by Rich Wallace
“Crap,” Manny muttered.
“Sorry,” said big Anthony Martin, lying under Manny after making the block. Manny’s legs were on Anthony’s back.
“Some friend,” Manny joked.
“No friends on defense,” Anthony said with a grin as he shook Manny off of him.
Manny got to his feet and scurried back into position for the next play. He looked around—it was late in the day. How much playing time would he get? The coach hadn’t done anything about special teams yet.
The second-string quarterback came jogging onto the field, so Manny figured there’d be at least a few more plays. This guy had a strong arm but not much accuracy, and he couldn’t run as fast as DiMarco. He’d probably stick to a short passing game. Good work for the linebackers.
The guy called signals. Manny took a step back. The ball was snapped and the tight end angled quickly toward the middle of the field. Manny bolted over, but the pass was already there. He wrapped his arms tightly around the receiver and struggled to pull him down, slowing him enough that Donald could race over and finish the job. But the offense had made a first down.
Donald pulled Manny up. “Watch for that,” he said. “That’s his favorite play. If I see it coming I’ll give him a shot to slow him down. They’ll run it again. Just watch.”
A couple of running plays moved the ball ahead about 6 yards. It was third and four with the ball about 15 yards short of the end zone. Donald looked over and nodded.
The play began, and here came that tight end again. Donald slowed him slightly, but he was coming fast and looking at the quarterback. Manny shot in front of him as the ball came firing toward them. He got a hand on the ball and it deflected high, bonking off the tight end’s shoulder pads and floating in the air. Manny leaped and grabbed it, coming down on one foot and pivoting quickly.
The tight end was off balance and Manny slipped away, trying to go wide and get out of the chaos. Two players got their hands on him, but he managed to pull free and raced toward the sideline, cutting upfield. Jason Fiorelli was all over him though and quickly brought him down.
Fiorelli grinned at Manny as he pinned him to the ground. “Big-time interception,” he said.
“We saw that play coming a mile away,” Manny said.
“Yeah,” Fiorelli said, shaking his head. “We’re predictable, all right.”
Coach Reynolds blew the whistle. “Nice job, defense,” he said. “That’s it for today. You eleven guys on defense line up at midfield. Everybody else take two laps and we’ll see you back here tomorrow.”
Manny and the others walked to midfield to wait for the coach.
“What’s going on?” one of them asked.
“Special teams, I think,” Donald said. “Probably the kickoff.”
Donald was right. The coach set down his clipboard and rubbed his hands together in glee. “All right, gentlemen,” he said. “There’s a reason I had you out there together at the end of the scrimmage. To make you feel like a unit. You’re about to participate in the most exciting play in football—the kickoff. You guys get to go full speed, full power, full throttle, and show the other team what we’re made of. Let’s do it!”
He lined up the eleven players across the field. Manny was the next-to-last man on the left side of the field, with Donald closest to the sideline.
“The end runs a box and in,” Coach said to Donald. “Straight down the sideline and then straight across at about the twenty.
“You,” he said, pointing to Manny, “go straight down, but angle in toward the ball carrier. If all goes right, this man next to you”—he pointed to Donald—“has the sideline cut off. The guy has nowhere to go but up the middle. He’ll want to cut toward the sideline, so at least half the time it’ll be you—or you”—he pointed to the guy one in from the other sideline—“who’s got the first shot at making the tackle.”
They ran through the motions a few times, with the coach hollering instructions to each player. “Monday we’ll do it live, with a receiving team out there,” he said. “Not bad for a first time tonight. But we’ll need a lot of work before next Saturday’s game.”
The game. Under the lights at home. If Hudson City kicked off to start the game, Manny would be on the field for the opening play.
5
All About Sports
Sal was up before six on the first day of school, eager to start kindergarten. Manny wanted to sleep, but he rolled out of bed at Sal’s pleading and the brothers went downstairs. Dad was having coffee before leaving for work.
