
Ronde wished he could take a big giant eraser and scrub his face and body with it till all those stupid spots were gone. No matter how much it would hurt, he’d go ahead and do it, just so he could play in the game today.
He sighed, and sunk his chin deeper into his hands. What was he thinking? Even if he had a giant magical eraser, it wouldn’t matter—it would be too late to get there anyway. Richmond was five hours away. By the time he arrived, the game would be over.
Unless, of course, he also had a teleporter to beam him to Richmond in an instant. Like they did on Star Trek. But of course, there was no such thing. Nor was there any magic chicken-pox eraser.
No, what Ronde needed wasn’t any of those things. What he needed was a miracle. But there weren’t very many of them in real life either, he knew.
There was a soft knock at his door. He hadn’t noticed his mom come up the stairs, but there she was now, looking at him with a sorry expression on her face.
“I have to go,” she said softly. “You going to be all right?”
Ronde sighed again. He just couldn’t stop sighing for the life of him. “I’m okay.”
“You going to listen to the game?” she asked, nodding toward the radio that was sitting on the desk next to him.
“I guess so . . . maybe not, though.”
She came over and kissed his head. “You do whatever you want to, Ronde. It’s a real shame you can’t be there, and I know how badly you feel about it. But there’ll be other games, believe me.”
“Yeah, right,” Ronde said, his frustration beginning to show. He knew she was probably right—but what if he never got to play in another championship game? He would have missed his one and only chance!
“Your spots look better. Almost good enough to play football. Too bad they didn’t look that good yesterday.”
He sighed for the thousandth time.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even have mentioned it. But you do look much better.”
“Too late,” he said.
“Well. I’ll be back by nine-thirty. Dinner’s—”
“I know, Ma,” he told her, sounding slightly annoyed in spite of himself. He wasn’t mad at her—he was mad at the world, and his own lousy luck.
“Well, bye-bye, baby,” she said, kissing him on the head again. “I’ve got to go.”
“Love you, Mom,” he said, hugging her, and fighting the urge to burst into tears.
“Be strong, Ronde. There are worse things in life, believe me.”
“I know it,” he said, “but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Of course not.” She kissed him again, and left the room.
He sat there, listening as her footsteps went down the stairs and out the front door. It closed with a thud, and then the house was completely silent.
He sat there, drinking it in. The only sound was the splash of cars driving down the wet street. He looked at the clock. Almost three o’clock.
Ronde had to know. He had to. He reached out and turned on the radio.
“. . . Instead, we’ll be returning you to our usual broadcast, the Saturday Financial Week in Review.”
“Huh?” What was going on? Had they decided not to broadcast the game? Why? He was sure more people were interested in the championship game than some dumb financial show!
“. . . Again, the state championship game between our own Hidden Valley Eagles and the Fredericksburg Falcons has been postponed until tomorrow at eleven a.m., due to the ice storm that hit the Richmond area this morning. We’ll be bringing it to you live, with pre-game starting at 10:30. . . .”
Ronde shot up out of his seat. “MOM!” he shouted. “MOM!”
He ran to the window and yanked it open, then stuck his head out and yelled to her as she backed out of the driveway in their old station wagon. “MOM! WAIT!!!”
She had finished backing out, and was about to pull away when she saw him leaning halfway out the window and hit the brakes. Pulling back into the driveway, she got out and yelled, “Ronde! What are you doing? Do you want to fall and break your neck? Get back inside!”
“MOM!” he yelled, his face breaking out into a gigantic smile. “The game was postponed till tomorrow! There was an ice storm in Richmond!”
“Oh, my goodness!” she said, realizing at once what he was getting at, and why he was grinning at her like a boy whose greatest wish has just come true. “Just a minute, I’m coming inside.”
He flew down the stairs and met her in the living room. He was jumping up and down and his hands were flailing all around him. “Mom! It’s a miracle! Now I can play in the game after all!”
“Just a minute now,” she said, holding up a hand. “Calm down and let me think about this. . . .”
“Mom, y
ou said I was all better—”
“I said you were MUCH better, not ALL better,” she reminded him.
“By tomorrow I’ll be totally over it!” he said, tugging at her coat.
“I don’t know,” she said. Then, seeing the pained look on his face, she gave in. “Oh, well, I suppose it’s worth the chance.”
“Yesss!” he hissed, pumping a fist in triumph.
“You go pack yourself a bag while I phone my boss. And don’t forget to pack a toothbrush! Ronde! Do you hear me?”
But he was already up the stairs and into his closet, dragging out the cardboard suitcase he still had from the time they’d gone to Washington, D.C., for a visit when he and Tiki were in fourth grade.
Downstairs, he heard his mom on the phone, and stopped what he was doing for a moment.
“Yes, I know I said I could come in after all,” she was saying. “But things have changed, and I need to get to Richmond. . . . Yes, it is an emergency . . . . That’s a private family matter, and I’d rather not go into it. . . . Well, I’m sorry if it’s not convenient, but I’ll be happy to make it up in overtime after the holidays. . . .”
Gee, thought Ronde. He sure hoped he wasn’t getting his mom into trouble at work. He knew they needed every penny she made to pay the family’s bills. She worked so hard, and took care of the two of them as well as any mom in the world. And now she was making her boss mad, and losing pay, just to take him to Richmond so he could play—maybe—in the big game.
Ronde swore to himself that as soon as he was old enough to get working papers, he’d get a job and turn over every penny he made to his mom. And if he ever achieved his greatest dream and made it to the NFL, he was going to treat her like the Queen of the Universe—because as far as he was concerned, that’s what she was.
Mrs. Barber poked her head in the door. “There, that’s done.” Then she saw him staring at her. “What are you doing, standing there like a fool?” she asked. “We’ve got no time to waste, Ronde—we’ve got to get on the road if we’re going to get to Richmond in time!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE GAME OF THEIR LIVES