Goal Line

by Tiki Barber

  He answered the easy ones first, just like the week before. Then he tackled the three or four that were the most challenging. From these he picked the one that he wanted to use for next week’s column. By the time he’d finished, it was nine thirty again. Time for dessert and bed, and nothing else.

  This couldn’t go on—not for the rest of the school year, or the rest of the football season. He hadn’t had a second to himself, just to relax, since Ms. Adair had handed out the form for that stupid essay contest.

  No, it wasn’t stupid, he admitted to himself. In another world, where he wasn’t the star of the football team, it might have been a fantastic opportunity for him.

  But the way things were?

  Tiki felt like he was about to burst from all the pressure that was being put on him.

  He washed up, brushed his teeth, and got into bed. Ronde was already snoring. It didn’t take him long, Tiki thought with a pang of jealousy. All Ronde had to worry about was hitting his growth spurt. Nothing to keep him awake at night.

  And then Tiki remembered—he hadn’t thought of a solution to Cootie’s problem! Oh, no. Now he’d never get to sleep!

  What could he tell the poor kid?

  The game against Pulaski came up so fast that Tiki almost didn’t see it coming. Was it really Friday already? Had the whole week gone by without him noticing the passing of the days?

  He’d been to practice twice, although he hadn’t done very well. He could see the looks Coach Wheeler kept giving him, and he knew what they meant. Coach had not been convinced by Tiki’s statement that he could handle three things at once—football, schoolwork, and his job at the school paper.

  That job had gotten much bigger. If he was honest with himself, Tiki had to admit that it was other kids’ troubles that had occupied most of the time, attention, and space in his brain these past two weeks.

  Although he still hadn’t figured out an answer to Cootie’s problem, he had gotten all twenty-three advice letters answered, and he’d picked the one he thought was best for his second column. He left the rest of his responses in a box at the Weekly Eagle, for private pickup by Anxious, Nerdy, Clueless, and all the other kids who’d written him under made-up names, hoping for an answer to their problems.

  This week Tiki had also taken his math and English unit tests. Ouch. Tiki bit his lip as he remembered how blindsided he’d been by his grades—B minus in English, and C in math!

  His mom had not been pleased. “What is this you’re handing me?” she’d asked him, her eyes burning right through him. “This is not my son’s test. This is some other mother’s son’s test. My son doesn’t bring home Cs and B minuses. He takes his education seriously.”

  “I take my education seriously,” Ronde had piped up.

  “Be quiet, Ronde,” their mom had said. “You got very nice grades, but I’m talking to your brother now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tiki had shot Ronde an annoyed look, and then had turned to face his mom.

  “Do you have an explanation for me?” she’d asked.

  He’d shrugged. “I guess I didn’t study hard enough.”

  “How much time did you give to each subject?”

  He’d shrugged again. “I didn’t count.”

  “Well, you’d better devote more time from now on. I don’t want to see these kinds of grades again. Ever. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” And that had been the end of it, at least for that evening. But he had studied for both those tests. The trouble was, he’d kept getting distracted, finding himself drawn into those tricky problems so many of his fellow students seemed to be grappling with!

  Tiki knew in his heart that Coach Wheeler and Ronde were right. Agreeing to do the advice column had been a mistake. But what could he do now? So many kids were depending on him.

  And now here it was, Friday afternoon, and they were riding the bus for their third straight road game, into the jaws of the hated, dreaded Pulaski Wildcats.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ANSWERING THE CALL

  * * *

  FOR THE PAST MONTH RONDE HAD BEEN BRISTLING over the fact that Tiki was bigger than him. Not just taller, or stronger, or having bigger muscles, or getting all the attention because as a running back he scored more touchdowns than Ronde. No, it wasn’t just that. It was also his winning the essay contest when Ronde had gotten only an honorable mention. And it was Tiki’s getting offered the advice column when it was he, Ronde, who always had the best advice to give.

