End Zone (7 page)

It was going well today, at any rate. Everyone on the offense was impressed with Hayden's skills and growing
confidence in the pocket. When they were done, the sweat streaming down their faces in spite of the sub-freezing temperature, Coach Ontkos gathered them around him.

“Guys,” he said, “I'm telling you right now—by game time, you are going to be ready. What we did today was execute our offense in its simplest form. We're gonna keep it simple, because we have to. But that's gonna be enough—trust me—because every one of you is going to execute those few, simple plays to perfection. Understood?”

The boys all nodded, and a lot of them said, “Yeah, Coach!”

Ronde kept silent. He wanted to agree, but inside, he just wasn't sure this was going to work. He had an uneasy feeling he couldn't shake.

It was one thing to execute against your own defense, which wasn't really coming at you hard, trying to knock you flat on your back.

It was a totally different animal to do it in a play-off game, against an opponent as hungry as you. No—
hungrier
. Both teams were shooting for a championship, but the Pulaski Wildcats were also looking for
revenge
.

THE ARTICLE IN THE
ROANOKE REPORTER
CAME
out the morning of the Pulaski game. Tiki and Ronde had known the game would be featured in the sports section. Everybody had been talking about it ever since last week's cliffhanger between the same two teams.

When the paperboy's bicycle bell sounded, Ronde was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. Tiki ran out to grab the paper and get the first look at the article.

By the time Ronde came downstairs, Tiki was at the table, finishing the last paragraph. “Listen to this,” he fumed. “‘One of Pulaski's star players—'”

“Wait, wait!” Ronde interrupted. “Read it from the beginning. I want to hear every word.”

Tiki's jaw tightened. “All right,” he said. “It starts, ‘Today is the first round of Roanoke's junior-high football play-offs. In the first game, the North Side Rockets will face—'”

“No, man, get to the part about our game!” Ronde broke in.

“I thought you wanted to hear every word.”

“About
our
game, not the other one!”

“Okay, okay,” said Tiki. “Let's see . . . ah, here it is. ‘In the other matchup, the Pulaski Wildcats are looking to get even with their nemesis, the Hidden Valley Eagles. Last week, these same two teams battled to a near-standoff. But in the end, the Eagles triumphed, behind their unstoppable star running back, Tiki Barber.'”

Tiki stopped reading. He hadn't wanted to read that part at all—it was embarrassing to be singled out like that. Besides, he wasn't really “unstoppable.” And saying he
was
put even more pressure on him.

Ronde frowned. “Do they say anything about
me
?”

Tiki bit his lip. “Uh, let's see now . . . yeah, here it is: ‘Tiki's identical twin, Ronde Barber, had a key interception in the game. . . .'”

Ronde smiled. “That's better. Keep reading.”

“‘For the past ten years, Pulaski has been a league powerhouse. Over the past two years, though—in fact, since the Barber twins joined the Eagles—Pulaski has been bested by their archrivals. Already this season, Hidden Valley has beaten the Wildcats twice.'

“‘But this time, Pulaski vows the outcome will be different. The whole team seems to be bent on evening the score. “We're going to win this game,” said quarterback Jeremy Halper. “I guarantee it.'

“‘Linebacker Jeff Tambor was more specific. “We're going to stonewall the Barber brothers,” he promised. “If we stop them, the Eagles have no chance.”'”

Tiki looked up. Steam seemed to be coming from Ronde's ears, and his eyes were burning with fury. “I'd like to stuff that paper right into their big fat mouths,” he muttered.

“Never mind that, Ronde. Take it out on the field, man.” Tiki thought for a moment, then added, “You know what I'm going to do?” He folded the paper up and stuck it into his book bag. “I'm going to pin this article up on the bulletin board in the locker room. Just in case any of the guys haven't seen it.”

Ronde smiled and nodded. “Good idea. If that doesn't get the team fired up, nothing will.”

•  •  •

“
WHAAAT
?” Paco stood staring at the bulletin board, his beefy hands on his even beefier hips. “I can't believe this! Hey, you guys—check this out!”

