Goal Line (4 page)

And once in a while you succeeded but still weren't happy. He and Tiki had made the team, all right, but then they'd had to spend most of that first season on the bench, watching the older kids play while they waited for a brief chance to get on the field and strut their stuff.

In English class Ms. Bernstein reminded them that by Monday they had to hand in their essay topics for approval. Ronde bit his lip. He'd forgotten all about the contest. He'd been so busy with football practice, school-work, reconnecting with friends, and worrying about his
size, that he hadn't given the contest a moment's thought.

Now he'd have to come up with something fast.

All day long he listened for someone to use a popular saying he could steal for his essay. But no one did—or at least they didn't use any sayings he liked.

“A penny saved is a penny earned” wasn't too bad, but he couldn't see writing a thousand words about it. Besides, he figured lots of kids would use that one. “The early bird catches the worm” was a nonstarter. Ronde hated getting up early. It was all he could do to get himself out of bed in time to catch the school bus!

He was glad when the day finally ended and he could head down to the locker room to meet his new teammates.

The locker room was a beehive of activity, with everyone trying on their new practice jerseys and helmets. He went straight over to Tiki, who was in the center of a big group of veteran players.

“Hey, you guys!” Ronde greeted them. “What's up?”

“Ronde!” a few of them shouted, high-fiving him.

“Yo, little man!” Paco said, giving him a clap on the back.

Ronde gritted his teeth and tried not to let Paco's offhand remark get to him. He'd been “little man” to Paco and some of the other Eagles since seventh grade. And he knew it wouldn't stop, not until he got at least as big as Tiki was now.

Across the room the new players were busy getting
acquainted with one another. Ronde went over and said hello to some of them, starting with the tall, skinny twins who had obviously been tapped as the Eagles' wide receivers of the future. “Yo. Ronde Barber,” he said, offering his hand.

“Felix Amadou,” said one of the twins.

“Frank,” said the other, and they both shook hands with Ronde.

“I see where you guys are gonna switch off starting,” Ronde said. “That's way cool.”

“Yeah,” said Frank. “But I'm way better than Felix.”

His twin gave him a playful punch in the arm. “He's just bragging,” he said. “We both know I'm better.”

Ronde laughed, wondering if all identical twins joked around the same way with each other. It was just like watching him and Tiki!

“See you out there,” he told them. “But just to let you know, neither one of you is catching anything today. Not with me covering.”

“Whoa!” they both said, grinning and nodding their heads. “Listen to him!”

“Just bustin' your chops,” Ronde said, giving them both a slap on the back. “Good luck this year. We're gonna need you guys.”

“Thanks, dude,” said Felix.

“Yeah, thanks,” said Frank. “Seriously.”

Next Ronde went over to Rob Fiorilla, the kid Tiki had
introduced him to. “Hey,” he said. “My brother thinks you're gonna be a big man on the defensive line.”

“I hope so,” said Rob, smiling bashfully. “Did he really say that about me?”

“Uh-huh. Don't stress yourself out, though,” Ronde advised him. “There's a whole lot to learn. It takes time, so don't be too hard on yourself.”

“Thanks,” said Rob. “I appreciate the good word.”

Coach Wheeler called the troops to order with an earsplitting toot of his whistle. Some kids laughed, covering their ears—including Ronde. That was just Coach's way. When he wanted your attention, he got it, no doubt.

“Okay. Welcome, Eagles! Welcome back, reigning state champions!” he began, to a thunderous cheer. “Welcome back to my boys, and welcome for the first time to my new guys! Let's give it up for the seventh graders!”

Another cheer followed, and then Coach Wheeler grew more serious. “Okay, troops. We're gonna go out and do some basic drills and have a little scrimmage. I want you to go as hard as you can without hurting yourselves. Remember, it takes a few practices to get in true game shape. But by next week we ought to be there, if we buckle down and work really hard.

“Today I want the starters on defense facing the subs on offense, and vice versa. That way you'll get the feel of working with the guys you'll be alongside all year. So
let's get out there, take it one play at a time, and see what we've got going, okay?”