  Yes, okay, he admitted it. He was jealous of his twin. But the worst part was when the Eagles themselves started buying into it. “We can’t lose!” the younger players would keep saying. “We’ve got Tiki!” Not “We’ve got the Barber twins,” but “We’ve got Tiki.” He loved his brother, of course—and he wished him well, but not more well than he wished himself!

  It made Ronde’s blood boil. But it also made him worry about Tiki. His twin had been in a haze all week. It had started with that stupid essay contest, and things had only gotten worse since he’d started writing that advice column. Tiki had never come home with such bad grades before. Even Ronde was shocked. If Tiki wasn’t paying attention to his schoolwork, how was he going to give football everything he had?

  For the past two weeks the Eagles had come from behind after playing ugly most of the game. They’d gotten lucky both times. But expecting lightning to strike three times in the same place was a recipe for getting shocked. The Pulaski Wildcats were not just good. They’d finished in first place the year before, and they were almost all returning ninth graders. They were deep, experienced, and loaded for bear. Everyone—especially Pulaski—wanted revenge on the Eagles.

  If the Eagles had an ugly start today, things could go south in a hurry. And if Tiki played at less than his best, it would take the air right out of the Eagles’ balloon. All those “We can’t lose, we’ve got Tiki” chants. What would those kids think if Tiki choked in the clutch?

  He’d been awful in practice all week, but that didn’t seem to bother anybody else except Ronde and Coach Wheeler. Everyone else, including Tiki, kept brushing it off, saying it was only practice.

  That wasn’t the way to win, and Ronde and Coach both knew it. Tiki used to know it too. What had happened to him?

  Ronde thought he knew. He’d tried talking to Tiki, but his twin was too proud to change his mind.

  Well, there was nothing Ronde could do about it now. If Tiki wasn’t going to bring his “A” game, that was out of Ronde’s hands.

  What he could control was his own performance, he realized. “Good things come in small packages,” he reminded himself, grinning as he remembered the subject of his honorable-mention-winning essay.

  “Game on!” he shouted as he and Tiki led the team out of the tunnel and onto the field. They were greeted by a chorus of boos from the stands packed with Pulaski fans. Not exactly polite, thought Ronde. But hey, when you’re state champs, the also-rans are not going to give you a lot of love.

  The Eagles received the kickoff, with Ronde getting tackled at the forty yard line. Their first drive featured Manny going to the air. They managed to get off a few completions because the Wildcats had been expecting to see a lot of Tiki, a star they knew from last year. Instead Coach Wheeler threw them a curveball, and it resulted in a field goal for the Eagles.

  But Pulaski had come to play on offense. By running on virtually every play, they steered clear of Ronde. Their well-executed blocks created lots of space for the halfback and fullback, and before long Pulaski had a 7–3 lead.

  On their next three drives, the Eagles went with their ground game. Tiki wasn’t making much progress, though. Every time he tried to find a hole, it was quickly closed and he had to settle for short yardage. The Eagles did manage one more field goal before the half, but that was all.

  Pulaski, however, was unstoppable. They scored two more touchdowns before the half, and were driving again when the gun sounded. The Eagles staggered int
o the locker room, down 21–6 and showing no signs of life.

  Coach Wheeler lit into the linemen first. “You’ve got to hold your lanes!” he shouted. “Hit ’em low, and quit grabbing. Those penalties are killing us! And, Tiki, if you don’t see daylight, you’ve got to rethink the play, understand? You can’t keep hitting your head against a brick wall and expect it to give way!”

  Tiki nodded, staring at the floor between his legs.

  “I thought we went over this in the video,” Wheeler said, still focused on Tiki. “Their middle linebacker, he’s the one to keep your eye on. When he cuts one way, you cut the other. Don’t you remember? Or weren’t you paying attention?”

  Tiki shrugged. To Ronde it looked like his twin was ready to cry. Wheeler must have sensed it too, because he backed off.

  “Use your head, Tiki, like you usually do. We need you out there, giving it everything you’ve got. Understand?”

