by Tiki Barber
Tiki smiled and nodded. Ronde was being a good teammate—acting like a true champion. Now, if he could go out there and play like himself for a few more seconds, the championship would be theirs!
With the Eagle time-out over, play started again. On second down, the Falcons’ quarterback dropped back, stopped, and fired a quick pass over the middle. He had a man open and waiting in the end zone—but good old Sam Scarfone got one of his beefy paws up in time to deflect it!
Third down now. The Eagles were only seven seconds from being state champions—but only four yards away from losing it all!
Tiki knew that if the Falcons didn’t score on this play, they’d call time-out and kick the field goal. But they also had to make sure the play didn’t eat up more than six seconds. To Tiki, that meant only one thing—a quick pass to the end zone, looking for their number one receiver—Ronde’s man.
Sure enough, there it came. This time, Ronde was waiting. He had dropped off his man, daring the quarterback to throw to him. Then he’d charged the receiver, ramming into him ferociously just as the ball arrived—and jarring it loose!
Now there were only two seconds left. The Falcons called their last time-out, and their kicking team came onto the field. If they nailed this easy, twenty-two-yard field goal, the game would be tied, and the two teams would go into sudden death overtime.
With Ronde already running on fumes, Tiki didn’t want to think what would happen if Fredericksburg won the coin toss and got the ball first.
It wasn’t a long field goal either. But on a day like this, with the field so slippery, no kick was a gimme. Tiki closed his eyes, but then opened them again—he had to see what happened!
The ball was snapped. The kick went up—and hit the upright! It bounced high in the air, and landed in front of the goalposts. No good!
The Eagles had done it! They were state champions!
Tiki screamed “YESSSS!!!” at the top of his lungs. He held his arms high and jumped up and down.
Suddenly, he was being lifted off the ground by a dozen strong arms. He was thrown from one teammate to another, all of them whooping and hollering and hugging one another like long-lost brothers.
Tiki finally found Ronde, and they grabbed each other, dancing around and around in a circle until they fell to the ground, laughing and screaming.
Soon the whole team had gathered in a circle and were hopping up and down, yelling and holding their helmets high. The few Eagle fans swarmed onto the field to join their heroes. The team members hugged band members, cheerleaders, and one another, tears of joy streaming down their faces.
Tiki went back over to the sidelines to find his helmet, which had somehow gotten lost in all the commotion. By the time he found it, the Eagles and their fans were gathering in the far end zone, where the people in charge had set up a platform, and were getting ready to present the trophy.
Tiki was alone on the side of the field. Well, almost. Over on the twenty yard line, he saw the Fredericksburg kicker, kneeling on the ground, his helmet off, grabbing his head with both hands.
Tiki’s heart went out to the poor kid. He’d missed a short field goal—one he probably would have made easily, except for the tremendous pressure and the slippery field—and he’d cost his team the championship.
Now none of the Falcons wanted to talk to him, or even look at him. They were far off on the other sideline. Some were crying. Some were hugging one another. Some were standing there dazed, staring at the crazy scene on the field, watching the Eagles celebrate a victory they were sure until the last second was going to be theirs.
“Hey, kid, you okay?” Tiki asked.
“Huh?” The kicker looked up, his face streaked with tears and dirt.
“That was a tough one, yo,” Tiki said. “A lot of pressure. Don’t blame yourself.”
“Are you kidding? I lost us the game!”
“It wasn’t just you. It’s never just one guy. This is a team sport, man. One team wins, and the other team loses. It could have been us just as easily.”
The boy nodded, then looked back down at the ground, still hurting.
Tiki put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” he said, “what grade are you in?”
“Eighth.”
“Well, look, you’ve still got next year. Keep your head up, and stay proud, and maybe we can do this whole thing again.”
The kicker looked up at Tiki, then got slowly to his feet. “Thanks, man,” he said, shaking Tiki’s hand. “Thanks for that.”
“Hey, I’ve messed up a few times myself. I cost us a game earlier this season.”
“Wow,” said the boy. “No kidding.” He managed a small smile as he offered Tiki his hand to shake. “So . . . see you back here next year?”
“You got it,” Tiki said, shaking his hand and smiling. “And don’t think we won’t whup you again.” He winked, and the boy laughed.
Then, with a wave, Tiki went off to join his teammates for the victory celebration of a lifetime!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAMPIONS
THE NEXT FORTY-EIGHT HOURS WERE A WHIRLWIND of happy celebrations, one following the other.
