Perfect Season

by Tim Green

  That didn’t seem to impress his mom, so he said, “Me and Chuku are calling ourselves the Killer Kombo, combo with a k.”

  “I’m not talking about the team winning, just be careful with all the killer genius stuff and the media.” Something wasn’t working with the coffee machine, and she began hitting the bottom of it with the flat of her hand and jiggling the cord. “Be low-key.”

  “I can’t help what they call me, Mom. I want them to remember me as a player. The Killer Kombo, me and Chuku, connecting for touchdown passes. I want to be known as a football player, not a genius.” He pronounced the word as if it had gone rotten on his tongue.

  “Well, I don’t want reporters camped out in front of the house like what happened in Atlanta is all,” she said, unplugging the cord and putting it into a different socket. “I think I tripped a breaker. You’ll get plenty of attention when the Jets start to win.”

  Troy rolled his eyes and raised his voice. “You’re not listening to me, Mom. I’m not even talking about the Jets. Who cares about the Jets? I’m talking about us, Summit. You’re the one who says you’ve got to enjoy life. That’s all we’re doing, having fun. Chuku’s made a rap song about the Killer Kombo.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Rap?”

  “Chuku, play that song, will you?” Troy asked.

  “Huh?” Chuku looked up from his phone.

  “‘Killer Kombo.’ Can you play it for her?”

  “Uh, sure.” Chuku fiddled with his phone and held it up for Troy’s mom, bobbing his head to the beat while Tate snapped her fingers in time.

  “It’s got people watching on YouTube,” Troy said. “You believe that?”

  The coffee machine light came on. Troy’s mom gave it a loving pat and turned her attention to them, doing her best not to frown. “Very nice, Chuku. Okay, I’ve got to get dressed while this coffee brews. Troy, can you help me upstairs? I want you to move that desk in front of the window in my bedroom.”

  Troy followed her. It didn’t take a genius to see from the look on her face that she wanted him for something altogether different from moving a desk.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  WHEN TROY GOT INSIDE her bedroom, she shut the door. A braided rug covered the wooden floor beneath an old brass bed. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains and dust danced in its beams.

  “Listen, mister, you keep your head on straight with all this . . . Killer Kombo.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head.

  “Mom, I’m the kid who was on Larry King Live and Conan. Today? You think I don’t know? Even you said I’m good with the media.”

  “That was them wanting to talk to you, not you wanting to talk about yourself.”

  Troy blinked and looked out the window. His football tire waffled in the breeze, hypnotizing him for a moment before he looked back at her. “It’s my dream, Mom.”

  “I knew a dreamer once,” she said.

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Your father.” She said it like a swear word and stared hard at him. “Have you seen him?”

  Troy squirmed. Since jumping off a bridge to escape from the FBI, his father had popped in and out of his life, most recently with some mobsters as his partners. His mom knew about all that, but not that he’d shown up suddenly with a red beard. “No.”

  His mom bit her lip. “Well . . . I didn’t want to tell you this, but I think you should know.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  “KNOW WHAT?” TROY ASKED.

  His mom sighed. “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but Seth thought he saw him, your father, watching practice one night from outside the fence. He said the guy had red hair and a pointy beard, but he was pretty sure it was your dad, Troy.”

  Troy realized that must have been what his mom and Seth were discussing when he’d overheard them talking in the kitchen. It made him mad. He knew his father messed things up in a lot of ways, but Troy loved his father, despite the problems. It was his father—a record holder for touchdowns at the University of Alabama—who gave him his athletic ability. So Troy refused to let it go.

  “Not everything is bad about him.” Troy raised his chin. “If I play for five years, and our program wins a bunch of state championships, I’ll be a five-star recruit for sure, just like he was. Maybe I’ll go to Alabama, too.”

  His mom put her face in a hand.

  “I’m serious, you should see how good we look. You should stop by practice later,” he said.

  “If your father tries to contact you, Troy, I want to know about it.” She looked up and frowned. “You hear me?”