“I don’t usually get company from you two so early,” Dad said with a smile. “You must be excited about starting school.”
Manny yawned. “I could do without it for a few more weeks,” he said. “But this guy has been counting the seconds since midnight.”
“I’m wearing my new sneakers,” Sal said, climbing onto his father’s lap. “And I already know how to read.”
“I know,” Dad said. “You’ll be a lawyer or something before you know it.”
“Or a football player,” Sal said. “Like Manny.”
“That reminds me,” Manny said. “I’m hungry. What should we eat, Sal?”
“Cereal.”
“Cereal. Yeah, I guess.”
Mom came into the kitchen just then. “You’re an early group,” she said.
“We’re working men,” Sal said. “Today’s the first day of school.”
“I know,” Mom said enthusiastically. “I’m going in to work late so I can drop you off, Sal.”
“I thought Manny was going to walk me.”
“He’ll do that most days,” Mom said. “Today is special. I’ll probably cry when I drop you off.”
“Not me,” Sal said.
Mom gave Sal a kiss on the top of his head. “I know you won’t,” she said. “You’ll be brave like Manny.” . . .
Manny fidgeted in his seat and looked at the clock. Just three minutes left in the first day of school. He couldn’t wait to get out of there. Even the teacher was eager for the day to end—he’d halted class a few minutes early and told the kids to just look over their books and assignments.
Manny turned to big Anthony in the seat behind him. Anthony was looking through a magazine. He was nearly twice Manny’s weight and fit tightly into a sixth-grade desk. The league weight limit was 155 pounds, and Anthony still had a few pounds to lose in order to be eligible.
“Anything good in there?” Manny asked.
“Some nice cars,” Anthony said.
“Any sports articles?” Other kids his age were into music and clothing and cars, but for Manny it was all about sports.
“Not really.” Anthony shrugged and closed the magazine. “You gain any weight?” he asked.
“I think I put on a pound or two,” Manny said.
“You lose any?”
Anthony gave an embarrassed smile. “About as much as you gained,” he said. “I’m still three pounds over. I gotta starve myself the rest of the week.”
Any suspect player had to be weighed in front of the opposing coaches right before every game. Anthony had been eight pounds too heavy when practice sessions started. Coach said he was bringing a scale to practice this afternoon. Anthony would be running a lot this week.
Anthony yawned and ran his hand over his short, bristly hair. “Practicing in that heat is wiping me out, Manny,” he said. “I’m beat all the time.”
“I don’t have that problem,” Manny said. “I’m spending too much time just watching you guys. I’ve got energy to spare.”
“Yeah,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “You don’t play because you’re too small, and I might not play because I’m too big.”
The bell rang and Manny walked into the hallway and toward his locker. He could see Donald up ahead. They didn’t have any classes together, but their lockers were next to each other on the second floor. Manny squeezed past a group of kids moving slowly and hurried to catch up to Donald.
“Slow down,
young man,” said a teacher.
Manny nodded and slowed down for about two steps. Then he caught Donald at the doorway to the stairs.
“One day down, a hundred eighty-one to go,” Manny said.
“Can you believe I have homework in three subjects?” Donald said. “First day of school.”
“Me, too,” Manny said. “Well, in two of them we just have to put covers on the book.”
“I’m wiped out,” Donald said. “How do we get out of practice?”
“Why would you want to do that? Kickoff team, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”
They reached their lockers, but Manny’s was occupied. Sherry Allegretta was leaning against it, chewing gum and looking at her watch.
“Excuse me,” Manny said.
“You’re excused.” Sherry stared at him for a few seconds, then frowned and looked away.
“That’s my locker.”
“So?”
“I need to get in there.”
Sherry sighed and rolled her eyes. She pushed away from the locker with her elbows and then leaned on the one next to it.
Manny worked his locker combination and tried not to lean into Sherry. She smelled strongly of gum and lip gloss. He could only open the locker about halfway because she was still taking up part of the space.
