Laggan Lard Butts (4 page)

“Mr. Davidson, you can't let them suggest that name,” Sarah pleaded.

“So far it hasn't been nominated. We haven't had a formal nomination or a second,” he said.

“I'll nominate it!” Tanner called out. “I think the school teams should go by the name Laggan Lard Butts. Do I have somebody to second my nomination?”

“I second it!” Taylor yelled out.

“Sir, they can't really put that name forward, can they?” Sarah asked.

Before he could answer I jumped in. “According to the rules there's no reason why they can't. It doesn't break any of the rules, does it Mr. Davidson?”

“Not break, but it hasn't satisfied all the rules yet. So far we have a name but nobody to campaign for it.”

“That's right!” Sarah exclaimed. “So, Sam, will you be the campaign chairman for the Lard Butts?”

“I didn't suggest it.”

“Lots of talk, but nothing to back it up,” Sarah taunted.

“Fine, I'll do it,” I said before I'd had time to think about what I was saying. “I'm going to be the chair and I need people to work with me.”

“Count me in,” Tanner said.

“I'm in too!” Taylor yelled out.

“Then that makes it official. Any more names to add to the mix?” Mr. Davidson asked.

“Not another name,” Sarah said. “I was just hoping that there was space on the Leopard team for me to be part of it.”

“Sure!” Katie exclaimed. “I'm glad you can help me.”

Sarah smiled at Katie and then looked at me. “I'm happy to try to change the name to something good.”

I smiled back. Let the games begin.

I put up a shot. It hit the rim and bounced away. I'd hardly made a shot during the whole warm-up. I hoped that old saying was true: bad warm-up, great game.

“So any ideas?” Tanner asked.

“Let's start zone and then go man if they start hitting from the outside.”

“I'm not talking about the game. I meant do you have ideas about the campaign?”

“What?” I asked in disbelief.

“The campaign, the name change. Do you have any ideas? I've been thinking we really have an uphill battle to get people to choose Lard Butts as a team name.”

“How about if we talk about the
team
instead of the team
name
,” I suggested.

“We really have to talk about this.”

“Now?” I asked, gesturing around me.

“I guess it can wait until after the game,” he said.

“If we don't win this game we'll have lots of time because that will be the end of our season,” Taylor added.

I hated the thought of losing, but winning didn't have much appeal either. If we won we'd get into the play-offs. Getting into the play-offs meant playing the first place team—the team that had killed us in the two games we'd played, the team that would kill us again in the play-offs. Maybe it would be better to have a close loss to end the season now instead of a blowout embarrassment later.

“Think we can take ‘em?” Taylor asked.
They're not that much better than us. We could have taken them that first game.”

“Could have, should have, would have, didn't,” I said.

“Just think,” Tanner said. “If we beat them our reward is getting killed in the play-offs. It might be easier to end it all here.”

“Don't say that!” I snapped angrily.

“I don't mean we should try to lose!” he said, defending himself.

“I know, I know.” I hadn't been angry with him as much as I was mad at myself for thinking what he'd had the guts to say.

“What happens afterward doesn't matter. What happens now does. We're gonna take these guys.”

“Time-out!” Taylor yelled as he fell on the loose ball and wrapped his arms around it.

The ref whistled down the player. Tanner offered his brother a hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Way to go buddy, way to go!” Cody exclaimed.

I looked up at the clock. We were up by
one point with seven seconds left on the clock and we had the ball! It would be pretty hard to lose now. We'd won our third win of the year and—wait a second—they had three wins too. Who would finish sixth?

“Coach, what happens when two teams are tied at the end of the season?”

“What?” Mr. Davidson asked.

“Tiebreakers. What happens if two teams are tied at the end of the season? Who gets sixth place?”

“I'm not really sure. Probably head to head games.”

“But we both will have won once,” Taylor said.

“Then possibly total score in those games.”

