Gang Tackle by Eric Howling Page B

legs. And a shiny blue helmet with a big gold S on the side. The gear was awesome. All fresh out of the box, still with that new-uniform smell. A big shipment had just arrived at the school that morning. The team had rushed down to the locker room early and dived in.
    He glanced in the mirror. The ragtag player he used to see was gone. Now the player with the coolest uniform in the league stared back. And there was no goofy fort to be seen. He gave a silent nod and turned his attention to the coach.
    “This is a big game,” Coach Kemp said. “The biggest of the season. Win and we go to the playoffs. Lose and we fall short of our goal. You’ve had a tough year. A coach who didn’t believe in you, uniforms that were in tatters, spirits that were broken.” He scanned the room again. There wasn’t a sound. An army of blue and gold stood at attention. All eyes were front and center. “But it’s what you do in the end that counts. How you rise above the tough times that will be remembered. We can win this game against Etobicoke. Make no mistake—the Knights will give us everything we can handle. But if we work together, if we play as a team, we can bring victory to the Saints.”
    The team chanted, “Saints! Saints! Saints!”
    “What’s second, Coach?” Rico asked.
    Coach Kemp frowned. “Davey Sanchez won’t be playing center today.”
    “Why not?” Rico shot a glance at Davey, who was also puzzled by the announcement. “He looks fine to me, Coach.”
    “That’s because Billy Chang will be,” Coach said with a big grin. “I asked him if he was ready to play, and he said yes.”
    Right at that second Billy walked into the locker room. He was already dressed in a new Saints uniform.
    “Where have you been hiding?” Jamal asked.
    “I’ve been waiting in Coach’s office. We wanted to surprise you guys. Get everyone pumped.”
    “Well, it worked,” Darnell said, bumping fists. “I can’t wait for you to snap the ball to me like old times.”
    “And don’t worry about Davey,” Coach said. “He’ll be playing guard just like he used to.”
    The Saints charged onto the field. Flashes of blue and gold streaked across the green grass.
    Southside was on fire right from the opening kick. On the very first play, Darnell took the snap from Billy and dropped back to pass. Jamal sprinted from his own thirty-yard line and darted across the middle of the field. Darnell flicked his wrist and hit him on the quick slant. Jamal hauled the ball in, and his legs did the rest. He broke wide around the cornerback, and then it was a foot race to the end zone. But it was no contest. Once Jamal put his powerful engine into high gear, there was no stopping him. The Knights safety was the last man to beat. Jamal cut inside of him at the last second and ran across the goal line.
    The referee raised both arms high over his head and blew his whistle. The game was less than a minute old and the Saints were already ahead by a touchdown.
    Jamal dashed to the sideline, getting high fives from the defensive squad as they hustled onto the field.
    “This is going to be easy, dude,” Carlos said as he passed.
    Jamal had played too many games to think the Knights were going to fold. He knew the team in the silver uniforms would come back fighting. This game was far from over.
    He was right. For the rest of the first half, the Knights offense pounded the Saints. Their quarterback was in total control. Twice Jamal watched him march his silver machine down the field and score. He mixed up his plays like a magician, so the Saints never knew what was coming next. A running sweep to the left on one play. First down. A square-out pass the next. First down. They seemed unstoppable. No matter what the call, the Knights offense sliced through the Saints defense like a knife through butter.
    The referee blew his whistle to end the first half. Jamal looked over at the scoreboard and shook his head. Knights 14–Saints 7.

Chapter Twenty-Two
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