by Dan Gutman
“Humphf!” said Andrea. Then she stormed off to do more lame cheers with her friends.
“We don’t hate and we don’t boo!
We respect the other team, too!
Go…Moose!”
After everybody had some Gatorade, Coach Hyatt taught us how to punt the ball. Punting is hard. I punted the ball really far, but I couldn’t make it go straight. One of my punts landed over near the cheerleaders. Andrea picked it up.
I remembered the last time she got her hands on the ball. She threw it over our heads.
“Don’t throw it,” I told Andrea. “Just bring it back.”
“What’s the magic word, Arlo?” asked Andrea.
“Now!” I yelled.
“Well, okay,” Andrea said, “but you’re going to have to tackle me for it.”
Me and the guys laughed. A cheerleader thought she could run past a bunch of trained football players! Ha!
“I’d like to see you try!” I yelled.
Andrea started running toward us.
“Get her!” I yelled.
Andrea faked out Michael.
Then she faked out Ryan.
Then she faked out Neil.
Andrea was faking out everybody! She was running down the field, and nobody could stop her!
Nobody but me, that is. After she faked everybody else out, I was the only player between Andrea and the goal line.
“You’re not getting past me,” I told her.
“Oh yes, I am, Arlo.”
“Oh no, you’re not,” I told Andrea.
We went back and forth like that for a while. Then Andrea faked left.
Then she faked right.
Then she faked left again.
But I wasn’t gonna fall for her lame fakes. I grabbed her legs and slammed her to the ground. All the guys cheered.
“Oooooh!” Ryan said. “A.J. tackled Andrea. They must be in love!”
“When are you gonna get married?” asked Michael.
If those guys weren’t my best friends, I would hate them.
6
Rufus the Doofus
Coach Hyatt showed up at our next practice with Wyatt the Nose Picker. A big, brown, rubber thing was strapped to the roof of the Mini Cooper.
“What’s that big, brown, rubber thing?” we all asked.
“Last time I told you ragamuffins about the end zone dance,” the coach said. “Today I want to talk about another very important part of football—the blimp.”
“You got a blimp?” asked Ryan.
We all got excited, because blimps are cool.
“Not exactly,” Coach Hyatt said as she took the big, brown, rubber thing off the roof of her car and put it on the grass. “I couldn’t get a blimp. But I got something even better!”
“What is it?” Michael asked.
“Oh, you’ll see,” said Coach Hyatt.
She attached a bike pump to the big, brown, rubber thing and started pumping air into it. It got bigger and bigger. And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what it turned out to be.
It was a giant, inflatable moose!
“This is Rufus,” said Coach Hyatt. “He’s our mascot. I call him Rufus T. Moose. The T stands for ‘the.’ Rufus the Moose will float over the field and inspire us to victory.”
“Where’d you get him?” I asked, “Rent-A-Moose?”
“No, Rent-A-Blimp,” Coach Hyatt said. “Some other team got the last blimp, so I was able to get a discount on Rufus. Isn’t he awesome?”
No, he wasn’t. Rufus the Moose was kind of wrinkled, and one of his antlers looked like it was about to fall off.
Rufus the Doofus was more like it.
I didn’t tell Coach Hyatt that her moose was lame because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
The coach tied Rufus the Doofus to a tree so he wouldn’t blow away. Then she wheeled a big whiteboard out of the equipment shed. It was like the whiteboards we use at school.
“It’s time to go over some plays,” Coach Hyatt told us.
She drew a bunch of Xs and Os on the board to represent the players on our team and another team. Then she drew lines to show where each of us was supposed to run. We went over a bunch of running plays and passing plays. I knew most of them already from last season.
“And now,” the coach said as she looked around to make sure nobody was watching, “I’m going to show you our Secret Play.”
Oooooh! We all leaned forward. Secret plays are cool because, well, anything involving secrets is cool.
Coach Hyatt began drawing lines all over the board.
“A.J., you’re the quarterback, so you go here,” she barked. “Ryan, you go here. Michael, you go here. Neil, you go here. Wyatt, you go here. Wyatt will hike the ball to A.J. A.J. will flip it to Ryan. Ryan will pass it to Michael. Michael will lateral it to Neil. Neil will hand it off to Wyatt. Wyatt will run it into the end zone for a touchdown. Got it?”
“Got it!” we all shouted, even though none of us got it. Coach Hyatt’s Secret Play made no sense at all, but none of us wanted to look dumb.
“Okay, let’s try it,” said Coach Hyatt.
We all got into position.
“Hut-one!”* I shouted. “Hut-two! HIKE!”
And we all ran into each other.
It was a big mess of kids in a gigantic pile. There were arms and legs flailing around. It looked like one of those tanks full of lobsters you see in the supermarket. Unfortunately, I was the lobster on the bottom.
“Owwww, my leg!” I yelled.
“Walk it off, A.J.!” Coach Hyatt barked when the last kid climbed off me.
“I think my leg might be broken,” I said.
“Broken?” barked the coach. “When I was your age, if my leg was broken, I would go out and build a log cabin with my bare hands.”