  Troy’s mind went into high gear because what she just said didn’t mean he had to tell if he had seen him, only if he did see him. “Okay, I hear you, but you haven’t even seen us. If you did, you’d understand why I’m so excited, Mom.”

  “I’d love to. I really would, but the managing partner has his panties in a bunch about the hospital gala we’re underwriting and I’m to the wall right now. New girl on the block.”

  “The guy wears panties?” Troy’s upper lip left his teeth. He’d heard all about how odd lawyers could be, but the image of the managing partner in women’s underwear stuck in his mind.

  “It’s just an expression,” Troy’s mom said. “Tightie whities in a twist. Is that better?”

  “It’s gross, Mom. Cut it out.”

  “Speaking of underwear, get back downstairs so I can change for work.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” Troy put a hand over his eyes and let himself out of the room.

  As he clunked down the stairs, Seth came in through the front door.

  “What’s up, buddy? You sore from yesterday?” Seth stopped to look him over.

  “My legs feel like punching bags,” Troy said.

  “Good.”

  “Good?” Troy asked.

  “Working hard, right?” Seth gave Troy’s shoulder a pat. “I’m gonna get a quick bowl of cereal and we’ll get to the school a little early. I’ve got some Lawton game film from last year I want you guys to see.”

  The Lawton High Wolverines were the first team on Summit’s schedule. It would be no small feat to beat them. They were a strong playoff team year after year and had ended last season ranked fifth in the state.

  “Haven’t we seen all the tape they gave us two times already?”

  Seth put a finger to his lips and nodded. “But I got a source who got me some more. It’s a game Lawton played two years ago against Kennedy, which also runs a spread offense. It’s the same coach, so I’m sure they’ll run the same defense against us, or they’ll try.”

  “It’s not cheating, is it?” Troy lowered his voice.

  “No.” Seth laughed. “It’s just being thorough, but I don’t like people to know all my tricks.”

  “I like it.”

  “And speaking of tricks . . . you’re all ready to help me out on the sideline when we’re on defense, right? You don’t need to see some more film on their offense?” Seth asked. “This isn’t NFL football; things might not be as predictable. You know, with their tendencies and all that.”

  Troy’s face clouded over. “Won’t I have to be making adjustments with Coach Sindoni on the greaseboard? I need to focus on that more than predicting plays, right? I mean, this isn’t junior league anymore, Seth. If I’m gonna be a varsity quarterback, I need to pay attention to that stuff.”

  Seth rubbed his chin. “Well, if I really need you, though, right? In a pinch? Could you do it? I mean, just pick it up without any preparation at all.”

  “I keep telling you, it’s just a feeling I get. I don’t know why everybody can’t just accept that. I can call a high school game as easy as an NFL game. I did it in junior league, right?”

  Seth shook his head. “The whole thing is pretty freaky, Troy. You can’t blame me for wanting to be sure.”

  “Just trust me. Besides, I want to talk about our offense,” Troy said.

  “You’re right. I want to put in
our rollout packages today,” Seth said. “I’m not sure our tackles can hold up against those Lawton defensive ends—kids are animals—and I want to make sure we’ve got some plays to get you outside the pocket if they get overrun.”

  “Seth . . . um . . .” Troy had kept the question inside for the past two weeks and it was killing him. “When am I gonna get to start running the first-team offense?”

  “Why? You don’t like throwing to Chuku and Levi and Spencer?”

  “I do. When are we all going to be first team?”

  “Trust?” Seth raised his eyebrows. “You got to trust me, too.”

  “I do, Seth, but . . .” Troy hammered his fist into the wall. “This is getting ridiculous. That Reed is acting like he’s some alpha dog, wanting everyone to sniff his butt. I’m sick of it. Lawton is next week. Aren’t you going to put that clown in his place?”

  Seth sighed. “First of all, he’s not a clown, he’s your teammate. Well, maybe he’s kind of a clown, but the second thing is that I have a plan. I’ve had it all along. I know just when I want to do it, and I know just how.