  Tiki nodded again, but his head stayed down. The locker room was dead silent. Their captain on offense had just gotten a dressing-down from the coach! Their invincible hero had just been humbled.

  “Okay, listen up. They get the ball first next half,” Wheeler went on. “Defense, I want you thinking about stripping the ball. We’ve got to create some mistakes and throw them off their game a little. Right now they’ve got all the momentum. I want each of you to think about how you’re going to be the one to make the play that swings the game around! Now get back out there, Eagles, and show them what you’re made of!”

  They went back out, but many of them didn’t look convinced by Coach Wheeler’s speech.

  Ronde, for his part, had taken Coach’s words to heart. “It’s gonna be me,” he told himself. “Good things come in small packages. Good things come in small packages.”

  He flew down the field after the kickoff, and upended the runner so fiercely that he tumbled head over heels, hitting the ground so hard that the ball came loose! An Eagles player fell onto it for the recovery, and Coach Wheeler had the big momentum-shifting play he’d asked for!

  “How’d you do that, Bro?” Tiki asked, grinning.

  Ronde stared back at him without smiling. “Good things come in small packages, dude. He never saw me coming.”

  Tiki’s jaw dropped. “That’s it!” he cried.

  “That’s what?”

  “N-never mind,” Tiki said, waving him off. “Gotta get out there.”

  Ronde sat on the bench and watched to see if the momentum of the game really had shifted.

  It had. Tiki took the ball on first down and made two quick cuts that left him free in the flat. Deking and spinning, he fought forward for eighteen yards and a first down!

  In no time the Eagles were at the gates, first and goal at the seven. Tiki took the ball from Manny and ran behind Justin toward the corner. Just before getting there, Tiki cut straight back and downfield, finding a seam that hadn’t been there a moment before, and leaving the Wildcats’ star middle linebacker flat on his face in the grass!

  On the next Pulaski drive Ronde lined up right on the line of scrimmage. Every play, he knocked his man out of the action with ferocious hits. Rob Fiorilla stuffed two runs that came his way, getting there before the ballcarrier to stuff the hole. On third down Ronde blitzed and grabbed the runner as he tried to go by him, throwing him for a loss. The Wildcats were forced to punt, and Ronde returned it all the way to the Pulaski twenty-five.

  Tiki took it from there, grabbing a screen pass and following his blocking down to the seven. From there, Manny found Luke Frazier in the end zone, and the Pulaski lead was down to one point—21–20!

  The fourth quarter began with a Wildcats drive that ended up with a long field goal, extending the lead to 24–20. On their next three drives, the Eagles ate up a lot of ground, but they also ate up a lot of clock, and did not manage to score. The Wildcats, too, ate up the clock with their running game, which had just enough power to keep possession of the ball. On this hot day in early October, the Eagles defense, which had been on the field most of the game, was starting to wilt.

  Finally the Eagles held on a big fourth-down play and took over at their own thirty-five with two minutes and twenty seconds left in the game.

  Manny went to the air. Scrambling away from the blitzing Wildcats defense, he found Frank Amadou for twenty-five yards, then Luke Frazier for another ten. Now, at the Pulaski thirty, Coach Wheeler called Tiki’s number for a quick dump pass in the flat.

  They had one time-out left, so if he was tackled in the middle of the field, they could still stop the clock and have time for a few more plays. If he missed it, the clock would stop on the incompletion and it would still only be second down.

  Tiki grabbed the pass, and deked his way for a first down. But instead of just going down, he decided to go for the kill right then. He fought like crazy for a few extra yards, staying up while more and more Wildcats defenders hit him.

  It was a bad decision. One of those defenders grabbed the ball and stripped it out of Tiki’s hands! It flew into the air and was grabbed by another Pulaski player, who dropped to the ground with it, ending the play.

  It was over!