What did that have to do with anything?
I thought I was gonna die.
7
The Sharks
Luckily, my leg wasn’t broken after all. It was just a little sore. We practiced really hard that week until we knew all the plays. Finally, it was time for our first game. We were playing a team called the Sharks.
It was a beautiful Saturday. When we came out of the locker room, there was Rufus the Doofus floating over the field. And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what was floating in the air right next to Rufus.
A blimp!
And you know what it said on the side of the blimp? GO SHARKS!
How come the Sharks got a blimp and we got a lame, inflatable moose? It totally wasn’t fair!
Andrea and the other cheerleaders were on the sideline with their pom-poms.
“Football has a kicker. Baseball has a batter!
Whatever game we play, the score doesn’t matter!
Go…Moose!”
What a lame cheer.
The bleachers were filled with parents and their cameras. A few moms were selling cookies. Some of the teachers from our school were there, too—Miss Holly, Mr. Macky, Ms. Coco, Ms. Hannah, Mr. Loring. I spotted my teacher, Mr. Granite. He comes from another planet called Etinarg. Me and the guys ran over to say hello to him.
“Do they have football on Etinarg?” asked Michael.
“Oh no,” Mr. Granite said. “We play a game called llabtoof.”
“How do you play that?” Neil asked.
“It’s very simple,” Mr. Granite told us. “There are thirteen glorps on each darge, and they toss a pinker back and forth to see who can score the most floobs. The winner gets to urgle a flange.”
That game sounded weird. I wanted to ask Mr. Granite more about llabtoof, but that’s when the Sharks came out of their locker room. They had blue uniforms. We all stared as they jogged on to the field.
“Wow!” Ryan said. “Those guys are huge!”
He was right. The Sharks didn’t look like they were humans. Their arms were bigger than my legs. Even their muscles had muscles.
“No way those guys weigh seventy pound
s,” said Michael.
“They look like they’re in seventh grade,” said Neil the nude kid.
“We can’t beat them,” said Ryan. “They’re gonna kill us!”
“Can’t we just pick up their car and carry it away?” I suggested.
“They came in a bus, dumbhead,” said Ryan.
“They’re awfully big, Coach,” Michael said.
“The bigger they come, the harder they fall,” Coach Hyatt told us.
“Yeah, but they’re gonna fall on us,” I said, “and we’re gonna die!”
Wyatt just picked his nose. I’ll tell you, that kid must have an unlimited supply of boogers.
Andrea and the other cheerleaders made one of their lame cheers:
“Winning! Losing! It depends!
Why can’t we just all be friends?
Go…Moose!”
When the Sharks came out, their cheerleaders on the other side of the field started doing a cheer of their own. It didn’t rhyme or anything, but it sounded a lot better than our cheers:
“Kill! Kill! Kill!
Crush the Moose!
Stomp them! Rip their faces off!
Remove their internal organs!”
“My life is over,” I told the guys.
8
The First Half
It was time for the coin toss to decide which team would kick off. Me and Ryan are captains of the Moose, so we ran out to the middle of the field. So did two of the Sharks. The ref told us to shake hands.
One of the Sharks grabbed my hand. He didn’t just shake it like a normal person. He started squeezing. So I squeezed back. And he squeezed harder. And it really hurt! I thought I was gonna die. But just before my fingers were crushed, the Shark let go.
“Grrrrrr!” he said. “I eat shrimps like you for breakfast.”
“So is your face,” I replied, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
The ref tossed the coin up and I called heads.
“Tails!” yelled the ref.
Bummer in the summer! We had to kick off.
Our team got into position. Ryan put the ball on the tee. All the grown-ups in the bleachers started cheering. The ref blew his whistle, and Ryan kicked off.
It was a pretty good kick, too. We all ran down the field to tackle the Shark who picked up the ball. The only problem was, there were giant Sharks running all over the place!
One of them knocked Michael on his butt.
One of them knocked Ryan on his butt.
One of them knocked me on my butt.
They were knocking all of us on our butts!*
“Run for your life!” Neil shouted.
When I looked up from the ground, the Sharks were in the end zone dancing and high-fiving each other.
Sharks 6, Moose 0.
“That’s all right! That’s okay!
We’re gonna win it anyway!
Go…Moose!”
The Sharks made the extra point and kicked off to us. Michael picked up the ball. But before he could take a step, he was knocked on his butt by some giant Shark. Michael fumbled the ball, and the next thing we knew, the Sharks were dancing and high-fiving each other again in the end zone.
Sharks 13, Moose 0.
“That’s all right! That’s okay!
We’re gonna win next Saturday!
Go…Moose!”
You don’t need to hear all the gory details of what happened in the first half. But whenever the Sharks had the ball, they ran right over us like we were made out of tissue paper and knocked us on our butts. Whenever we had the ball, they knocked us on our butts and took the ball away. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
“It’s okay that we’re not great,
At least we all participate!
Go…Moose!”
What a lame cheer. Andrea and her friends were no help at all. The cheerleaders weren’t looking very cheery.
