First and Ten (7 page)

He had slept well and was happy that he had a free Saturday. No practice today, just the regular game of pickup hoops at Anderson Park with the guys. Matt loved organized sports, but it was also nice to get a day to just kick back, have a few laughs and enjoy himself with his best friends.

Jake and Phil knocked on his front door about 10:00 am and the three of them headed over to the park, where they met up with Amar Sunir, another good buddy and a teammate on the South Side basketball squad. It was a slightly overcast day with a hint of autumn cool in the air, not nice enough, obviously, to draw anybody else here for an outdoor game. Just as well. Matt and his buddies loved these two-on-two matchups.

They shot for teams, with Matt and Phil pairing up and Jake and Amar playing together. It was a difficult matchup for Matt and Phil against the bigger and more athletic duo. But they held their own, splitting the first two games to eleven by ones.

“Hey, Matt,” Phil asked during a water break before the deciding game. “Who was that guy you were talking to last night after the game—a college recruiter or something?”

Matt laughed. “I wish,” he said.

He guessed it was time he told his friends about his father. Besides his mom and Mark, Andrea was the only person who knew about the big change in his life so far. And Matt knew Andrea hadn't told anybody about it. For some reason—he didn't quite know why—he had asked her not to.

“That's wild,” Phil said after Matt finished, his eyes wide at the news.

“For sure,” added Jake.

Matt instantly felt better, now that he had told his friends. They had pretty much shared everything growing up. Still, Matt had been the only one of the four who hadn't had a dad around. Now, suddenly, he did. It was kind of a strange feeling: as if his identity had been altered.

“It's been kind of bizarre,” Matt admitted to his friends as he took a warm-up shot.

“Bizarre?” Phil said. “You want to know what's bizarre? How about Ricky Jackson's dad? Do you guys know what happened after the game last night?”

Matt hadn't heard a thing.

“I was right there by the locker room door, so I heard it kind of by accident,” Phil continued. “Jackson's old man freaked out on Coach. He was yelling at him, telling Coach his kid should be starting instead of Kyle. He said Ricky was by far the best football player on the entire team and was getting cheated out of playing time because the South Side coaches don't like the family.”

Matt was surprised, but not completely. He knew Jackson's dad had a temper. He had seen it in action during the basketball season after Ricky's older brother, Grant, had been suspended for shoplifting.

“Then he really went off,” Phil said. “He told Coach Reynolds that if Ricky had some decent receivers, he'd be all-district and that it was a joke that he wasn't starting. He said none of you guys can run a route or catch a ball. It was brutal.”

Matt's ears burned. He didn't have to be a mind reader to know that Jackson's dad didn't like it when any of his son's passes were dropped, even in a practice drill. But Matt didn't like the idea of anybody, even a parent, criticizing him like that.

“That's why Coach called Ricky into his office after the game,” Phil said. “I was watching during that series he played, and before every huddle, Ricky was looking toward his dad on the sidelines. Coach thinks Ricky's dad is calling in plays to him.”

Now that was strange. Matt knew Jackson's dad was demanding and a control freak, but this was beyond anything he had imagined. But now it made more sense. No wonder Ricky looked to the sidelines before and after every play.

Matt imagined being in Jackson's situation. It was difficult enough to listen to your coaches and to pay attention to the plays your team had called let alone take directions from your dad on the field too.

The four friends resumed their game of two-on-two. Matt and Phil put up a good effort, but in the third game, the combined height and athleticism of Jake and Amar won out. Jake finished off the game with a spinning drive that he banked in for the winning layup.

“Take that, football boys,” Jake laughed as he and Amar high-fived. Matt had wondered whether the fact he and Phil had decided to go out for football would drive a wedge between them and the other two, but it was obvious it hadn't.

Matt spent the rest of the weekend catching up on homework and raking the leaves that had already begun to fall on their yard. On Sunday, Mark drove down from Eton for a visit. He hadn't been home since before football practice began and it was good to see him.

Before supper, Mark asked Matt if he wanted to shoot some hoops at Anderson. “Sure,” Matt said. “But watch out. I might tackle you. I'm in football season now.”

