Lacrosse Face-Off

by Matt Christopher

  Garry, meanwhile, found himself paired with Michael most often—much to Evan's chagrin, he noticed. In fact, Evan reminded Garry of a cartoon he'd seen once in which a small puppy followed a bulldog everywhere, doing everything the bulldog asked him to do, no matter how absurd the request. In Garry's mind, Evan was that puppy, willing and eager to do anything Michael asked of him.

  Well, Garry wasn't about to take Evan's place as Michael's puppy, but he had to admit he liked working out with the best player on the team. Who wouldn't?

  Early in the week, Coach Hasbrouck had announced that the team would host a car wash that Saturday to raise money for their annual dues to the league. Michael had raised his hand and asked why they couldn't just ask their parents to pay the dues for them. Mr. Hasbrouck had replied that he preferred for the money to come from a team effort. “If we all work together, we'll have no problem earning what we need,” he'd said.

  After practice on Friday the coach reminded them to be in the school parking lot bright and early on Saturday morning. He asked everyone to bring a bucket and a rag or sponge. Jeff volunteered to make signs. Todd immediately said he'd help him. So instead of going home with Garry that night, Todd went with the Hasbroucks.

  As Garry watched his brother walk to the parking lot with Jeff and the coach, he felt a spark of jealousy. Todd had pulled out his stack of monster-and-magician cards and was showing them to Jeff. Jeff was nodding enthusiastically.

  Then Garry shrugged. Jeff is probably just lonely, being new in town and all, he told himself again as he climbed into his mother's car. Or maybe Jeff feels sorry for Todd. I know I do, the way he lumbers around the field, trips over his feet, and misses practically every ball thrown to him. But what can you do? You can't make someone into a lacrosse player overnight!

  4

  The next morning was warm and sunny, perfect weather for a car wash. Garry changed out of his pajamas and into a bathing suit and T-shirt and headed down the stairs for breakfast. Todd was already at the table. Three trading cards were spread out in front of him.

  “New cards?” Garry asked.

  Todd nodded. “Jeff and I traded last night after we finished the signs. He's got a whole stack too.” He gathered up the cards, secured them with the rubber band, and glanced at his watch. “You better eat something quick, or we'll be late for the car wash.”

  Garry grabbed two doughnuts out of a box, crammed one into his mouth, chewed and swallowed, then ate the other one in two bites. He washed it all down with a glass of juice.

  “Ready!” he said, his mouth ringed with powdered sugar.

  Mrs. Wallis drove them to the school. They collected their buckets and sponges from the trunk and hurried to join their teammates. Jeff waved to them as they approached.

  “Don't the signs look great?” he called. “It was Todd's idea to do them on black poster paper and outline the neon green paint with glitter, so the words would stand out more. You can see them a mile away!”

  Garry had to admit that the signs looked good, and he told his brother as much. Then the car wash began.

  Mr. Hasbrouck had organized the perfect washing system. Cars drove to a spot where a boy waited with a hose. When the car was completely wet, two other boys slopped sudsy water onto every inch of the vehicle. Another scrubbed the tires, and a fifth polished the mirrors and fenders. Then the first boy hosed it clean, and it was the next car's turn.

  Garry, Jeff, Todd, and two other boys worked as one team, while the other boys broke into three more groups of five. By noontime, the four car-washing squads had cleaned nearly fifty cars and earned enough money for the league dues.

  “I'm starving!” Jeff announced, throwing his worn-out sponge into an empty bucket. “Dad, didn't you bring a bunch of sandwiches and chips?”

  “Sure did.” He gestured to a large cooler resting on the grass. “There should be enough sandwiches for everyone to get one. Drinks too.”

  The boys cheered, and Jeff and Todd set about distributing the food. Garry had just popped the last bite of his peanut-butter-and-jelly into his mouth when a blast of cold water struck him in the back.

  “Hey!” he cried. He turned to find Michael grinning and pointing a hose at him. Garry grinned back, jumped to his feet, and tackled the older boy. They wrestled for a minute, then Garry freed the hose from Michael's grasp. “Now you're going to get it!” he bellowed.

