Halfback Attack

by Matt Christopher

  Why do I have to have a cousin like him? thought Freddie. He wished he had poked Mert’s chin shadow once more while he had had the chance.

  He arrived home and found his mom busily vacuuming the living room rug. She was tall, and pretty, even with her hair in curlers. Since his dad had died, she worked during the week in an office and used Saturday to do her housecleaning.

  She saw him walk in the door and smiled. She stepped on a lever on the vacuum cleaner, and it whirred to a stop.

  “Well!” she said. “Who won?”

  “We tied,” Freddie replied. “Twenty-twenty. I’m hungry, Mom. Got anything to eat?”

  “In a minute,” she said. “Change your clothes and wash up.” She frowned then. “Your uniform looks pretty clean. Didn’t you play?”

  He looked away and felt himself blush. “I played some,” he mumbled, and walked to his bedroom, where he started to change out of his uniform.

  She wouldn’t have said that if she’d gone to the game. Hadn’t he made some long runs with the ball? Hadn’t he scored that last touchdown?

  He showered and changed.

  Mom was unplugging the electric cord when he came out. “Put this away for me, will you, Freddie? I’ll get lunch for us.”

  He wound the long cord around the cleaner, then put the cleaner away in a closet.

  “I just remembered,” said Mom. “Jimmie Rose was here a little while ago. He wants you to play with him.”

  Freddie’s brows arched. “Jimmie Rose?”

  She smiled. ≴Yes. He wants to play football with you.”

  “But I just got through playing football!” murmured Freddie.

  “I know. But after lunch, can’t you play with him just a little? He likes you a lot, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Freddie.

  And then he thought, Maybe I can tackle Jimmie. He’s a lot younger than I am. And a lot smaller.

  4

  After lunch, Mom told Freddie he’d better rest awhile before going to Jimmie’s.

  “Don’t want you to get a stomachache,” she said.

  He put on his tan windbreaker and his cap, went out, and sat on the front porch. The sun shone like a thousand glittering diamonds through the tall elm tree standing inside the curb. It speckled him with shadows.

  He got to thinking. He didn’t especially care about playing with Jimmie; Jimmie was too small. Still, he’d never seen a boy quite like Jimmie. Jimmie had more “pep, zip, and vinegar” than anybody Freddie knew.

  When he decided that his food had digested enough, he got up and went to Jimmie’s. Jimmie lived half a block down the street.

  Freddie walked around the large, white house to the backyard. Sure enough, a little boy with very wide shoulders and big numbers on the back of his green jersey was playing with a football. The boy was also wearing a black football helmet with a white stripe through the middle of it, and a face guard.

  “Hi, Jimmie,” Freddie said.

  Jimmie turned. A grin spread like sunshine across his face.

  “Hi, Freddie!” Then disappointment wiped away the smile. “Where’s your uniform and helmet?”

  Freddie shrugged. “Took them off. I played this morning.”

  Jimmie came up to him, the football pressed under his arm. “Will you still play with me, please? In the park across the street? There’s more room there.”

  Freddie thought about it a minute. Jimmie was so little! Why didn’t he ask some kid his own size?

  “I just finished eating,” he said, making an excuse.

  “That’s all right,” replied Jimmie. The disappointment faded quickly from his face. “You don’t have to run much. Come on!”

  Jimmie raced ahead of him out of the yard. Near the street he stopped, watched for cars, then ran across to the park. Freddie shrugged. What could he do? He trotted after Jimmie.

  He was glad that the park was empty.

  Jimmie passed the football to him, then ran in the opposite direction, waiting for Freddie to throw. Freddie tossed a spiral, and Jimmie caught it over his shoulder.

  That kid! thought Freddie. He’s small, but great!

  “Let’s play tackle,” Jimmie suggested after a while.

  “Tackle?” Freddie echoed. “Who — you and me?”

  “Sure!” said Jimmie seriously. “You hike and I’ll run. If I don’t make a TD in four downs, then it’s your turn.”

  Freddie stared. “A TD?”

  “Of course!” replied Jimmie. “A touchdown! That big tree there is the goal line.” That Jimmie was just fantastic!

  Then all at once Freddie remembered some of the things that had happened in the game that morning, and a strange feeling came over him.

  “Let’s play touch tackle,” he suggested. “Then nobody will get hurt.”

  “Get hurt?” Jimmie frowned as if that was the last thing he would think of. “Not me! I have my shoulder pads on, and my helmet! Want to go home and get yours?”

  Listen to him! thought Freddie. I’m making him think I’m afraid! I can’t do that!

  He forced a smile to his lips. “No, never mind,” he said. “Okay. You call signals.”

  Jimmie tossed him the ball. Freddie held it on the ground, and Jimmie began yelling signals: “Four! Two! Five! Hike!”

  At the word “Hike!” Freddie centered the ball to Jimmie. Jimmie caught it and started running past Freddie. He tried to stiff-arm Freddie. Laughing, Freddie reached out and pulled Jimmie gently to the ground.

  “Gained a little!” said Jimmie. “Second down!”

  Suddenly loud applause sounded behind them. “Way to go, Freddie! Nice tackle!”

  Freddie spun. Coming toward them were two of his teammates, Harry Lott and Steve Cook. Freddie’s face turned tomato red.

  “See who he picks on?” Harry said. “Little kids!”

  “Naturally,” said Steve. “He doesn’t dare tackle anybody his size.”

  They both roared with laughter.

  Freddie stood frozen. Now he knew he should not have come here with Jimmie.

  “Go home,” said Jimmie. “Leave us alone.”

  Harry chuckled. He played right guard and was a first-stringer on the team. “Let me see that ball, kid.”

  Jimmie wrapped both arms around the ball. “I will not. You heard me. I said go home!”

  Harry chuckled again. He went up to Jimmie. Jimmie backed away, then quickly passed the ball to Freddie. Steve jumped in front of it and caught it. He and Harry began throwing it back and forth, teasing Jimmie and Freddie.

  “Give me back my ball!” cried Jimmie angrily. “Help me, Freddie!”

  Freddie’s heart pounded. Those bullies, he thought.

  Both Harry and Steve laughed at the way they teased the two smaller boys. The more Freddie and Jimmie tried to get the ball, the louder the boys laughed.

  Then, just as Steve passed the ball again to Harry, Jimmie ran across the ground and dived at Harry’s legs.

  Down went Harry, the ball squirting from his hands!

  Quickly Freddie picked it up. He pulled it firmly against him, then stepped back and looked at Steve. But Steve wasn’t moving. He was looking directly at the two boys on the ground, looking as if he couldn’t believe what he saw.

  Jimmie got up. And then slowly Harry got up. He brushed the dirt from his pants.

  “Come on, Steve,” he said, his face a little red. “Let’s go.”

  Freddie stared at their backs as they left. Then he stared at Jimmie … at the little kid who had tackled big Harry Lott.

  5

  Ms. Daley, Freddie’s teacher, gave the class an arithmetic test on Monday morning. Freddie enjoyed arithmetic. He liked to figure out problems, but this morning he just could not concentrate on what he was doing.

  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.

&
nbsp; “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.

  6

  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.

  7

  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.