“Watch it,” she said when Manny bumped her with the locker.
“You’re in the way.”
“I’m waiting for somebody.”
“Well, can you wait, like, six inches farther over?”
Sherry sighed loudly again. “There he is anyway,” she said as Jason Fiorelli walked down the hallway. Jason was a sports star with a great sense of humor and a mischievous smile. He was the one who’d tackled Manny after that interception the other day.
“Thanks a lot, squirt,” Sherry said to Manny. She was short but built. Manny watched her walk away, but Donald smacked his arm.
“We gotta go or we’ll be late,” Donald said. “She’s out of your league, anyway.”
“What? I ain’t interested in her. She was just in my way,” Manny said.
“Yeah, well, she’s after Fiorelli,” Donald said. “She can probably run him down faster than you could.”
Manny laughed. “Yeah, but I hit harder.”
“She’d better hit hard if she expects any time with Fiorelli,” Donald said. “Every girl in the school seems to be after him.”
6
The Kickoff
Saturday came quickly, but the afternoon dragged on as Manny waited eagerly for game time. He watched a college game on TV and tossed a ball around with Sal, but every time he checked the clock it was only a little bit later than the time before.
Finally it was time to suit up, and he went to his closet to get his game jersey, where he’d hung it the day before. It felt smooth and new, with the white number 34 standing out from the bright red material. He’d even cleaned his helmet with window spray.
“You look like a pro,” Sal said. “I can’t wait for this game, Manny. I can’t wait.”
“I can’t wait either. I hope we kick off. First play, I’m gonna nail somebody. Wham!”
“Knock ’em flat, Manny.”
“Right on their butts.”
Donald showed up a few minutes later, and they walked to the high school field. It was still two hours until game time, but the coaches wanted the players there by five P.M. to warm up and go over strategy. South Bergen had won the league title the year before, so the Hudson City Hornets were in for a battle.
“You nervous?” Donald asked as they arrived at the field.
“A little,” Manny said. He laughed. “I think I’ll be a lot more nervous when the game starts.”
“Me, too. I hardly slept last night, and I could barely eat lunch.”
“You not eating?” Manny said. “Never thought I’d see that.”
“Oh, I ate. But I had to force it down.”
Players were out on the field stretching and throwing a football around. It wouldn’t be dark for a while yet, but the lights would be on for the game.
Manny hadn’t eaten much either, but his parents said they’d all go out for pizza after the game. He didn’t even want to think about food, though. The jitters in his stomach told him he’d never keep anything down.
The team warmed up, did a few passing drills, and gathered around the head coach as he talked about playing smart and playing hard. “This is our home field, guys,” he said. “Don’t let them take over our turf. Show them who’s boss, right from the opening play.”
The team yelled. Game time was approaching quickly. The bleachers were filled with spectators, and the referees had arrived, gathering near midfield in their black-and-white uniforms. The South Bergen team, dressed in white uniforms with blue-and-yellow trim, looked big and strong on the opposite sideline.
Manny looked around for Anthony and saw him trotting onto the field from the locker room. Anthony made a fist and shook it in the air as he saw Manny. “One pound under!” he shouted.
“Yeah!” Manny yelled. Anthony had made it under the weight limit.
“All I ate since lunch yesterday was two crackers with peanut butter,” Anthony said as he reached the sideline.
Wide receiver Jason Fiorelli came over and put his arms around Anthony, pretending that he was going to pick him up. “You’re light as a feather,” Jason said, joking as always.
Manny was amazed that Fiorelli never seemed to give in to pressure. He’d seen him go to the line in the final seconds of the YMCA championship basketball game and calmly sink two free throws to secure a victory. One time he made three straight strikes in the tenth frame of a bowling match when anything less would have meant a loss. And he always did these things with a smile on his face. Here they were, seconds from the kickoff, and Jason was as loose as ever.
“Listen, Anthony, if you’re hungry, you can graze between plays,” Fiorelli said. “Just take a mouthful of grass.”