  He cranked the nozzle on. Nothing happened. Puzzled, he turned the nozzle toward himself, trying to see what was wrong. Suddenly, water shot out and hit him directly in the face. With a yelp, he dropped the hose. When his vision cleared he saw Evan bent over laughing, one hand on the spigot.

  He also saw Todd and Jeff sneaking up behind Evan with a bucket of sudsy water. Two seconds later, the bucket was empty, Evan was soaking wet, and Todd, Jeff, and everyone else on the team were the ones doubled over with laughter.

  “Hey, that's not funny!” Evan's face was purple with anger.

  Coach Hasbrouck handed him a dry towel. “Oh, come on now, Evan, it's just a little soap and water,” he chided. “You know, good clean fun!”

  Evan gave Todd and Jeff one last dirty look, then stalked away to sulk.

  The rest of the boys gathered up the sponges, towels, soap, and buckets. Then the coach called them together. “Okay, boys, good work today. I hope to see the same kind of teamwork next week. I've arranged for us to play a scrimmage on Friday against the Panthers.” The team buzzed with excitement. “Practices will focus on game situations for most of next week. That means plenty of running, boys, so be sure to get your rest this weekend.”

  5

  Monday afternoon, Coach Hasbrouck put the team through ten minutes of warm-ups. After the laps were done, he worked on stick skills, then moved on to checking drills.

  “Those of you new to the Junior Division will face body checking for the first time this season,” he reminded them. “The referees will be watching you carefully to be sure you're doing this move correctly and legally.”

  He motioned for Jeff to step forward. “Body checking is legal only when done to the ball carrier or to an opponent who is within five yards of the ball. Contact is made below the shoulder and above the knees, to the front or side of the body.” He indicated the legal checking areas on Jeff's body. “Like a tackle in football, you run at your opponent and drive into him with your shoulder and upper body.” He demonstrated the move on Jeff in slow motion.

  “Use your heads when bodychecking. Or rather,” he corrected with a grin, “don't use your heads. Helmets or no, checking with your head will hurt.”

  Everyone laughed until the coach held up a gloved hand. “Lacrosse is an aggressive game, so be prepared to check and be checked. But be warned: if you illegally bodycheck an opponent, the ref will give you a one-, two-, or even three-minute penalty. Three minutes is a long time to run a team short sided, folks. The other team can score a whole lot of goals if they have one less player to worry about.”

  Coach Hasbrouck instructed them to pair . off and practice body checks. Garry looked to see if Michael wanted to partner up, but Evan had already claimed him. So instead Garry practiced the move with another sixth-grader, a stocky but surprisingly quick boy named Christopher. They knocked each other back and forth for ten minutes, trading places as ball carrier and checker.

  Finally, the coach called everyone together and told them it was time to scrimmage. He divided the team into two squads of ten and assigned each player a position.

  Garry was an attacker, along with Michael and a sixth-grader named Carl. Carl looked nervous until Michael slung an arm around his shoulders and said, “Don't worry, kid, just feed me the ball and I'll take care of everything.” Michael pointed a finger gun at Garry and added, “Same goes for you, Wallis. The name of the game is put-the-ball-in-the-net, and I'm the one who does that best!”

  Behind the attackers were three midfielders, seventh-grade boys Garry was still getting to know. Behind them were the three defenders. Todd was wi
th this group, on the left. Jeff was in goal.

  Coach Hasbrouck called the two center attackers together for the face-off. Michael and his opponent lowered their sticks to the ground and crouched down over them, their helmets nearly touching. The coach put the ball between the centers, took a step back, and blew his whistle.

  Michael exploded into action. He flipped his stick over, clamped the ball, and raked it away from his opponent in one smooth motion. Carl ran in and scooped up the loose ball. He immediately passed it to Michael, who sprinted downfield toward the opposite goal. Garry hustled after him, ready to help out as needed.

  But Michael didn't need help. Cradling the ball in the pocket, he cut left, dodged around a midfielder, and used his body as a shield when a second player tried to stick-check the ball loose. Suddenly, he was in the attack area to the right of the goal. He slashed his stick downward and threw. The hard white sphere hurtled past the goalie and swished into the net.

