Control Freak

by Steve Moore

  Here is actual photographic proof:

  Okay, I pretty much just lifted that image from Google and slapped it on this page, but trust me. There was a Goodyear Blimp circling Phil Day Stadium.

  Or maybe it just happened to be soaring by on its way to an actual NFL stadium.

  Anyway, our bus pulled into the stadium parking lot, and we were greeted by Jeeves, the butler-like dude who traveled with the team when Nike Prep played at our school earlier in the season.

  I was going to ask him if I could get a ride in the Goodyear Blimp, but we had to hustle into the locker room and get suited up for the Big Game.

  CHAPTER 22

  The Mighty Plumbers ran out onto the field first because it is a strict football tradition that the visiting team always comes out of the locker rooms before the home team.

  It’s psychological trickery designed to mess with the minds of the visiting team. The home fans boo and jeer and throw churros at the weak and useless opposing players.

  But when the beloved home team runs onto the field, the fans go out of their skulls and cheer and clap and jump up and down like maniacs.

  Some visiting teams have been known to get so freaked out by the psychological trickery, they run off the field and never return.

  Game over. Forfeit.

  But the Nike Prep crowd actually was very polite when we ran onto the field. They even had a friendly cheer prepared just for us.

  It was one of those sneaky welcoming cheers that are sort of a slam, but at least they didn’t boo and jeer and throw broccoli at us.

  We got rousing applause from the Spiro fans when we ran onto the field, although the visiting team fans never quite sound as loud as the home fans because they are way outnumbered.

  But there were two Spiro fans who applauded loudly when we ran onto the field.

  My mom and dad.

  They were sitting in the best seats in the visitors’ bleachers, right behind our bench at the fifty-yard line. Ordinarily, when I see my dad at a game, I immediately get struck with Dad-O-Phobia.

  What is Dad-O-Phobia? It’s a severe brain wreck that afflicts most people my age. Boys. Girls. It doesn’t discriminate.

  You can be cruising along in a football game, not making any dumb mistakes, then good ol’ Father Figure shows up and whamo! Dad-O-Phobia strikes and your mind and body suddenly get hit with a bad case of the drooling dweebs.

  But ever since my first season on the Spiro baseball team, it seemed I had conquered not just my Bean-O-Phobia, but also my Dad-O-Phobia.

  Mom and Dad waved like maniacs when I spotted them in the bleachers. I gave them one of those low-key responses that say, “Hi. I see you. But I don’t want to appear too excited about it.”

  Low-key head nods drive parents right out of their skulls, which is the main reason kids my age do it all the time.

  When the Mighty Plumbers got settled on our side of the field, Becky and I set up the net and started practicing placekicks. Not that we needed to practice. It was more like a warm-up.

  By now, Becky and I were like a well-greased machine: I held the football in the proper upright position with the tip of my fingers; Becky took two approach steps and booted the football.

  The kicks sailed through the uprights every time. It was automatic.

  No brag. It’s just a fact.

  I hadn’t realized just how bonded Becky and I had become, but I was about to find out.

  While we were practicing kicks on the sideline, the Nike Prep cheerleaders came around to our side of the field. They greeted the Spiro cheerleaders in one of those traditional pregame rituals where everyone smiles and acts all friendly, but underneath the surface there is major rivalry.

  I turned around between practice kicks and sort of made eye contact with one of the Nike Prep cheerleaders, who—I have to admit—had a smile just like Becky’s that made me feel like I was her best friend in the entire world.

  She gave me a sly wave behind her back so the other Nike Prep cheerleaders wouldn’t see her traitorous act.

  But the wave apparently did not go unseen.

  I returned her wave, behind my back, and a few seconds later I got kicked right in my shin—one of the most sensitive bones in the entire human body.

  It was Becky.

  Okay, maybe. But, secretly, I was hoping that Billionaire Bill’s questionable nugget of wisdom was right and Becky had done it on purpose.

  CHAPTER 23

  The Big Game started when Becky reared back and kicked the football so hard it sailed over the end zone, out of Phil Day Stadium, and into a parking lot reserved for wealthy Nike Prep donors.