One last cheer from the team, and they were on their way out of the locker room, through the big double doors, and out onto the bright green of the Eagles' field. To Ronde it felt like home.

After an hour of routine drills—because of the two-month break, the drills were supertiring—Ronde's group of defenders lined up on the thirty-five yard line against an offense made up of seventh and eighth graders. The eighth graders hadn't seen much action last year, and were excited that now they'd be a real part of the mix.

The seventh graders had been totally wiped out by the series of unfamiliar, intense drills. Tomorrow, Ronde knew, they'd be sore all over. So would they all, for that matter. Still, the newbies were so psyched to be on the team that they kept jumping up and down in the huddle.

Ronde knew what they were feeling—he'd been in their shoes, after all—but after two years on the Eagles, he had learned not to waste an ounce of his precious energy. A seasoned veteran now, he approached his work calmly, saving his energy for the actual plays on the field.

He lined up opposite Felix Amadou. Lifting his helmet, Ronde gave him a wink and said, “Bring it on, dude.”

“You asked for it, little guy,” Felix shot back, teasing.

While Ronde steamed, Felix clapped his hands twice and then got into his set as Jonah James, an eighth grader
who would be the team's second-string quarterback, called the signals behind center. “Hut! Hut, hut! Hut!”

On the snap, Felix took off at full gallop. Ronde was much shorter, but he knew he could match anybody's speed, no matter how long their legs were. Not even trying to give Felix a bump, he kept up with him stride for stride. When the ball arrived, Ronde still had enough energy to make a final leap and knock it away.

“Nice going,” Felix said, offering his hand.

Ronde gave Felix the team handshake. “Thanks. And don't call me ‘little guy.'” Without waiting for a reply, he jogged back to the defensive huddle, leaving Felix to think it over.

Ronde looked over and saw Tiki and the starting offense lined up at the other thirty-five yard line, facing the second-string defenders in their own scrimmage. Manny Alvaro, the starting quarterback, took the snap but had to scramble as Rob Fiorilla raced around the end and came straight at him.

Darting to his weak side, Manny scrambled desperately, and ten yards downfield Tiki, seeing his QB in trouble, ran parallel to Manny so he could dump the ball to Tiki on the rollout.

The play wound up with a big gain, and Ronde was impressed by both sides—Fiorilla on defense (he'd completely fooled the starting right tackle), and Manny and Tiki on offense.

Those two seemed to have great chemistry together. Last year, with Cody Hansen at QB, there had been some problems, although the team had won the championship anyway. A scrambling quarterback like Manny was a perfect match for Tiki, with his quick run-and-cut style. “Those two are gonna tear it up!” Ronde said to himself.

Lining up again, he found himself covering Felix's twin, Frank. Ronde would never have known except that their numbers were different. Felix wore 89, Fred Soule's number from last season. Frank wore Joey Gallagher's old number, 88.

Once again Ronde played his man to perfection.

“Wow!” said Frank after Ronde deprived him of a sure touchdown. “You sure can play, for a little guy.”

Ronde nodded his head. “That's right, big fella. Like I told your brother, don't call me ‘little guy.' Just remember—good things come in small packages.”

And then it hit him—the contest! He'd just come up with the perfect saying for his essay.

“So, what do you think?” Ronde asked Tiki and his mom as they sat together at dinner that night.

“‘Good things come in small packages'?” Tiki said with a crooked grin. “I guess you might as well go with it.”

“Tiki Barber,” said their mom sharply, “are you teasing your brother?”

“No, Mom!” Tiki said quickly. “I—I was just saying I like his topic.”

“And what is
your
topic going to be?” she pressed him.

Tiki shrugged. “I haven't got a clue, to tell you the truth. I'm totally stuck.”

“Don't give up,” Mrs. Barber told him. “You'll think of something, I'm sure.”

“I'm sure I'm going to get an F,” Tiki muttered.

“What? What did you just say?” their mom demanded.

“N-nothing, Mom.”

“I heard you, young man. Now, don't you go giving up on yourself. I won't stand for it, and neither should you.”