  “Yes!” Michael cried, pumping his gloved fist above his head. He pretended to lick his finger and chalked up a tally mark in the air. Then it was back to center field for another face-off.

  Once again Michael pulled the ball away from his opponent, but this time it was the other team that captured it. The right attacker threw it to his center, a sixth-grader named Conor. Conor started to run downfield, but Michael bodychecked him before he had gone two steps. The bump came as a surprise to the attacker, and he stumbled. The ball popped free. Michael was about to scoop it up when Coach Hasbrouck blew his whistle to stop the play.

  “Okay, boys, let's try to keep the body checks to a minimum for this scrimmage,” he called. “I don't want anyone getting hurt before our first game. Focus on your passes and on working the ball around the field instead.” The coach tossed the ball to Conor and jogged to the sideline. His back was turned, so he didn't see Michael roll his eyes in disgust.

  But practically everyone else on the team saw it. And Garry was close enough to hear Michael mutter, “Just what I always wanted: a team of wusses, coached by the head wuss himself.”

  6

  For the rest of the week, the coach followed a similar format for practices—warm-ups followed by drills, and then scrimmages. Midway through Wednesday's practice, he showed them the proper technique for a poke check, holding his stick parallel to the ground and jabbing his opponent's stick to make him drop the ball.

  “And remember,” he added, “the ball carrier's gloved hand is considered part of the stick, so it's legal to poke-check that hand. Anything else, however, is off-limits. You'll be called for slashing, a one-minute penalty. Also, if you use the shaft of the stick to check, you'll be called for cross-checking, which earns you, you guessed it, a one-minute penalty. So just use the head with the poke check, all right?”

  During scrimmages, the coach mixed up the teams often, trying different players out in different positions. After Thursday's practice, he called everyone together to announce the starting lineup for the next day's scrimmage against the Panthers.

  “Attackers will be Garry, Michael, and Conor.”

  Garry and Conor exchanged high fives. Garry turned to do the same with Michael, but Michael just grimaced and said, “Dude, back off. My starting position was a given.”

  “Evan, Jeff, and Samuel will be at midfield,” the coach continued. “At defense, let's have Carl, Eric, and Brandon. Christopher will be in goal.”

  Then he passed out the team uniforms. “Brand-new this year,” he said, handing Garry a jersey with the number 33 on it. The shirt was reversible—white on one side for home games, bright yellow on the other for when the team played away games. The team name, “Rockets,” was in bold black lettering on both sides.

  As Garry put his jersey into his equipment bag, he heard someone stifle a snicker.

  “No way that shirt'll fit over his gut and his pads!”

  Garry jerked his head up. He saw Todd holding his jersey up against his body—and Evan and Michael laughing together.

  Todd must have heard them too. He balled up the jersey and shoved it into his duffel bag, a dull red flush creeping up his neck.

  Garry looked away, feeling embarrassed for his brother and wishing again that Todd were in better shape. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jeff pull Todd aside and start talking to him in a low voice. Todd's face cleared. He nodded a few times, said “be right back,” and headed toward Garry.

  Garry quickly busied himself with zipping his bag, trying to act as if he hadn't heard and seen everything.

  “Could you tell Mom I'm going to Jeff's house?” Todd said when he reached him. “Coach Hasbrouck will drive me home before dinner.”

  “Uh, sure, Todd,” Garry said, still not facing his brother. He could feel Todd staring at him, though, and he was about to return the look when Michael called to him.

  “Hey, Wallis, Evan and me are heading to the candy store. Want to come?”

  “Let me check with my mom,” he called back. He finally looked at his brother, but the hurt he saw in Todd's eyes was so strong that he quickly lowered his gaze. “I guess I'll see you at home later.”

  “Whatever.” Todd spun on his heel and headed toward Jeff. Garry picked up his equipment bag and walked to where Michael and Evan were horsing around. For some reason, he felt as if he was joining the enemy.

  The next morning, Garry entered the kitchen determined to make amends with his brother.

  “Hey, Todd,” he said during breakfast, “want to walk to school together?”