They walked slowly to the park with basketballs in hand. Matt could tell Mark wanted to discuss something serious with him because there was no small talk or joking as they approached the park.

“He called me the other day again,” Mark said, finally.

“You mean Dad?” Matt said. “Yeah, he came to my football game.”

Matt couldn't help notice Mark's brow furrow.

“I told him that I don't want to see him,” Mark said.

Silence. The brothers didn't speak for several seconds.

“How come?” Matt finally asked.

“I guess it's different for you,” Mark said, slowly. “I mean, you were just a baby, basically, when he left. But I wasn't. It was rough. Mom was a wreck. And he just took off. Before he left, he told me why. He said he had gotten involved with another woman and that Mom couldn't forgive him for that. So he just left. He said it was the best thing for everybody.

“But you know what? It wasn't the best thing for me or you, or even Mom. I wanted a dad. I didn't have one. He just left, and I'll never forgive him for that.”

It was all spilling out quickly, like it had been bottled up inside Mark for years just waiting to erupt. Matt slowly digested what he had just heard. He and Mark had never talked so openly about their mom and dad before. He wondered why not.

They shot baskets in silence for a few minutes. Neither of them tried to start a game of one-on-one. They were both in deep thought, with only the sound of the basketballs bouncing off the pavement and clanging on the rim interrupting the quiet.

“Are you pissed at me?” Matt finally asked. “I mean, for seeing him?”

Mark shook his head. “No, man,” he said. “You do what you think is right. I just know that I can't see him right now. Maybe not ever.”

They walked back toward the house, again mostly in silence. Once they walked through the front door, they didn't mention their father again. Mark and Matt sat down to a roast beef and mashed potato dinner with Mom, just as they had on many a Sunday evening. They talked about football and Mark's job and his new girlfriend Serena and even the weather. The subject of their father didn't come up again that night.

chapter ten

Only a dozen blocks separated the South Side campus from rival Central Middle School, but Coach Reynolds wasn't asking his players to walk to their Friday afternoon game. Coach wanted the boys to “save their legs,” so he had ordered up two long yellow school buses to transport the team and all its gear over to the Wildcats' home field.

Matt thought the players could have easily made the walk to Central. The managers were another story, however. Although the Stingers were already dressed in their full uniforms for the bus ride, Charlie, Phil and the rest of the managers struggled onto the bus with several huge black duffel bags full of footballs, tape, clipboards, video equipment and water bottles.

“Don't stand there boys,” Coach Reynolds yelled at his players. “Help out with the bags. We're all teammates here.”

Embarrassed, Matt jumped up to give Phil a hand. Ricky also got up quickly to help Charlie. Matt was surprised. Ricky seemed nicer than his older brother Grant had been last basketball season. Matt was pretty confident Grant had never helped a team manager in his life.

It was nearly four thirty by the time the Stingers took to the neatly manicured, dark green turf of Central Middle School. The booster club at Central focused heavily on football and everything at the Wildcats' home field was top-notch. The white stands sat at least six hundred people, and the turf was expertly lined and crowned with the giant logo of a snarling Wildcat at midfield.

Central was ranked number one in both the league and the district. The Wildcats had one of the best ninth-grade running backs in the entire region in bruising Lionel Pierce, whom the newspapers were already touting as possessing major college potential. Central's entire offense was built around Pierce, who had simply run through other teams as an eighth-grader. He also dominated the other side of the ball for the Wildcats as a hard-hitting middle linebacker.

The game began well for South Side. They received the opening kickoff and drove all the way for a touchdown on the first possession, with Kyle James throwing a seven-yard pass to Nate Brown for the major. The way Brown had beaten his man and cradled the ball so smoothly in his hands as he crossed into the end zone made Matt wish he was half as good a football player as the slender ninth-grader.