  Or was it? Ronde looked up at the clock. One minute forty seconds left, and they had only one time-out. They called it on first down. On second down the Wildcats quarterback took a knee. Ronde wondered if he’d do the same on third down. If he did, the clock would count down to almost nothing. Pulaski would have to punt, but if Ronde couldn’t run it back for a touchdown, the Eagles would lose, because there would be no time left to run a play!

  Yes, the Wildcats might play it that way, but Ronde thought not. They didn’t want to put the game in his hands, because Ronde Barber had beaten them before. He thought they’d try to run the ball for a first down, rather than take a knee for the third time.

  He didn’t even bother to cover his man. He knew they wouldn’t be thinking pass, because an incomplete pass would stop the clock, and they wanted it to run out.

  He was right. Leaving his man alone, he darted into the backfield and hit the ballcarrier from behind just as he took the handoff. The ball flew from his hands, and into the waiting arms of Rob Fiorilla.

  Ronde saw his eyes widen in surprise. Rob was not used to having the ball in his hands, and he obviously didn’t know what to do with it.

  “HERE!!” Ronde shouted, waving his arms wildly.

  Rob came to just in time, and lateraled the ball to Ronde just as two Wildcats linemen slammed into him.

  Ronde took the toss and was off to the races. Taller players with longer strides came after him, but none of them could catch him. Ronde never stopped until he’d run past the end zone and jumped into the padded wall separating the field from the bleachers.

  Game over! Eagles 26, Pulaski 24!

  Ronde had done it. He’d answered Coach Wheeler’s challenge to be the one who changed the big game. He’d grabbed it just before it had gotten out of reach, and he’d snatched it back for his team. Now his teammates carried him off the field. He was their hero, at least for today.

  He, not Tiki. The little guy had come through. And they’d never seen him coming.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE ULTIMATE GOAL

  * * *

  TIKI WAS AS THRILLED BY THE VICTORY AS ANY of them—those wildly cheering, noisy, raucous boys on the bus back to Hidden Valley. It was a great win for the team, over their biggest local rival. It ended a string of three straight away games against last year’s play-off opponents. Coming up was a string of five straight games against weaker competition that the Eagles could reasonably expect to win, if they didn’t totally mess up.

  By the time they met the Bears, Wildcats, and Rockets again, it would be the last three games of the season, and they would all be in the friendly confines of Hidden Valley field. The Eagles rookies would have had more than half a season’s worth of experience. The team would be running on all cylinders, a well-oiled machine with lots of momentum. They would have every chance i
n the world at going undefeated.

  The team’s future was rosy, and all the Eagles knew it. What had been dangerous overconfidence was now easy, well-earned faith in themselves.

  Still, inside, down deep inside where the others couldn’t see, Tiki was uneasy. He knew in his heart of hearts that he hadn’t played his best, that his mistakes during the game and his lack of focus in practice had nearly cost the Eagles this latest of their three straight wins. The undefeated season of their dreams would have been gone forever, and their hopes for a state championship would have been seriously damaged.

  Yes, they’d all been lucky. Tiki most of all. Good old Ronde, thought Tiki. Without him we’d never have pulled it off these past three weeks. Definitely Ronde had been the team MVP so far.

  Tiki was sorry now he’d given his twin such a hard time over the growth spurt thing. Ronde didn’t need to be big to make a difference in a football game—or in life, either. And of course he would catch up eventually, Tiki knew that. It was inevitable.

  They got off the team bus and were driven home by Paco’s mom, who dropped them off on her way. “Great going, you guys!” she called out her window as she waved good-bye.

  “Go, Eagles!” the twins both shouted after her.

  “Go, Eaaagllles,” came Paco’s retreating reply as the car drove away.

  The boys stared at their house. It was dark. Their mom worked late on Friday evenings at her second job. Dinner would be in the oven, ready for heating up. Tiki wished she didn’t have to work so hard. Then she could come to more of their games, like she used to when she had only the one job.

  “Life is expensive,” she always said. “Got to pay those bills if we expect to get along.”

  He was glad they had good news for her tonight. It always made her happy when the Eagles won, and when her boys played well.