Wyatt was useless. All he ever did was stand around and pick his nose.
And having Rufus the Doofus floating over the field wasn’t doing us any good either.
Finally, the clock ran out. It was halftime. We had played two quarters, but it felt like a million. Our team was staggering all over the field. I was still on my hands and knees in the dirt after the last Shark touchdown.
“Hey, loser!” one of the Sharks said to me on his way to the locker room. “Where’d you get that lame moose?”
“Rent-A-Blimp,” I told him.
The score at halftime: Sharks 77, Moose 0.
9
Halftime
We all trudged into the locker room like zombies. We were tired. Sore. Dirty. Depressed. It looked more like a hospital than a locker room. Wyatt Hyatt was lying on the floor picking his nose.
“I think I’m gonna die,” I announced as I plopped down on a bench.
“Can we go home now?” asked Neil the nude kid.
Coach Hyatt blew her whistle.
“Okay,” she barked. “Listen up! All you ragamuffins gather around and take a knee.”
“Take a knee?” I asked. “Why should I take a knee?”
“Where do I get a knee to take?” asked Ryan. “And where should I take it?”
“What if somebody is using their knee and can’t loan it to me?” asked Michael.
“I can’t take my own knee,” said Neil. “I need it. Whose knee should I take?”
“Just kneel down, boys,” said Coach Hyatt.
“Oh.”
“We’re only behind by seventy-seven points,” the coach told us. “There’s still a lot of football to be played. Plenty of time to catch up.”
Everybody groaned
“Can’t we just forfeit the game, Coach?” I asked.
“Forfeit?” Coach Hyatt barked. “When I was your age and my team was behind by seventy-seven points, do you know what I would do?”
“What?” we all asked.
“I’d build a log cabin with my bare hands.”
“Why would you do that?” asked Ryan.
But Coach Hyatt wasn’t listening. She picked up a clipboard and paced back and forth across the locker room. I could tell she was going to give us a pep talk. Coaches always pace back and forth and give you a pep talk when your team is losing. It’s the first rule of being a coach.
“I want to ask you ragamuffins a question,” Coach Hyatt said. “What’s a ten-letter word that means ‘first president’?”
“Washington!” we all shouted.
“Right!”
The coach wrote something on her clipboard.
“What does that have to do with football?” I asked.
“Nothing,” the coach replied. “I’m working on a crossword puzzle.”
She started pacing back and forth again.
“How many states are there?” she asked.
“Fifty!” we all shouted.
“Right! And how many cents are in two quarters?” asked Coach Hyatt.
“Fifty!” we all shouted.
“Right! And what’s half of a hundred?” asked Coach Hyatt.
“Fifty!” we all shouted.
“What does that have to do with football?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Fifty is my favorite number. The point is, this game is half over. That’s fifty percent. So we’ve got fifty percent left. The Sharks had their half. Now it’s time for our half.”
“But we’re getting killed out there, Coach!” Michael said.
“Don’t worry,” Coach Hyatt told us. “I have a plan.”
A plan? What plan could she possibly have? We were behind by seventy-seven points!
“It’s time to bring out our secret weapon,” Coach Hyatt said.
She went over to the locker room door.
She put her hand on the doorknob.
And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years who walked into the door at that moment.
Nobody, because if you walked into a door it would hurt. But you’ll never believe who walked into the doorway.
Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to read the next chapter. So nah-nah-nah boo-boo on you.
10
Our Secret Weapon
It was Andrea Young!!!
Little Miss Perfect I-Know-Everything-and-You-Don’t walked into our locker room. And she was wearing a football uniform!
“There’s a girl in the locker room!” shouted Neil the nude kid. “Run for your lives!”
“Coach Hyatt is a girl, too, dumbhead,” I told Neil.
“Oh, right.”
“Hi, Arlo!” Andrea said.
“What are you doing here?” I asked her.
“Coach Hyatt asked me to join the team because you boys are so lame,” she told me. “I wasn’t allowed to wear my jewelry, so I accessorized my helmet with stickers. Do you like it?”
“No,” I told her, “and girls don’t play football.”
“I’ve been watching Andrea on the sideline,” Coach Hyatt told us. “I think she can help us. She’s fast. She’s strong. She’s smart.”
“She’s annoying,” I added.
“Do you want to win, A.J.?” Coach Hyatt asked. “Or do you just want to complain?”
“Can I do both?” I asked.
Coach Hyatt paced the locker room again.
“Do you ragamuffins know what I used to have when I was your age?” asked the coach.
“A log cabin?” I guessed.
“No, a hamster,” Coach Hyatt said. “His name was Chip. I loved that hamster. And one day Chip got run over by a bulldozer. Poor little fella. He didn’t have a chance. Chip was flattened; and after the bulldozer ran over him, he was about the size of a living-room rug.”
Everybody started sniffling because we were imagining in our heads a hamster getting run over by a bulldozer.
“When you kids go out on the field for the second half,” the coach continued, “don’t think about winning this game for me. Don’t think about winning this game for your parents. Think about Chip, that poor little hamster. Let’s go out there and win this one…for the Chipper!”