  It was epic! The football bounced around and set off at least a dozen luxury-car alarms.

  (I think Becky was still a little ticked off at the Nike Prep cheerleader and she took it out on the football.)

  It felt weird not having the Magic N64 stashed in my equipment bag in case my team needed a little extra mojo to boost the offense. But I was determined not to use magic if it resulted in a teammate getting hurt.

  The Big Game got underway, and our running game actually did pretty well against the Nike Prep defense.

  In the first quarter, Jimmy Jimerino stuck to Coach Earwax’s balanced attack game plan: run first, then pass. Jimmy handed off to Vinny Pascual on first and second downs, then passed on third downs.

  Vinny took the handoffs and ran behind Mosi Humuhumunukunukuapua’a, who blew open gigantic holes in the Nike Prep defensive line.

  We had built up a two-touchdown lead by the end of the first half. The Nike Prep crowd even acknowledged our efforts and gave us a friendly cheer as we ran off the field for halftime.

  Sort of.

  Coach Earwax’s halftime talk was all upbeat.

  Jimmy Jimerino hadn’t tried to win the game all by himself. Vinny Pascual (without help from the Magic N64) gained yardage on every play. And Becky had nailed both extra points (with a little help from my fingertips).

  After halftime, the Mighty Plumbers sprinted out of the tunnel and back onto the field with high expectations.

  And that’s when disaster struck.

  The Spiro T. Agnew cheerleaders had set up a “Go You Mighty Plumbers!” banner outside of the tunnel that the players would run through on our way back onto the field.

  It was made of paper. It was light and flimsy. The banner appeared to be harmless—like a football player could run through it without fear of getting injured.

  Wrongity, wrong, wrong.

  The Mighty Plumbers ran out of the tunnel with Vinny Pascual in the lead. When our running back broke through the supposedly harmless paper banner, Vinny tripped over his own two feet and face-planted in the grass.

  And then the Spiro players following behind tripped on Vinny and fell into a heap. Even Coach Earwax got sucked into the gigantic dog pile.

  Becky and I were the last two players to run out of the tunnel, so we saw the wreck unfolding in front of us and quickly veered off.

  The Mighty Plumbers players untangled themselves and escaped the pileup with only a few bruises to their egos.

  All except Vinny. He was at the bottom of the pile. And he was hurt.

  CHAPTER 24

  Poor Vinny. After doing a great job in the first half, he had to sit on the bench with an ice wrap around his bruised ribcage and watch helplessly as the Mighty Plumbers floundered.

  Coach Earwax moved Johnny Hayes from wide receiver to running back. And Becky was given double duty as kicker and wide receiver, taking Johnny’s place.

  Johnny had never played running back in his entire life, so he didn’t know the plays. Jimmy had to explain them to Johnny in the huddle.

  Johnny was a slow learner.

  The “run straight ahead” thing was especially confusing. On his very first carry as the Mighty Plumbers running back, Johnny took the handoff from Jimmy and ran straight ahead into a solid line of Nike Prep defenders.

  Johnny bounced off a tackler and got turned around in the opp
osite direction. I think he must’ve gotten his brain rattled in the confusion because he stuck with the literal meaning of “run straight ahead.”

  And he did. In the wrong direction.

  Johnny ran straight toward the Nike Prep end zone. The Platypuses players stood and watched.

  The only Spiro player to react was Mosi Humuhumunukunukuapua’a. And boy did he ever react. Mosi took off in a dead sprint downfield and caught up with Johnny at the ten-yard line.

  Johnny Hayes was crushed under the weight of his own ginormous Mighty Plumbers teammate.

  Mosi had stopped Johnny from scoring a touchdown for the opposing team, but there was a price to pay: Johnny’s face was smashed into the grass. His nose was broken. Blood gushed out.

  The scene was nearly as shocking as the infamous “Valentine’s Day Schnoz Massacre” during the Mighty Plumbers’ baseball season when Dewey Taylor was beaned in the face by a baseball.