First, there was the on-field presentation of the trophy that crowned the Hidden Valley Eagles champions of the state of Virginia. The trophy had the state emblem on it, and the presenter (who was a real congressman!) told them that each of their names would be engraved on the side, so it could sit in the school’s trophy case forever.
Then there was the locker room celebration, in which each boy got to hold the trophy and rub it for good luck. There were lots of hugs, and even a few tears from Coach Wheeler, who told them, “Never forget this day, you guys. For the rest of your lives—and even if it never happens to you again—you can always say, ‘I was once a champion!’”
Then Cody said, “None of this would ever have happened without Coach Wheeler. I say he’s the MVP.”
Chants of “M-V-P!” and “Coach! Coach! Coach!” competed with each other, the noise bouncing off the tile walls of the locker room. Finally Coach Wheeler yelled for them to get showered and pack their bags, because they had a long ride home, and their fans were waiting to greet them at Hidden Valley Junior High.
Ronde shook his head in amazement. Early in the season, Cody and Coach had had their problems with each other, to say the least. It was crazy how much things had changed.
The bus ride flew by. The team members joked and laughed with one another all the way, singing stupid songs, and reminding each other of crazy moments during the season—moments that were funny now, but at the time they’d happened, were anything but.
Riding behind them was a caravan of parents in cars—first among them, Geraldine Barber.
Back at school, just as promised, a large crowd of kids, teachers, parents, and neighbors waited for them. It was cold but the sun was out, even if it was getting low in the western sky. Dr. Anand told them that she had scheduled a big pep rally for the next evening—after the last day of school, and just before the winter break.
It seemed the celebrations weren’t over yet!
The next morning’s Roanoke Reporter was on the table when Tiki and Ronde came down to breakfast. “I figured it might have something you boys would want to read,” their mom told them as she served them hot bowls of oatmeal with maple syrup. “So I brought it in for you to look at.”
Right on the front page, the biggest headline was EAGLES FLY HIGH!, and under that, STATE CHAMPIONSHIP FOR HIDDEN VALLEY JUNIOR HIGH!
The article recapped their whole season, with all its many twists and turns. It was so long, the boys had to turn to an inside page to read the rest. And right in the middle of that page was a photo of the two of them, from way back in Pee Wee League, wearing their purple Viking uniforms!
“Hey!” Tiki cried out. “What in the—?”
“Mom!” Ronde shouted. “Where’d they get this dumb old picture?”
She laughed, wagging her finger. “I wasn’t going to let my boys hide th
eir light under a bushel—and neither should you! Everything you achieved on the team this year, you earned the hard way. And that goes for all the Eagles! You really played proud, and you should be even prouder now.”
“Okay,” Ronde said, “but couldn’t you find a more recent picture? This one makes us look like we’re in kindergarten.”
She shrugged. “Sorry—it was the first one I found. There wasn’t a lot of time to go looking. Just make sure you get some good pictures taken at the pep rally tonight.”
The pep rally began with the band playing the Hidden Valley victory march. Then Dr. Anand stepped up to the podium, and made a speech about the Eagles’ incredible season.
Afterward, she invited first Coach Wheeler to speak. He went over a lot of the same stuff—how he’d stepped in just at the start of the season, how he’d had to win over the team, and convince them that watching video of themselves and their opponents was worthwhile, how proud he was of each of his Eagles, and how much he had enjoyed the challenge.
Listening to him, Ronde wondered if Coach Wheeler would be back next season. It was possible, he realized, that Coach Spangler would return from his temporary job at the high school.
Ronde felt torn—Coach Spangler was known as one of the best coaches in the state, at any level. On the other hand, he loved playing for Coach Wheeler, and they’d won a state title together.
“Now,” Wheeler went on, “I’d like to honor all our players who will be moving on to high school next year—they’ve been fantastic, and we’re all going to miss them, but we know they’re going on to bigger and better things. So, please stand up—Sam Scarfone . . . Cody Hansen . . . Fred Soule . . . Joe Gallagher . . . John Berra . . .” Applause filled the hall as each player got up and waved.
As the coach went on and on, Ronde realized with alarm that next year, their team would be much different—and much younger and less experienced. He and Tiki would be the true leaders of the team, and it would be up to them to set the example, if the Eagles hoped to repeat what was already being called their “Miracle Season.”
The ninth graders got a huge final standing ovation, followed by a quick salute from the band. Then Coach Wheeler spoke again.