  Todd gave him a suspicious look. Usually Garry ran ahead to school, complaining that his brother walked too slowly.

  “Come on,” what do you say?” Garry wheedled.

  Todd agreed reluctantly. They shouldered their backpacks and picked up their equipment bags and lacrosse sticks from the garage. The silence as they walked was so stony that after five minutes Garry felt like screaming, just to hear a noise. Instead, he asked Todd what he and Jeff had done after practice the day before.

  “You guys trade some more cards or something?”

  “No,” came Todd's short reply.

  “Oh.” More silence. He tried again. “Hey, you want some gum? I got some yesterday when I was at the candy store with… um, when I was at the candy store.” He dug a piece out of his pocket with his free hand. “Here, it's sugarless.”

  Todd stared at the gum. Then he gave a small smile, shifted his lacrosse stick to his other side, and reached toward his brother's outstretched hand. As he did, something green whizzed past him and struck his arm.

  “Ow!” Todd cried, dropping his lacrosse stick and equipment bag so he could clutch the injured spot. “What was that?”

  Garry had already found the object that had hit his brother. With his lacrosse stick, he reached over and scooped up a green Super Ball.

  “Whose is that?” Todd asked.

  “It's Evan's. He bought it at the candy store yesterday.”

  Todd glanced around nervously.

  Garry tossed the ball up and caught it with his stick. “Evan, come out or I'm chucking this thing so far you'll never find it.”

  “You do and you'll be sorry.” Evan jumped down from the tree where he'd been hiding. “Give it here,” he demanded.

  Garry quickly lifted the head of his stick high above his head. “Promise you won't throw this at anyone else and I'll let you have it,” he said.

  Evan glared at him, then up at the ball. “I promise,” he sneered after a moment.

  “Good. Now I'll let you have it,” Garry responded. He swung the stick down and smacked Evan in the arm just hard enough to sting. The ball popped out and bounced into the grass.

  Todd's eyes grew big. He moved a few steps away.

  “Hey!” Evan said, rubbing his arm. “What'd you do that for?”

  “Told you I'd let you have it, didn't I?” Garry chuckled. “Now you and Todd are even, bruise for bruise.”

  Evan picked up his ball. “I oughta teach you a lesson, Wallis,” he said men
acingly.

  Garry stuck his nose in Evan's face. “You'd be stupid if you tried. It's two against one.”

  Evan stepped back. His eyes shifted to Garry's right. A slow smile crossed his face. “Actually, I'd say the odds are all even.” He jerked his chin at something behind Garry and started to laugh.

  Garry looked over his shoulder just in time to see his brother disappear over the next hill.

  7

  Garry was still fuming when he arrived at the lacrosse field that afternoon. I can't believe my own brother ditched me, he thought for the hundredth time that day. He also couldn't believe he'd been able to talk Evan out of beating him up.

  “You owe me one, Wallis,” Evan had finally said before sauntering off in the direction of the school. Garry had waited until he was out of sight before picking up his gear and following. He'd been a few minutes late for school but figured that tardiness was better than walking anywhere near Evan when he was angry.

  He planned to avoid the older boy before the game as well, but to his surprise Evan seemed to have forgotten the whole incident by that afternoon.

  “Yo, Wallis,” he said, slinging an arm around Garry's shoulders, “you got your game face on?”

  “Oh, uh, you bet!” Garry replied, slightly taken aback by the boy's friendliness.

  “Great! I'll be right behind you every step of the way!”

  Garry shrugged out from beneath Evan's arm. He turned to reach into his equipment bag for his mouth guard. He caught Todd staring at him. Anger at his brother washed over him again.

  “What are you looking at?” he growled. Todd blinked and dropped his gaze.

  The coach called them together before the scrimmage to go over the starting lineup again. Then he put the clipboard aside. “By the way, don't get too comfortable in those positions, starters. I'll be using this scrimmage to try different players out in different positions. Those of you who are used to playing attack may find yourself in goal—and vice versa. And everybody will see playing time today, and in regular games as well. Now do some stretches and get ready to play some good lax.”