Instantly I knew. They'd beaten us by two points in the first game. If we only beat them by one point, then they'd take sixth, and we'd be out of the play-offs. For a fraction of a second I had to fight a sense of relief.

“We have to score. We have to beat them by more than two points or they're in and we're out,” I said.

“Are you sure?” Tanner asked.

“I'm not sure about anything. Do you have a copy of the tiebreaker rules in your shorts? I just know we have to try to score. Winning isn't enough.” I looked at Mr. Davidson. “Coach?”

“Go for it.”

“Okay. Tanner you throw the ball in. Everybody else get in tight. I'm going to break long so you have to heave a football pass to me. Got it?”

“Piece of cake.”

“Okay, let's break and—” “Wait,” Tanner said. “Everybody put your hands together.”

Hand over hand we piled our hands making a big, multi-layered hand sandwich.

“On three I want everybody to yell,
Go, Lard Butts
!”

We all looked at him with the same stunned expression.

The score table buzzed to signal the end of the time-out.

“You heard me. I want you all to give that cheer.”

“Is that okay, Coach?” Cody asked.

“Why not?”

“Good,” Tanner said. “One, two, three—”

“Go, Lard Butts!” we all yelled and then we burst into laughter.

Suddenly all of the tension was gone. Everybody looked relaxed. We got into position on the court.

The ref handed the ball to Tanner. We settled into a tight stack, and the crowd began cheering for their team to take away the ball and score. I broke quickly in and then cut back in the opposite direction. I was completely open, and Tanner tossed the ball. It was long and way over my head! I jumped up, extending as far as I could. The ball just brushed the tips of my fingers. I chased it down, grabbed the ball and went for a lay-up. The ball dropped through the net at the same time the buzzer sounded. It counted!

We'd won, and, even better, we were in the play-offs!

We all stood at attention in the office while the last few notes of the national anthem played. Over to the side, beside their mailboxes, a couple of teachers were holding a whispered conversation. I fought the urge to shush them the way they would have if it had been us talking. Did respect for your country stop when you got to a certain age and position? I was pretty darn proud of
myself for not saying anything, though. At the start of the school year I would have, but now I was starting to understand that it would only get me in trouble.

“Please be seated,” Taylor said over the PA as the music ended.

Students worked in threes to do the announcements each week. It was our week. Personally I hated it, but both Tanner and Taylor were hams. They would have liked to be in charge of the announcements every week.

“The senior choir will meet at first recess in the music room to rehearse for the graduation assembly,” Tanner said.

He handed me the microphone.

“This is the last week to hand in permission forms for the grade eight field trip,” I read off the sheet. “Remember, no form, no trip.”

I made a mental note. I hadn't returned my form yet. I was pretty sure it was somewhere in my locker, or my bedroom, or maybe my backpack. That narrowed it down.

“Now for our thought of the day, as written by our principal, Mr. McGregor.
‘Winners never quit and quitters never win,'“ Taylor read. “Definitely words to live by. And speaking of winning, yesterday, in a dramatic win, the boys' senior basketball team won their game by a score of forty-three to forty. This win propelled the team into sixth place in the standings and into the play-offs. The first play-off game is scheduled for next Tuesday.”

Tanner came up and took the microphone and both he and his brother leaned right into it. “Go, Lard Butts!” they yelled.

My mouth dropped open. I looked over. The two teachers by the mailboxes had stopped talking.

“And that concludes our morning announcements. Have a great day!” Tanner sang out and then put the microphone down on the top of the file cabinet.

We started to walk out of the office.

“How'd you like our little advertisement?” Tanner asked.

“Caught me by surprise,” I admitted.

“We need name brand recognition,” Taylor said.

“What?”

He chuckled. “I was reading about advertising on the Internet last night. The secret to selling something is to get everybody talking about it.”

“But we're not selling anything,” I argued.

“Yes we are. We're selling a name.”

