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“Lester’s good,” said Ned. He was feeling a little boiled at Mr. Leek for suggesting that Lester Ward wasn’t going to be the star of the Hawkeyes.

“Good for Goodhue, maybe, but he’ll be playing with the best of the best now. Some boys can’t take the pressure, coming out of these little-town teams, facing the bigger, more experienced players,” said Mr. Leek.

“Lester’s the best of the best,” said Ned. He banged the broom around a bit. Maybe he wouldn’t listen to the radio in here anymore. Maybe he’d find another place to hear the games.

“I’m sure he appreciates your confidence in him,” said Mr. Leek. “You close to Lester, are you?”

“Not exactly,” said Ned. “I follow along is all. Same as all the boys. He can catch anything.”

Mr. Leek nodded but didn’t say more. This bothered Ned. He found more details to defend Lester. “He’s big, you know. And not just mashed-potato big — he’s got muscle. And he’s fast.”

“Sure, sure thing,” said Mr. Leek.

“Plus, he’s got strategy. Granddaddy Ike says that’s why they picked him. It’s like checkers.”

Mr. Jackson lifted the hot cloth Mr. Leek had put across his clean-shaven face.

“Ike says he knows strategy from checkers, does he? Ask him about the mustache cup I won off him last week. You want strategy, Ned. I’m your man.”

“Granddaddy Ike wants to listen to the games,” Ned said. “Suppose I could bring him down here?”

“Hawks versus Carroll,” said Mr. Leek, “two weeks from now?” He looked at Mr. Jackson to confirm. “Sure, come on in. I’ll save a spot for Ike. Could be a crowd. You kids might have to loiter on the sidewalk. But I’ll keep the volume up.”

Ned and Ralph and the boys took to their part of the field after school. Ned drew their two plays in the dirt and they tried them again, but since both the offense and the defense knew what was coming, they couldn’t fool each other.

“This isn’t working,” said Ned. He flopped on the ground.

“We need to play against a team that’s, well, none of us,” said Ralph. The boys sat down on the grass. They watched Burton’s and Clyde’s teams play for a bit.

“Like who?” said Mel.

“Them,” said Ned.

They all looked.

“Naw,” said Mel. “They’re . . . huge.”

“And all we have is this,” said Franklin, holding up his paper football.

“We do need a real football,” said Ned. “We could play them for that one.”

“Whoa!” said Mel. “Not me! I don’t need to be anybody’s pancake for supper.”

“But you just about made a catch today,” said Ned. “You got around the
O
s and nearly caught the ball. I don’t see anyone over there doing that.”

They all looked up. As a group they stood and stepped closer to the other game.

“Ned’s right,” said Franklin. “They don’t know anything about strategy.”

“But they’re big,” Mel persisted.

“But you are quick,” said Ralph. “And I’m not tall but I’m hard to knock over. And what if we got G.O.?”

Burton had the ball and was trying to get around Clyde, but Clyde knocked him over and grabbed the ball from him. Lester’s ball.

Burton pounded the ground with his fist. He looked up and saw them standing there.

“What are you sissies staring at?” he yelled. “Scram, why don’t you?” He leaped to his feet and lunged at them. They backed off, laughing.

“That is what strategy is for,” said Ned, the others gathering around him. “I can call a play and they won’t know which one we’re going to do.”

“How will we know?” said Paul.

“We’ll huddle up ahead of time and I’ll tell you. Each one has a name.”

“What is that first one called?” said Mel.

“Ike,” said Ned, as it was the first name that popped into his head and it rhymed with
hike
. “We’ll call this one the Lester.”

They got started then and ran each play a couple of times.

Ned threw an overvigorous pass to Ralph and it sailed over all of their players, clear into the other game.

“Uh-oh,” said Ned.

“Hey!” shouted Burton. “Get your toy out of our game!”

Ned ran over to get the ball. It was right in the middle of Burton’s and Clyde’s players. Franklin’s paper-and-twine ball lay on the ground right next to Lester’s ball. His ball. What if he picked it up by mistake?

He should be playing with these boys right now, using this football. He reached down. If his hand just slipped . . . The guys were all horsing around; glad for the break, no one was watching Ned Button.

“Hey!” said Burton. He snatched up the ball. “Paws off. Take your hankie wad and get out of here.”

“We don’t need it anyhow,” said Ned. “We are playing just fine.”

“Sure, sure you are,” said Burton, laughing. “They’re playing just fine, aren’t they, Clyde?”

“You think you’re so good?” said Ned. “How about taking us on?”

“Taking you on?”

“Sure. Your teams together against ours.”

“What do you say, Clyde? The lions against the mice?”

“I don’t know,” said Clyde.

“I bet you’re chicken,” Ned said.

“Chicken. Right. It’s just that I’m afraid you and your fellows will get hurt.”

“Ha,” said Ned, though inside he was not laughing. He glanced over at his scraggly team. Franklin was picking his nose. Paul was walking around on his hands. “Not likely.”

“If we do play, and I’m not saying we will, but if we do, there has to be a prize,” said Burton.

“Lester’s ball,” said Ned.

“But it’s already mine.”

“Then you shouldn’t have to worry.”

“He’s right,” said Clyde. “We’ve got nothing to lose. If they want a bruising, I guess we could give it to them.”

“What do we get if we win?” Burton asked.