The team gathered around the article. Tiki and Ronde stood watching them, letting it all sink in, smiling with satisfaction.

“I'm gonna flatten Jeremy Halper,” Rob Fiorilla said.

“You're not getting by me today, Tambor,” Paco said, sticking his finger at the newspaper. “You're gonna eat your words, you punk.”

“Hey!” Tiki said, stepping forward. “Listen up, you guys.”

“Listen to what?” Luke Frazier asked. “We already got the message, Tiki.”

“That's right,” Tiki agreed. “Hey, I'm the one who pinned it up there. I wanted to make sure you all saw it.”

The team members murmured angrily. “We saw it, all right,” one of them said.

“They're going to be gunning for me,” Tiki said, “and they're going to try to take Ronde out of the game too. So it's all on you guys to step up your game. We're counting on the rest of you to rise up and show those loudmouth Wildcats that we're a team, not just a pair of twins surrounded by a bunch of empty uniforms! Are you up for it?”

“YEAAH!!” came the deafening response.

Tiki turned to Coach Wheeler, who had just entered the locker room. “All yours, Coach,” he said, giving up the floor to the astonished Wheeler.

As he listened to the coach give his last-minute instructions, Tiki felt a dark shadow come over him. The rest of the team was ready—no doubt about that. Any fear they had felt before was now overwhelmed by their anger at the Wildcats.

But in spite of Tiki's rousing speech, he himself wasn't really convinced. If the Wildcats succeeded in taking him and Ronde out of the game, how would the Eagles—already missing their regular quarterback—find a way to win?

Who would carry the brunt of the offense? Luke Frazier? Luke was a powerful runner, but he lacked Tiki's speed
and moves. Hayden Brook had looked great in practice, but Pulaski's defense would hurl everything in the book at him, once they realized he was actually going to throw the ball this time around.

If the Eagles couldn't score very much, that meant their defense would have to pitch a shutout, or pretty nearly. Would they be able to stop the Pulaski juggernaut, if the Wildcats avoided Ronde like the plague?

The Eagles ran onto the field screaming at the top of their lungs, waving their arms to whip up the crowd noise, which was already deafening.

The Wildcats were already on their sideline, watching calmly with their hands on their hips. They didn't look scared; not the least bit. They looked determined, ready . . . and dangerous.

•  •  •

Pulaski won the coin toss, and elected to receive. On the kickoff, they devoted two players to keeping Ronde away from the returner. Tiki squirmed this way and that, as if he were Ronde trying to get free.

But in focusing on Ronde, the Wildcats had to leave someone else unguarded. That someone turned out to be Rio Ikeda. Rio streaked down the field and threw himself headlong at the returner's legs, toppling him head over heels before he'd even gotten started!

“Atta baby, Rio!!” Tiki yelled, jumping up and down and punching the air with his fist. The game had only just
started, and it already felt like the fourth quarter.

On first down, Pulaski ran the ball, but Rob Fiorilla was through the line in a heartbeat, stuffing the hole and forcing a loss of two on the play.

On the next play, Jeremy Halper threw a short completion to the sideline farthest from Ronde.

It was third and four, and Pulaski elected to pass again. This time, safety Alister Edwards wrestled the ball out of the hands of the receiver, nearly intercepting it, and forcing the Wildcats to punt.

Ronde was back there waiting for it, but the kicker aimed it across the field and out of bounds. The kick was short, but Pulaski obviously didn't care—so long as Ronde never touched the ball, they were happy.

Now the Eagle offense got to work. They gave the ball to Tiki first, just to see how far they could get.

The answer turned out to be, not far at all. Tiki was met by a wall of defenders, and pushed back for no gain.

The Eagles had known this was coming. Now it was time to launch their surprise passing attack. “Let's go to the game plan,” Tiki said in the huddle.

Coach had already sent in the play—a pass to one of the Amadou twins on a crossing pattern. Tiki and Jonah would stay back to protect Hayden from the Pulaski rush. The Amadous would be outnumbered by defensive backs and linebackers. It would be up to the twins to get free, and Hayden to get the ball to one of them in mid-stride.