  “Now let me get some breakfast.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  TROY HATED SETH’S PLAN, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  He changed for practice and went out onto the sun-drenched field early with most of the rest of the team. From there, he could see the entrance to the coaches’ offices and team meeting rooms, so he saw when Seth came out with his arm around the shoulder pads of Grant Reed. The two of them arrived at the field together and Seth blew his whistle. Instead of sending the team to get warmed up, he called them all in.

  Troy took a knee and chomped on his mouthpiece.

  “Guys,” Seth said, looking around at them with his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, “you’ve worked hard. You’ve had a great camp. This is our last double-session practice day. Tomorrow is a light walk-through and Saturday is our intrasquad scrimmage. Next week, school starts. A week from tomorrow, we take the field against Lawton, and it’ll be the beginning of something special, something Summit football has never been a part of, a championship. We’ll be playing one of the best teams around. Summit hasn’t beaten Lawton in twenty years, but it starts with them.

  “In order to win, I’m going to make some changes. We’ve allowed guys to play positions they wanted and given the first-string spots based on seniority. That’s all over. Every move I make now is so that we can win. I told you from the beginning, that’s how it would be. If you don’t like what I’m about to do, you go to your individual coach and let him know. He’ll explain our decision. If you can’t work it out with him, then you and he will come to me. Do not go home to Mommy and Daddy and gripe about your position or what team you’re on. I will not discuss any of that with parents unless you’ve first talked to your position coach, then to me. Everyone understand that?”

  Seth’s voice oozed with authority and simmered with aggressiveness.

  “Good. Now, I’ve made a decision on captains. It’s a great honor to be a captain, and there were several of you who could have gotten it, but not everyone can be one. I picked two, and I want to introduce them to you now. First, Chance Bryant.”

  Everyone clapped, no one harder than Troy. Chance’s face went red, but he stood, towering over the rest of them, and went to shake Seth’s hand.

  “Stay right here.” Seth grabbed Chance’s collar to keep him in front of the team. “Chance is our offensive captain. On defense . . . our captain is Grant Reed.”

  There was an instant of shock when no one clapped, then Billy Tomkins started a thunderous applause and the rest of the team followed, with some—like Troy—doing only what was required, no more. Reed grinned and it was obvious he already knew his captaincy was coming.

  Seth blew his whistle and had the team warm up. They ran through individual drills and then went to team defense. Reed played strong safety with Tomkins right in front of him at middle linebacker. Troy didn’t play defense, and neither did Chuku, Levi, or Spencer, so they helped out on the scout team, mimicking Lawton’s offense as best they could for the Summit defense to practice against. Reed had always been a loudmouth, but now, as a captain, he seemed even more vocal, howling and barking at his teammates.

  It made Troy mad. Reed was such an arrogant jerk, but Seth said Troy had to trust the decision, so he would try.

  After one play, when the defensive end let the scout team runner get outside him and gain seven yards up the sideline, Reed yelled at his own defensive player, “Let’s go! You think that’s good enough? It’s not!”

  “Reed!” Seth shouted, but then marched across the field to where Reed was to give him a friendly pat on the back and talk in a cheerful undertone. “You’re the captain, not the coach. I’ll let you know when my job is up for grabs. Okay?”

  Reed grinned at Seth and returned to the huddle.

  The camaraderie between them made Troy want to puke. After a couple of dozen or so more plays, the team took a water break and then Seth gathered them together again.

  “Okay, the starting offense is going to look a little different today.” Seth looked down at his clipboard. “Chuku, you take the Z, you’re our fastest guy and the outside receiver on the strong side.”

  “Now, Coach . . .” Chuku held up both hands and paced a bit. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the Z is like Andre Johnson and Randy Moss and . . . well, Jerry Rice, too, right! I mean, Z is the go-to guy, right?”