“I’m ready to eat my helmet,” Anthony said.
“Think of their quarterback as a big hunk of steak,” Fiorelli said. “Every time you sack him, you get to take a bite.”
“Maybe I’ll picture a turkey instead,” Anthony said. “Steaks don’t run away from you.”
Vinnie DiMarco and the other captain walked to the center of the field for the coin flip. Manny swallowed hard. South Bergen won the toss and the official indicated that they’d be receiving.
“Kickoff team, get ready!” yelled an assistant coach.
Manny snapped his chinstrap and closed his eyes. First play of the season, and he’d be out there. Anthony smacked him on the helmet and said, “Let’s go, Manny. Use that speed.”
The crowd stood and cheered as the Hornets took the field. Manny and Donald jogged to their spots near the opposite sideline. South Bergen players were glaring at them from across the field. The guy across from Manny was huge.
“Box and in,” Manny said to Donald.
“I know it,” Donald said. “Get ready to sprint your butt off, man. Straight down and angle in. Stop that sucker cold.”
DiMarco was lined up to kick, raising his hand to signal for his teammates to move. The crowd continued to yell. Manny took one last gulp of air and rubbed his hands together.
There! The kick was high and long, slicing toward Manny’s side of the field. Manny streaked ahead, watching the receiver as he waited for the ball.
Suddenly Manny felt a major impact as his legs were cut from underneath and he went sprawling toward the grass. He hit the ground hard, but scrambled up and searched for the return man.
There he was, cutting straight toward him. Manny took a quick step in that direction, but another blocker was leading the way. Manny was no match for him, getting knocked aside and spinning to the turf once again. The ball carrier ran past, crossing midfield, racing along the sideline.
DiMarco finally made the tackle down near the 20-yard line. He’d saved a touchdown, but South Bergen had great fi
eld position for its opening series.
Manny got up and jogged across the field. Donald was just ahead of him, hobbling a bit.
Donald turned to Manny. “What happened?” he asked.
“I got wiped out after about two seconds,” Manny said. “Knocked on my butt. Twice.”
“Me, too. That was terrible.”
“Those dudes are big,” Manny said. “And fast.”
“So are we,” Donald said. “They just got lucky.”
They reached the sideline and the assistant coach called them over.
“Guys, that wasn’t pretty,” the coach said. “We had no penetration. We gave them a clear path up the field. You guys on the end”—he pointed to Donald and Manny—“you have to close off those lanes. Stay on your feet and hit back.”
They both nodded vigorously. Manny wasn’t sure what he could have done differently though. He never had a chance to get downfield.
South Bergen’s great field position was too much for the Hudson City defense to overcome. The opponents had a rugged fullback who bulled through the line repeatedly. A quick pass into the end zone capped the drive, and South Bergen was ahead.
Hudson City didn’t get far on its first opportunity, being left 4 yards short of a first down on its opening series. DiMarco’s punt left South Bergen well short of midfield, however, and the Hornets’ defense was able to hold them this time.
The first half became little more than a succession of punts, as neither team made a serious drive downfield. It was still 7–0 at halftime.
“We’re right in this one,” Coach Reynolds told his players in the locker room. “Our defense has been great, and the offense is starting to show something. We need to get a score and even this one up. This second half should belong to us.”
Donald smacked Manny on the arm. “After we score, you and me are gonna make up for that screw-up on the kickoff,” he said. “This time we nail ’em deep in their territory. Maybe even cause a fumble on the return.”
Manny swallowed hard and nodded. “You said it.”
Hudson City received the second-half kickoff and established good field position. Then, facing third and five, DiMarco dropped back to pass. His speedy wide receiver, Jason Fiorelli, had raced past the defender and was open downfield. DiMarco let loose with a long spiraling pass, and the crowd stood in anticipation. But the ball fell short. Fiorelli reached back to grab it, but the defender was there first, hauling it in for an interception and stopping Hudson City’s drive.