“We’ll give you the whole field. We won’t get in your way anymore.”

“When?” said Burton. Then to Clyde he said, “When pigs fly?” They laughed.

“Saturday,” said Ned. “After the Hawkeye game. We’ll be listening. When it’s over, meet at Tractor Field.”

“Sure,” said Burton.

Ned went back to the others.

“We’re on,” he said. “Saturday.”

“That’s soon,” said Franklin.

“So?” said Ralph. “We’re quick.”

Franklin shrugged. “Really think we can beat ’em, Ned?”

“Sure,” said Ned. But he wasn’t sure. He looked after Burton, wishing he could take it all back.

“I don’t know, Ned,” said Mel. “Do you think your granddaddy would give us a little more strategy? I don’t want to get slaughtered.”

“Bring him to practice tomorrow,” said Ralph.

Ned looked over at Burton and the others and imagined his smallish, wobbly great-granddaddy on the field. “I’ll try.”

Gladdy was waiting on the front porch when Ned got home. She ran out to meet him. “They already left. They told me to stay here and get you and go on over when you got here. They said you’re in Mama’s soup for not being here directly. They said —”

“Go on over where?” Ned interrupted.

“I’ve been waiting and waiting,” Gladdy finished. “Tugs’s house. Granddaddy Ike. They’re all over there. There wasn’t even time to bake pie. Or if Aunt Corrine made one, we’re probably too late for it.”

“Why aren’t they next door? At Granddaddy’s own house?”

“Because . . . because . . .” Gladdy stomped her foot and put her hands on her hips. “No one tells me anything!”

Ned was preoccupied with what had transpired on the field. He was puzzling out another play and wanted to draw it out on paper. Tell Granddaddy about the challenge. But nothing stood in the way of a family situation. Maybe Granddaddy had started another fire or fallen asleep in Zip’s again.

“OK. Just let me grab something,” he said. Under the bed in the room he shared with Gladdy, Ned kept his most important possessions. A slingshot, a bag of marbles, and his wadded-up newspaper tied tightly with twine, like Franklin’s. Lots of the boys made their own footballs, and Ned’s was better than most because he’d learned from G.O. that if you put a rock in the middle before you tied up the newspaper, it would carry farther. Plus, it would build your throwing muscles. He rarely brought it out, because he wanted it to last.

The excitement of the afternoon gave him energy in his arms. He’d bring the ball along at least.

“Bet you wish you had Lester’s ball,” Gladdy said as they walked. She was carrying her doll, Miss Lindy. “I don’t really play with Miss Lindy anymore, but I thought I’d bring her in case it is a long situation and we need something to do. You don’t have Lester’s ball, but at least you have something.”

“I don’t need Lester’s football, Gladdy.”

Ned walked faster and Gladdy hurried to catch up. “You’re tiring me out, Ned. Slow down!”

Ned slowed a bit. Wait until Granddaddy heard what happened today. He tossed his football up in the air, and when it came down he caught it. See? There. Why couldn’t he do that when the darn thing got thrown at him?

He tossed it again, a little higher this time. His fingers curled at just the right angle to grab it and pull it into his chest again.

“Bet you wish you’d hung on to Lester’s football at Tractor Field,” said Gladdy. “Miss Lindy wishes so, too.”

Feeling pleased with his catches, Ned tossed it up again, as high as he could this time, shockingly high, but this time it went up at an angle and came down in the street in the path of an oncoming car. Ned ran out to get it, but not before the car passed over it, squashing it flat, the rock poking out like a bone.

Ned sank to his knees next to it in the street.

“Watch where you’re going, why don’t you!” he hollered after the car.

“You’d better get out of the street,” said Gladdy, standing on the very edge of the curb. “Ned! Get out of the street.”

Ned pulled the rock out and tossed it aside. Then he peeled his football off the bricks and walked on with Gladdy. Newspapers weren’t so easy to come by. He’d used the few old
Gazette
s Granddaddy had stacked by his fireplace for the past few balls, and this was the one he’d made out at Uncle Elmer’s farm the day he and G.O. spent out there staying out of the way of Harvey Moore and the Rowdies. This was the best one he’d ever had, thanks to G.O., and it had lasted nearly a couple of months. A real football cost more than eight dollars. Impossible.

Gladdy held up Miss Lindy. “Bet you wish . . .”

“Knock it off, Miss Lindy,” said Ned.

Ned and Gladdy peered through the screen door at Tugs’s house. It was a small house, so it didn’t take too many adults to make things crowded and hot. Granny was sitting in Uncle Robert’s chair, a rag on her forehead covering her eyes, and she was clutching Tugs’s hand.

“Is she dead?” said Gladdy. “I thought they said it was Granddaddy.”

“Is Granddaddy
dead
?” said Ned, a cold lump dropping into his chest. There were enough aunts and uncles for it to be a death in the family. Tugs saw Ned and Gladdy and gently pulled her hand out of Granny’s and set Granny’s hand on the armrest.

At that, Granny yanked the rag off her face and sat up straight. Gladdy jumped.

“Daddy is dead?” Granny shouted. “Nobody tells me anything!”

“Nobody died,” sighed Mother. She turned and saw them then, too. “Where in tarnation have you been?”

“There was a football game after school,” said Ned. “Where’s Granddaddy?”