  Up in the bleachers, a Spiro student was so spooked by the bloody scene that he ran out of the stadium screaming at the top of his lungs.

  The Mighty Plumbers’ morbid, season-long curse of injuries continued—and I had not even used the Magic N64!

  Coach Earwax reluctantly put in Joey at running back, even though I think he expected that it would not go well.

  And it didn’t.

  Joey took his first handoff, and he shot through the Platypuses defenders before they even realized he had the ball. Joey ran all the way downfield, almost into the end zone. Then, as usual, Joey’s tiny hands lost control of the football.

  A Nike Prep player scooped up Joey’s fumble and ran it back in the other direction. He would have scored a touchdown, but Jimmy Jimerino caught up to him and with a last-gasp dive at his ankles, he tripped up the Platypus at the ten-yard line.

  Jimmy had prevented a touchdown, but he got up holding his wrist.

  On his throwing hand.

  Derp!

  He was another victim in the ugliest string of injuries in the history of Spiro T. Agnew football. But at least Jimmy was not out of the game. He told Tony Fitz, our athletic trainer, that he wanted to stay in, even if it meant playing with pain.

  Tony was skeptical, but he wrapped Jimmy’s wrist in athletic tape and gave him the green light—on two conditions:

  One: Do not throw the football. And two: Do not run with the football.

  Jimmy was only allowed to take the snap and then hand off the football to the running back.

  Suddenly, our balanced attack had become one-dimensional. The running back would be the only option. Even though Joey was quick as a flea, Coach Earwax could not take another chance on fumble-itis. He needed another running back.

  And that running back was me.

  CHAPTER 25

  Coach Earwax knew I was a speedy runner. (No brag. It’s just a fact.) And my duties as holder for field goals and extra points weren’t exactly taking up a lot of my time.

  But he was probably worried about my “toughness” because Coach knew since the first day of practice that I was not a big fan of tackling or getting tackled. Especially getting tackled.

  Coach Earwax’s other option was Carlos, but it was obvious that my buddy’s mind was not in the game.

  Coach Earwax, in his desperation, briefly considered putting Ricky Schnauzer in at running back. But as soon as Coach glanced his way, Ricky set down a firm boundary.

  Once again, I admired Ricky for taking control. He let Coach know that running with a football into a pack of linebackers and getting his face smashed into the grass didn’t exactly fry his burger.

  Coach Earwax pointed at me, which meant “prepare to go in at running back and get your face smashed into the grass.”

  At that point, I panicked. I had never played running back. I hated getting tackled. And every Mighty Plumbers running back before me had suffered some kind of hideous injury.

  Suddenly, my small intestines started doing backflips, and my legs went wobbly. And it had nothing to do with Becky O’Callahan grabbing me in a bear hug.

  “You can do this!”

  I had lost control. And in my moment of weakness, I abandoned my vow to never again use the Magic N64.

  As usual, Joey predicted everything.

  I asked Joey if he would do me a huge favor.

  I blinked and Joey was gone.

  I hoped he would return with the Magic N64 in about five seconds, but even someone as quick as a flea could not run across town to my house and back that quickly.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time to spare before I would be thrown to the lions—or in this case, the Platypuses.

  The Nike Prep offense was on the ten-yard line. It took four attempts, but the Platypuses scored. Nike Prep had erased our two-touchdown halftime lead and was ahead by seven points at the end of the third quarter.

  Before I jogged onto the field, Coach pulled me aside and gave me a valuable tip because I did not know any more than Johnny Hayes did about the running back position.

  Got it, Coach.

  I huddled with Jimmy Jimerino and the rest of the offense, but my eyes kept scanning the sideline. No Joey! And it had been at least five minutes since he ran off to retrieve the Magic N64 from my stanky closet!

  I looked around in the huddle. I could tell that Jimmy’s wrist was hurting because he sort of cradled it against his chest. He called the play.

  “Zero Zero blast!”

  My number is 00. It was a handoff. To me.

  I looked one more time toward the sideline, just in case Joey had arrived in time to save my life. He was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hut! Hut!”