“Yes, Mom,” Tiki said, looking down at his plate.

But she wasn't done with him yet. “Your brother couldn't think of anything either—until he
did
,” she pointed out. “And you will too. Keep trying, never give up, and you'll find the perfect saying for you.”

She patted him on the arm, then went into the living room to get something. While she was gone, Tiki muttered, “The perfect saying for me … Well, I guess I could say ‘Good things come in
big
packages.'”

“I'm gonna tell Mom you said that.”

“Don't you do it,” Tiki warned.

“Tell me what?” said Mrs. B., coming back into the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Ronde said. “We were just goofing around.”

“Yeah,” Tiki said, glad Ronde was willing to let it slide.

“Tiki,” said their mom, “if this problem was about football, you know you'd find a solution.”

“I guess that's true,” Tiki admitted.

“Well, school is just as important. You're a good writer. You have nothing to be afraid of. Just bring the same attitude you bring to the football field.”

“Yeah,” Ronde said. “Play proud, Bro.”

Tiki's eyes went wide. “That's it!” he cried, jumping out of his chair. “‘Play proud!' That's my saying!”

“Wait a minute,” Ronde said. “That's not a famous saying!”

“It is in
this
house,” Tiki shot back.

Mrs. Barber settled it for them. “Well, if it's not famous, it ought to be. It was good enough to win the Eagles a championship, wasn't it? You go ahead and use ‘Play proud,' Tiki. Maybe you'll be the one to make your mother's saying famous!”

WHEN GAME DAY FINALLY ARRIVED, TIKI WAS
practically beside himself with excitement. He could barely wait to get into his uniform and out onto the field. For the team's opener Hidden Valley Junior High had gone all out to salute their champions.

The school band was in the bleachers, along with the cheerleaders down in front and the team mascot, Cootie, whipping everybody into a happy frenzy with his antics in his Eagle suit.

When the Eagles themselves ran onto the field, the drum corps struck up a thunderous beat, and the crowd yelled so loudly you couldn't hear yourself think. Glancing across the field at the East Side Mountaineers, Tiki felt sorry for them. The game hadn't even started, but they already looked beaten.

Last year the two teams had played a close game, with the Eagles coming out on top, 18–15. But that didn't tell the whole story. During that game Tiki had played not only running back, but also kicker, replacing Adam Costa, who had been suspended for flunking two of his courses.

This year both teams had a lot of new players. But it seemed to Tiki, just looking at the two teams, that the Eagles had gotten bigger and stronger, while the Mountaineers had lost most of their huge defensive linemen.

After a long, loud salute to the state champions, with Cootie running around the field holding their trophy from last season high over his head, the game finally began.

On the kickoff Ronde sped down the field in a blur and rammed into the Mountaineer return man so hard the kid nearly lost the ball.

The Mountaineers offense got to work, but they didn't get very far. Their quarterback seemed flustered, throwing behind his receivers twice, and getting sacked for a big loss on third down.

East Side punted, and Ronde's return put the ball at midfield. Tiki raced onto the field, eager to get to work. Coach Wheeler had sent his offense in with the first three plays already called, and the first one was an off-tackle play, featuring Tiki.

He took the ball from Manny and ran straight through a hole in the line created by the left guard and tackle.

Tiki felt a rush of excitement carrying him along. It was like he had kicked his playing into a higher gear and everyone around him was moving in slow motion. Putting on a dazzling move, he faked the linebacker right
off his feet, and was into the open, heading straight for pay dirt!

He felt something grab his ankle at the ten yard line, and down he went, holding the ball tightly so it wouldn't come loose. The whistle blew, and he got up smiling. First and goal, Eagles, at the Mountaineers eight yard line!

The next play was a quick out pass to Frank Amadou, who was starting at wide receiver on the right side. He leapt and caught the ball high in the air, but came down out of bounds.

Tiki winced, a rookie mistake. But the kid would learn. He and his twin brother already had great skills; they just needed good coaching. And with the Eagles, they'd be sure to get just that.