“And the only way to get people to buy that name is for everybody to see and hear it everywhere. We have to make banners and posters and—”

He stopped mid-sentence and we all skidded to a stop. There on the wall was a poster. In big bold letters it read,
Leap forward and vote for the Laggan Leopards
.

“I think somebody else checked out the Internet last night,” I said.

“I think somebody named Sarah,” Tanner said, “at least judging from the art work on that poster.” There was a beautifully drawn picture of a leopard leaping through the air. Sarah wasn't just the student president, she wasn't just really smart, she was also the best artist in the school. She was really annoying.
“What do we draw on our posters?” Taylor asked.

“That's a problem. It's isn't like we can draw a really fat—”

“Shouldn't you boys be getting to class?” We spun around. It was Mr. McGregor. He didn't look too happy...then again, did he ever really look happy?

“Interesting announcements this morning,” he said, cutting off my thought.

“We try to do a good job,” Tanner said. “By the way, your thought of the day was one of your best.”

“Really got me thinking,” Taylor agreed. Mr. McGregor looked even less happy. “Would one of you like to explain that last part of the announcements?”

Tanner and Taylor looked at each other as if they had no idea what he was talking about. I wondered if they were trying to make me explain. I wasn't that stupid.

“Oh, do you mean the ‘Go, Lard Butts' part?” Tanner asked, trying to sound innocent.

Mr. McGregor nodded sternly.

“I guess that was a little out of line, but we're just so excited about the contest you gave permission for...you know, renaming the school teams.”

“You want to call the school team the Lard Butts?” he asked in shock.

“That's one of the nominated names,” Tanner said. “Not quite as catchy as Leopards, is it?” he said pointing at the poster. “Leap forward and vote for the Laggan Leopards,” he said. “That is one catchy slogan.”

I knew what they were doing. They were trying to distract him. They were very good at that.

“Probably the winning slogan,” Taylor added. “Can't see any other winning.”

“I don't know,” Tanner said. “The Laggan Dragons is pretty good too, but I have to wait to hear their slogan.”

“Probably something about catch fire for the Laggan Dragons, you know because of fire-breathing dragons. It's even medieval like the Lairds so it sort of has tradition on its side.”

“Who, may I dare ask, suggested the name
Lard Butts?” Mr. McGregor asked. So much for distraction.

“Originally?” Tanner asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, I'm not really sure, I wasn't there. It was somebody from another school. Do you remember who it was, Sam?” Taylor asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah, well it was you who he said it to.”

“Um, the point guard, the backup point guard, for Maple Ridge, number four, but I don't know his name.”

“And I imagine it was you who then suggested it for the school team name,” Mr. McGregor said.

“No, not me!” I said, holding up my hands.

“Then who?” he asked, his gaze shifting back and forth between the twins.

“I think it was me,” Tanner said.

“It might have been me,” Taylor said. “It's funny, even we get confused which one of us is which.”

I burst out laughing, but Mr. McGregor's fierce look burned that out really quickly.

“Do you boys really believe that Lard Butts is an appropriate name for the school team?”

Neither twin answered. Both of them looked down at their feet.

“Well, boys, do you?”

“I guess not really,” Taylor said, still not looking up at Mr. McGregor.

“Maybe not the best,” Tanner agreed.

“Good, because I'm going to disallow that name.”

“I don't think you can,” I said.

Now everybody's mouths dropped open. “What did you say?” Mr. McGregor asked.

“I don't think you can. Lard Butts isn't a bad word. It was nominated by one person and seconded by another. According to the rules—the rules you approved—there's nothing wrong with it.”

“It is disrespectful.”

“Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. That isn't the question. I just don't think you can simply wave your hand and make that name go away.”

“No one is waving his hand, but I am the principal.”

“That's why you can't do it,” I said. “You gave your word that we could nominate names. You set the rules and now you want to change them. What sort of message is that? That if you're in charge you don't have to keep your word? Is that how it works in a democracy? If you don't like one of the candidates you simply say they can't run?”