“Now I want to talk a little about the future,” he said. “I believe it’s a bright one, in spite of all these great players we’ll be losing. I have faith in next year’s team, because I know there’ll be a lot of good talent arriving—but more than that, we have a great crop of kids returning. Adam Costa, Paco Rivera, Manny Alvaro . . .”
He named ten or twelve others, and then said, “In particular, we’ve got our two MVPs coming back—Tiki and Ronde Barber!” With that, and as the audience roared, he motioned for Tiki and Ronde to come up and join him at the podium.
Ronde got up, feeling embarrassed and awkward. He’d always been shy, but lately, he’d been getting over it some. Still, this moment, being honored as the MVP along with Tiki, was almost too much attention for him to take.
“Come on, yo!” Tiki said, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him along, down the bleacher steps and up to the podium.
As they got there, Coach Wheeler brought two trophies out from behind the podium and handed them to the twins. “Congratulations, guys,” he said, shaking each of their hands. “You deserve these, big-time. Right, team?”
The whole bench full of Eagles, along with every other person in the gym, got to their feet, stomped on the wooden bleachers, and chanted “Bar-ber! Bar-ber! Bar-ber!” until Coach Wheeler quieted them down again.
“These two guys have, between them, put the rest of us on their backs and carried us all the way home. I am so proud, not only of how they played, but of how they carried themselves all season. How they helped the team play as a unit, not as a bunch of quarreling kids. How they helped a teammate who needed help as much as the team needed him . . .”
Ronde knew Coach was talking about Adam, and his difficulties staying on the team because he was failing courses. He and Tiki had tutored Adam until he passed his tests and was allowed to play again.
“And finally, how they helped me to stick with a job that, in the beginning, I thought I might not be up to. So thank you, boys. Would you like to say a few words?”
He could not have said anything more horrifying. Ronde shrank back, his eyes going wide. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was say a few words!
“Not me, not me, please, not me,” Ronde said under his breath. He hated to be the focus of a whole crowd of people—unless he was playing football, of course.
“Which one of you wants to go first?” he asked them.
Tiki and Ronde looked at each other. Neither one of them wanted to speak, but the crowd was chanting their names, and wasn’t going to stop until they both said something.
“You go first,” Ronde said, giving Tiki a little shove.
“Me?”
“I’m more shy than you!”
“Are not!”
“Am too, and you know it, so just get up there!”
Tiki was about to argue further, but he knew Ronde was right.
“Okay, but you’ve gotta say something too.”
“I will! Just go!”
Tiki shot Ronde a put-upon look, then stepped up to the microphone. “I want to thank all my teammates and coaches,” he began. “We had a great team this year, and we did what we had to do to win.” That got a big cheer.
“I really learned a lot this season, and not just about football,” Tiki continued. “I learned what it takes to win, and to succeed. But I also learned that sometimes, you don’t win. Sometimes you fall short. And sometimes, of all the people on your team, it’s your fault more than anyone’s. I learned that when that happens, you’ve got to pick yourself back up and play prouder than ever.”
He paused. As he did, Ronde looked across the gym to where their mom was sitting. She was weeping, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Aw, Mom,” Ronde said under his breath, shaking his head with affection.
“There was this kid in the last game,” Tiki said to the suddenly hushed crowd. “He was the other team’s kicker, and he missed the kick that would have tied the game. They lost, and that was the end of their season, and he felt like—well, you can just imagine. But I told him to keep on going, to keep his head up—because I’d been there too, and well, look where I am today! Look where we all are today!”
That was it—the room totally exploded in cheers, tears, and hugs all around. Ronde thought for a moment that everyone would forget he was also supposed to speak—but no such luck. Soon, they were chanting “Ron-de! Ron-de!” and Tiki was shoving him toward the mike.
Ronde cleared his throat, and the room settled down. “I just want to say—” His voice broke—it had started doing that a lot lately—and the whole room cracked up. At first, Ronde wanted to sink into the ground. But after a minute, he realized they were laughing with him, not at him. So he continued.
“We had a great year this year. All of us. And we did it for all of you guys—for Hidden Valley Junior High!”
The room broke out in a big cheer, and Ronde couldn’t help grinning. Hey, he thought, maybe this public speaking stuff isn’t so bad after all!
With the crowd only half quiet, he finished his short but stirring speech: “We had a great season, all right—but Hidden Valley, just wait till NEXT year! You ain’t seen nothing yet!”