When Hayden faked the handoff to Tiki, the defenders took the bait. They swarmed Tiki and brought him down as if he had the ball.

From underneath the pile, Tiki could hear the roar of the crowd. When he was finally able to get up, he saw that Frank Amadou had caught the pass and taken it all the way to the Pulaski twenty-five!

“Right on the money!” Frank said as he came back to the huddle. “What a throw!”

“Nice take-out,” Hayden told Felix, who had come so close in crossing Frank that the two defenders had knocked each other down, leaving both Amadou twins free.

The next play was another pass—this time, a quick one to Jonah James for a gain of ten yards.

Pulaski seemed totally off-balance. They'd assumed the Eagles would go to Tiki on most plays. Instead, they were facing an unexpectedly effective passing attack.

Hayden fired a quick square-out to Felix, and the Eagles had a first and goal at the nine.

Another fake handoff to Tiki, and this time, it was Luke Frazier who caught the quick pass. Hayden was getting rid of the ball so fast, the Pulaski pass rush had no time to get to him.

Just to keep Pulaski guessing, Coach Wheeler now called for a handoff to Tiki. It was stuffed for a loss (no one could say the Wildcats weren't ready for Tiki).

The Eagles had spent the week drilling a few very simple passing plays—plays that Hayden could master quickly, and that would cut down on the possibility of sacks and interceptions.

Now, on third and goal from the seven, Coach Wheeler called for a quarterback draw, anticipating a blitz. Hayden took the snap, faked the pass, then darted straight ahead, right past the onrushing Pulaski blitzers! He dashed into the end zone, for the first touchdown of the game!

Tiki breathed a sigh of relief, then headed over to the sideline while Adam Costa kicked the extra point.

It was going to be a long game—but at least they'd scored first. That would shake Pulaski's confidence, at least. It would take the Wildcats some time to adjust to the Eagles' simple but effective passing attack. And as long as the Eagles kept the lead, time was on their side.

The question was, could they continue to step up their game for a full sixty minutes?

THE WILDCAT OFFENSE WENT STRAIGHT TO THE
run. With their huge offensive line, they were able to clear huge holes for their star running back, Curtis Drummond. Ronde could only watch helplessly from downfield. He had his man covered like wallpaper, for all the good that did.

“They're double-teaming me!” Rob Fiorilla moaned in the defensive huddle. “You guys have got to go right to the ball!”

“We're trying, yo,” said Danny Halpin, one of the defensive tackles. “They're just way too big.”

“And strong,” Henry Weltman added. “They must have been lifting weights all week.”

Whatever the reason—weights, or just the burning desire for revenge—Pulaski's offense kept on moving the chains, sticking to the ground. It was a total reversal from last week, when the
Eagles
were the ones who avoided the passing game.

Ronde could not believe how fast the Wildcats made it into the red zone. Suddenly, the defensive line that had
dominated the league all season looked like a bunch of confused and demoralized rookies.

Where was all the anger and determination they'd had in the locker room? Ronde shook his head as Pulaski reeled off another nine-yard gain. Each play was different, and the blocking schemes changed each time too. The Wildcats were certainly well-coached, that was for sure.

The problem wasn't that the Wildcats had grown stronger over the past week—it was that they'd gotten
smarter
. Their coach had put in enough new plays to keep the Eagles' defense off-balance and back on their heels.

Jeremy Halper faked a handoff and ran the ball into the end zone, untouched. He let out a triumphant yell, holding the ball over his head before spiking it viciously. Then he strode over to Rob Fiorilla and yelled something right in his face.

Rob's fists clenched, and Ronde could tell he was about to do something he'd regret. “Fio!” he yelled. “Chill!”

Rob glanced at him, then turned back to Halper. But his fists relaxed. The last thing the Eagles needed was for him to get nailed with a penalty for fighting, or even thrown out of the game!

After the extra point tied it, the Wildcats kicked off—a squib kick that one of the other Eagles picked up. He was buried at the Eagle forty before he could take a step.

The Eagles had good field position, but once again,
Pulaski had managed to steer the ball away from Ronde. He could feel his frustration mounting.