  Seth blinked at Chuku, then couldn’t contain himself. He grinned and nodded. “Yup, that’s you, Chuku. The go-to guy.”

  “I just love this game, Coach.” Chuku shook his head. “And the nice thing about it is, this game loves me.”

  Seth chuckled and turned back to the rest of the team. “Levi, you’re the X, outside receiver on the weak side. Spencer is the Y, inside Chuku in the slot. Galbato, I want you at right tackle. The rest of the line stays how it’s been, with Molnar and Dranzack at guards, Big Nick Lee at center, and Chance at left tackle.”

  Seth looked at Troy, then at Grant Reed. Troy’s stomach clenched. He knew what was coming and he knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  “TROY, YOU TAKE Q.” Seth held up his hands, anticipating problems. “I know Reed has been Q. He’s maybe our best defensive player, and now he’s a team captain, but Coach Sindoni keeps track of everything everyone does at that position, every completion, interception, touchdown, fumble, everything. It’s simple. He graded them out and Troy was clearly the top performer.”

  Seth glared at Reed, as if to remind him of the deal Troy knew he’d made in making Reed a captain. Reed bit his lip and nodded.

  “Now, the rest of you guys.” Seth looked around. “Before you get yourselves worked up, I know this’ll be the youngest high school offense in the country, but it’ll also be the fastest, and that’s how we’re going to turn this thing around. I want the offense lightning fast. It’s like putting a featherweight up against a heavyweight, but if the featherweight is a Golden Gloves and the heavyweight is a slob, you bet the featherweight is gonna knock him out cold, and that’s what we’re gonna do. We gotta save our mauling and brawling for when we’re on defense. That’s how you win games—defense. On offense, like the great Ali said, we float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.”

  Seth glared at the team and he raised his voice. “Don’t you doubt me, not any of you.”

  Troy snuck a look at Reed, who scowled back and clamped down tight on his mouthpiece.

  “Listen to what I’m saying,” Seth said. “We are going to be champions. Bring it in, ‘champions’ on three, and then give me that first offense with a scout D.”

  The team gathered around Seth, holding up their helmets in a cluster above their heads.

  “One, two, three . . .”

  “CHAMPIONS!”

  Players flooded to their positions on the field, Troy in the center of the first-team huddle. He looked around at the older kids, the
big linemen with their bulging muscles.

  Chance Bryant—who was both huge and in need of a shave—stuck out a hand. Troy took it.

  “You’re our QB,” Chance said. “I don’t care if you wear diapers, you better believe we got your back. On the field and off, like I said before.”

  Troy wanted to ask why Chance thought he might need anyone to watch his back off the field. Chance was staring at Troy, waiting for some response. So Troy thanked the older player and tried not to sound scared.

  When Galbato stuck out his hand as well, Troy was even more surprised. The enormous player was one of the ones right in there grinning and laughing with Reed and Tomkins whenever they had a baby joke going. Maybe being elevated to the starting team himself gave the big guy a new appreciation for Troy.

  As they jogged out onto the field to form the huddle, Chuku grabbed Troy’s face mask, pulling him close.

  “This is it, bro. It’s you and me, the Killer Kombo. This is our team. You feel it?”

  Troy felt a surge of joy at the sound of Chuku’s words. He laughed out loud. “I know. It is our team!”

  As they ran through the script of plays, Troy got more and more comfortable with his new status. He began marching the offense up and down the field with precision and efficiency, completing nearly every pass and carrying out fakes that stumped the defense.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  THAT NIGHT THE LOCKER room buzzed with excitement, and Troy knew the older players believed the things Seth had told them. Confidence added a glimmer to their eyes, and, except for Grant Reed, most of them treated Troy like a lucky horseshoe, not quite part of them but something they appreciated even if they didn’t completely understand how it worked.

  Troy and Chuku said their good-byes and walked out into the evening air. They sat around in the bleachers waiting for Seth to finish meeting with his coaches so they could get into the truck and head for home.