But despite the solid start, the Stingers' offense had stalled following that drive. The only saving grace for South Side was that Central was having problems scoring too. Even though the Wildcats were marching up and down the field with relative ease, they hadn't been able to punch the ball into the end zone by the half. Lionel Pierce had come close, turning in an electrifying twenty-five-yard run early in the second quarter, but the Central star had been drilled by Ronnie Evans and fumbled the football. Reggie Evans had recovered it, all smiles and freckles as he lifted his helmeted head off the turf.

“Good half,” Coach Reynolds said in the locker room at the intermission. “We've got a seven-o lead. I would have preferred to be up by fourteen or twenty-one, but we are up. Keep that in mind. You guys are in control. Outplay them this half and we've got a mighty sweet win here.”

Matt was fired up as he took to the field to begin the second half. The Stingers were kicking off, and he was making only his second appearance of the game with the kick coverage team.

Ricky Jackson laid his right boot into the ball. But it was a wobbly kick, traveling perhaps thirty yards before coming down in front of a surprised Lionel Pierce. The short kick also caught the Stingers' coverage team off guard. As he zeroed in on the bullish Pierce, Matt lunged for the Central back and tried to wrap his arms around his opponent's waist. But Pierce was ready. He straight-armed Matt, deflecting the tackle. As Matt looked up from the ground, he saw Pierce thundering alone toward the Stingers' end zone.

The crowd went crazy. Coach Reynolds fumed on the sidelines, squeezing his clipboard and closing his eyes. This wasn't the kind of start to the second half that the South Side coach had hoped for.

The rest of the half was fairly even—a little surprising considering the Stingers weren't even ranked in the district and were playing on the Wildcats' field. But with five minutes remaining, Central managed to put together a drive. Led by the continued pounding of Lionel Pierce, the Wildcats drove the ball to the Stingers' twenty-yard line before the possession stalled. On its final down, Central sent out its field-goal unit.

Once again it was Pierce doing the damage. The ninth-grader not only ran the ball, he also kicked it for the Wildcats. The roughly thirty-yard kick was just a chip shot for Pierce's powerful right leg. The football split the uprights and Central had a 10–7 lead.

Coach Reynolds called a time-out. He motioned for the entire team to gather around him on the sidelines. Matt strained to hear the coach's words from the back row.

“Okay, people,” the coach said calmly. “We've played a good game here. We've had a real solid effort. Now we just need one more drive from you guys.

“Central is going to be playing prevent here. They're not going to give up the deep one. We've got plenty of time. Kyle, just chip away on this drive, okay?”

Kyle James nodded. Despite the intensity of the moment, Matt could sense a quiet confidence in the gray eyes of the ninth-grade quarterback. “Let's go, boys,” James said, stretching his left hand out in the middle of his teammates. “One, two, three—Stingers!”

The first-string offense ran onto the field. Matt, as usual, watched from the sidelines as Nate Brown lined up at wide receiver. Matt was pretty sure everybody watching the game knew that the ball was going to Brown on this drive. He was easily the Stingers' top pass-catching threat.

Central's defense must have been thinking the same thing. On first down, Brown streaked upfield ten yards before cutting quickly outside. Lionel Pierce, playing middle linebacker, followed Brown through the backfield along his down-and-out route. He obviously felt the ball was going to the Stingers' best receiver too.

Kyle James rolled out to the right, the same side as Brown was cutting. He cocked his left arm and began to pass the ball to his favorite target. But at the last second, he tucked it under his arm and cut directly upfield. The fake seemed to catch the entire Wildcats team by surprise because the middle of the field was wide open. Pierce had committed to covering Brown, and James easily scampered for fifteen yards and a first down.

The Stingers now had the ball at midfield with more than three minutes left on the clock. They broke their huddle quickly, with James dropping back about five yards behind center Steve Donnelly in a shotgun formation. The long snap came back to the South Side quarterback, who again looked downfield at Nate Brown who was steaming down the right sidelines. Once again, however, it was a decoy. James whirled and threw to Steve Chase, the halfback who normally didn't do much in the offense except block. Chase had slipped quietly out of the backfield and run ten yards up the middle. He caught the pass and was tackled by a swarm of Wildcat defenders. The Stingers had another first down.