  Jimmy Jimerino took the snap and turned toward me. I moved forward and he shoved the football into my belly. I grabbed it and ran straight ahead.

  Everything after that was a blank.

  I wasn’t knocked out or anything. Mostly, I was stunned. I had run straight ahead—as instructed—right into Mosi’s okole, which is the Hawaiian word for “rear end.”

  I got stopped at the line of scrimmage by my own teammate!

  I was flat on my back looking up at what I thought was a Goodyear Blimp, but it was just a blimp-shaped cloud. I stood up, and my legs were wobbly. Everyone in the stadium had assumed that I had suffered some kind of hideous injury.

  Including my overprotective turbo-hyper-worrywart mom.

  She hurdled the wall from the bleachers and ran onto the field. I tried to wave Mom off, but I could not stop her from humiliating me.

  Then my mom licked her fingers and wiped a smudge of dirt off my cheek with her germy spit right in front of the entire stadium.

  Derp!

  Mom was escorted off the field by stadium security.

  My runs were stopped two more times and then we punted. I staggered to the bench. Joey finally reappeared. He was out of breath from the round-trip, crosstown run. But he was holding the Magic N64.

  Or what was left of it.

  CHAPTER 26

  Joey told me that he had gotten to my house and found Frenchy and Cleo in another dog tug-of-war with the Magic N64. Somehow, Frenchy had once again broken into my closet and dug it out of my pile of stanky socks. He was obsessed!

  The Magic N64 was cracked and gnawed and soaked in dog and duck saliva, although I think it was mostly Frenchy’s spit. It needed to be repaired before our offense went back onto the field or I would get my face shoved into the grass—or worse.

  Joey snuck over next to Tony Fitz. When the athletic trainer wasn’t looking, Joey quick-as-a-flea borrowed a roll of athletic tape.

  Athletic tape is sort of like duct tape. It’s wrapped on injured feet and ankles and wrists and fingers and other parts of the body as a temporary fix.

  Joey and I taped up the mangled controller. But we had no idea if it still had its mojo.

  I handed the Magic N64 to Joey and gave him some quick tips on how to use it before I ran onto the field.

  My fate was now in the tiny hands of Joey Linguini.

&nb
sp; In the huddle, Jimmy looked directly at me. For the first time since I met him in second-grade, when he tripped me as I walked to my desk, Jimmy seemed sincere.

  “We’re counting on you.”

  Jimmy had been injured, something that he had never foreseen. But now he was taking control as team leader and guiding us in an awkward, one-dimensional offense.

  I actually gained a lot of respect for Jimmy right then, although he sort of spoiled the moment when we broke huddle and lined up for the snap.

  Jimmy set up in the “shotgun” formation, which meant he was standing about five yards behind the center.

  I lined up next to Jimmy. He shouted out the count: “Blue! Zero Zero!”

  Jimmy got the snap and handed me the football. I was counting on Joey and the Magic N64 to guide me through the Nike Prep defense like a character in a video game.

  And it worked brilliantly!

  It’s embarrassing to admit, but when I tucked the football under my arm, I actually closed my eyes. Why? I don’t know. You’d have to ask … well, me. But I don’t even know why!

  Anyway, I must have just trusted that the mojo of the Magic N64 would steer me left and right and all the way to the end zone.

  When I opened my eyes, I had broken through the Nike Prep defensive line and I was running in the clear!

  A large and very motivated Platypuses linebacker almost caught up to me, but I think he allowed too much doubt into his mind.

  I sprinted faster and scored the first touchdown in the entire history of my life!

  The game was tied up with only a few minutes to go in the fourth quarter.

  CHAPTER 27

  The entire Spiro team—including Jimmy Jimerino and his posse—swarmed around me when I got to the sideline. They slapped my back and gave me high fives and fist bumps.

  But there were two important Mighty Plumbers players missing from the celebration:

  My best friends, Carlos and Joey.

  Carlos was still preoccupied with more important things.

  But Joey was waiting until all the hubbub calmed down before approaching me. He held up the Magic N64 between his thumb and forefinger like it was a soiled diaper.