Halfback Attack (3 page)

Several boys in school had heard about his playing football with little Jimmie Rose. Harry and Steve had told them about it.
One of the boys was Dick Connors, the Sandpipers’ quarterback — and Dick was in Freddie’s class.

“I heard you really gave Jimmie a spill,” Dick had said first thing this morning. “He’s so
big.
How did you ever get the nerve?”

Dick wasn’t one to tease very often. That was why Freddie could not forget his remark. It stayed with him like an itch he
couldn’t scratch.

When the arithmetic test was over, the students passed their papers to their neighbors across the aisles. Miss Daley then
read off the answers, and everyone marked the papers. When the papers were all marked, they were returned to their owners.

Freddie looked unhappily at his mark: 84. He knew he could have done better. He would have, too, if he could have concentrated.

By the time noon rolled around, he felt better. In history class, he put up his hand almost every time Ms. Daley asked a question.
Whenever he was called on, he answered the question correctly, too.

After school, he went home, dressed in his football uniform, and went to the field. It was the first time he had ever hated
to go to football practice; he was afraid of the greeting he’d receive. He purposely avoided Harry, Steve, and Dick — but
then he noticed Harry walking away from
him.
Could Harry be thinking about Jimmie’s tackling him, and was he embarrassed about it in front of Freddie?

“Okay!” said Coach Sears. “We’re going to try some signal drills. First team, line up!”

Freddie stood back. He wasn’t sure if he was on the first team now or not.

“Come on, Freddie,” Coach Sears said to him suddenly. “Get in right half.”

They went into a T-formation, with Joey Mills at left end, Dave Summers at left tackle, Ken Wallace at left guard, and Stookie
Freese at center. At the right side of the line were Harry Lott at guard, Steve Cook at tackle, and Milt Grady at end. In
the backfield were Dick Connors in the quarterback slot and behind him left halfback Bucky Jensen, fullback Dennis Yates,
and right halfback Freddie.

“Huddle!” yelled Coach Sears.

In the huddle, the coach suggested a crisscross buck, with Bucky carrying. Later they tried laterals, as well as plays with
Dick handing off to Dennis, or sometimes to Freddie or to one of the ends, Joey and Milt. Milt proved a good receiver for
Dick’s long forward passes.

Several times Harry and Dave started off too quickly, and the coach warned them for being offside, a five-yard penalty in
a game.

Then Coach Sears had the second team work on defense against the first. After that he had them all
stand in a double line. The player in the right-hand line would run forward, and the player in the left-hand line would try
to block him.

Afterward they lined up the same way and practiced tackling.

“Dive with your shoulders against his waist, Freddie,” yelled the coach. “At the same time, throw your arms around his knees.
Come on! You can do it!”

Freddie did it. But the boy he tackled was a little smaller than himself. Maybe the coach had arranged it that way.

Then the boys practiced blocking. This was mainly a job for the linemen.

Coach Sears said, “Years ago, the Four Horsemen of Notre Dame became famous all over the country. But it was the Seven Mules
who helped them become famous. The Seven Mules were their men on the line — those blockers who make up the heart of the team
that carries the ball.”

While they were learning how to block, Freddie noticed his mom standing with other people at one side of the field. She was
wearing her brown coat with the fur collar. They saw each other, and she smiled and waved.

There were a lot of dads there watching, but very few moms. Boy, I wish Dad were alive, thought Freddie.

“Okay!” yelled Coach Sears. “That’s all for today. Tomorrow again. Same time. Same place.”

The boys began to scatter. Freddie waited for his mom, who was walking toward him. She put her arm around his shoulders and
walked with him to the car.

A tall boy about fifteen was standing in front of the Chase’s car. He was wearing a maroon jacket with DELMAR printed across
the front of it. It was Coach Sears’s son, Jeff. He played halfback at Delmar High.

“Hi, Mrs. Chase,” he said. “Hi, Freddie.”

“Hello, Jeff,” said Freddie. “This is Jeff Sears, Mom.”

Freddie’s mom smiled. “Hello, Jeff. How are you!”

“Good, thanks,” said Jeff.

Then Coach Sears came over. He said hi and introduced himself to Mrs. Chase. She shook his hand. She said that she hadn’t
wanted Freddie to play football, but his father had played, and so she
had figured it was all right for Freddie to play since he wanted to so much.

“Freddie’s a little afraid of contact yet,” said the coach. “But don’t worry. He’ll make out all right.”

Then he went on. “By the way, Spring College is showing a football movie tomorrow night. Jeff and I are going. I was wondering
if Freddie might like to join us.”

Freddie’s face lit up. “Oh! Can I, Mom?”

Mrs. Chase smiled. “I think so,” she said. “But remember — school the next day!”

Coach Sears grinned. “He’ll be home before nine,” he promised. “I’ll pick up Freddie about a quarter of seven. Let’s go, Jeff.
Good night, Freddie — Mrs. Chase.”

“Good night, Coach,” said Freddie.

The thought of going to the football movie with the coach tomorrow night made Freddie feel important. Maybe things weren’t
so bad after all.

Coach Sears and Jeff stopped by for Freddie a little before a quarter of seven.

The sun had just set behind the hills, leaving a pink sky. Many miles off, Freddie could see the white trails of a jet, like
a needle pulling a thread through the clouds.

“Going to be a cold night,” observed the coach.

They drove out of the city and began to climb the winding road that would take them to Shelden, and Spring College. They crossed
a steel bridge. A narrow river flowed underneath. Freddie saw the sky mirrored in it. He imagined the car flying high in the
sky, and just for a moment felt a thrill pass through him.

They turned left past the bridge.

“Colleges show movies like the ones we’re going to see tonight all the time,” Coach Sears explained. “That way, the players
can seem themselves in action. The coach can point out their weaknesses and tell the players how to improve. I thought you
guys might enjoy the movie, and also get a few pointers on what halfbacks are supposed to do.”

Jeff, who was sitting on the outside with Freddie in the middle, elbowed Freddie. “That’s us,” he laughed.

Freddie grinned. For a moment he felt a bit important.

The road finally stopped winding, and there ahead of them the lights of Shelden winked in the darkness.

Freddie tapped his foot excitedly as he sat between Coach Sears and Jeff in the hall among all those football players. Coach
Sears and the football coach of Spring College, Jim Dickson, had talked to each other awhile just before they sat down, and
Freddie decided they must be longtime friends.

The lights were switched off, and the movie started. It showed the opponents running onto the field. Then the Spring College
players came on.
Everybody in the hall began to clap and some even yelled, but they stopped quickly.

As the teams faced each other on the gridiron, Coach Jim Dickson began to talk.

“This kickoff gave us a good start last week. Bill booted that ball into Penway’s end zone. Now watch our defense when Penway
takes the ball. Look at that hole through right tackle. See that fullback coming through? But where’s our linebacker, number
forty-two? That’s right, there he is! Making the tackle!”

“Linebackers,” whispered Jeff. “That’s what we are, Freddie. That is, if you play defense.”

Freddie didn’t answer. He felt funny all of a sudden. In a game, he should be doing just what that halfback was doing. He
should — but he couldn’t. He could never tackle like that halfback.

The movie continued. And, as Coach Sears had said, Freddie not only enjoyed it, but he learned a few things, too, he guessed.
Maybe — just maybe — it might help him be a better tackler.

Jeff did a lot of talking on the way home. He talked about the movie and about his own high school game last Saturday. He
played both offense
and defense, and the more Freddie heard him, the more he wished he could be like Jeff. Jeff told about the big guys he tackled,
and the big guys he blocked. A guy couldn’t be scared of anything if he could do all those things.

They started down the winding road. The headlights of the coach’s car picked out the tall trees and the white posts.

The coach made a turn in the road. There ahead was the bridge.

Coming down the grade straight ahead of them was a trailer truck. Its headlights blazed like two glaring eyes, and its horn
was blaring.

“Dad!” Jeff screamed. “That truck! It’s out of control! It’s coming right at us!”

“Hold on!” cried Coach Sears. “He’s traveling sixty at least — and on this narrow road! Either something’s gone wrong with
the truck, or that driver’s gone crazy. If I could only make the bridge!”

“But you can’t, Dad!” shouted Jeff. “Dad! He’s going to hit us!”

The truck was hurling toward them, weaving crazily back and forth across the road. In a second …

Coach Sears swung the wheel of the car. There was a crash of metal and stone. Their car bounced like a ball down the hill.

Freddie closed his eyes as tight as he could. He gripped Jeff’s arm with one hand and put his other hand against the dashboard.

An instant later there was a resounding splash as the car plunged into the river.

The car stood tilted at the bottom of the river. Its left side was higher than its right. Freddie heard nothing but the awful
sound of running water. It came from all around them, loud and hissing.

In front, the headlights pierced the watery wall. Less than five feet ahead loomed a tall boulder, standing like a guard against
anyone who dared to go past.

The motor was dead. Coach Sears flicked off the ignition key.

Suddenly the lights dimmed and went out.

“Freddie, are you all right?” asked the coach.

Freddie’s breath came in gasps. “I — I’m all right!”

“How about you, Jeff?”

“I’m all right, too. But Dad, this door won’t open! We can’t get out!”

“Leave that door alone!” shouted his father. Then Coach Sears’s voice softened. “It’s impossible to push that door open against
that pressure, Jeff. We have to wait until the water nearly fills the inside of the car before we can hope to push these doors
open."

“What?” Jeff’s voice was filled with panic. “If we do that, we’ll drown!”

“Don’t get panicky,” advised his father. “We won’t drown. Just be still and listen to me.”

Coach Sears spoke calmly, as if he were not afraid at all. Freddie turned toward him in the darkness. Could Jeff be right?
Might they drown?

The coach patted Freddie comfortingly on the shoulder. “We’ll get out of this,” he said. “Don’t worry. Just be thankful we
got out of the way of that truck.”

Something in the coach’s voice erased the fear inside Freddie. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks for saving
them from being hit by that speeding, lurching truck. He trembled. Then he reminded himself of what the coach had said, and
it helped him to control himself.

Water crept up through the floor of the car. Freddie felt it rising around his shoes.

“We’re going to get mighty wet,” said the coach. “And the water’s going to be cold. But we’ll get out of this all right. Just
listen to me, and don’t get panicky.”

“If we’re waiting for the car to fill up with water, why don’t we open the windows a little?” asked Jeff.

“I’m waiting in the hope somebody might have seen us driving off into this river and will send some help,” said his father.
“Once we’re out of this car and on top of the water, some assistance from the outside would be a big help.”

The water crept higher and higher. It covered their legs, and soon their knees.

Then a light appeared in front of them — a spotlight — from the bridge. It moved about in the water, settled on the boulder
a moment, then on their car!

“Look!” cried Jeff. “Somebody did come!”

A second later, water spilled inside the car from the coach’s side.

“I’ve opened the window a little,” said Coach Sears, “to let the water come in faster. Freddie, can you swim?”

“Yes,” said Freddie.

“Fine. So can Jeff. Take your shoes off now and leave them in the car.”

The water reached their necks. The coach pushed the door open.

“Okay, Freddie,” he said. “You first. Crawl over me and I’ll follow you. Jeff, you follow me. Careful, now. Don’t bump your
heads.”

Freddie crawled over the coach, pushed himself out of the car, and felt himself carried up and away by the river’s current.
At the same time the spotlight from the bridge shone on him, and he was able to see where he was going.