Gang Tackle (8 page)

“The uniforms aren’t great, but they’re all we’ve got,” Coach Kemp said at the end of practice. “Unless any of you geniuses has a bright idea for coming up with twenty grand for new ones, we’ll be wearing these for the rest of the season.”

Jamal stayed behind with Darnell. He was working on a new pattern and wanted Darnell to throw a few passes to him. Even though their uniforms sucked, they had to make the best of it. The Saints still had to win one of their last two games to make the playoffs.

Darnell hiked the ball to himself and Jamal took off from the line. He ran straight for ten yards, zigged right, then zagged left and sprinted for the sideline. Darnell dropped back and fired the pigskin. It was the first time he had seen that pattern, and he missed his target by a mile. The ball went sailing over Jamal’s head, landing out of bounds and rolling all the way to the parking lot. Jamal jogged over to get the ball. But someone had beaten him to it.

“Looking for this?” Pedro asked, holding the ball in his tattooed arm.

“Hand it over, man.”

“Maybe we make a trade. I give you the ball if you do another job for me.”

“I didn’t even get paid for the last one.” Jamal threw up his hands.

“If we don’t get the goods, you don’t get the cash.”

“I’m done working for you. I’ll never need money that bad.”

“That’s not what I hear,” Pedro said. “Rumor has it you need twenty grand. Looking at your uniform, I can see why. You look lame, bro.”

Darnell ran over to where Jamal stood. He narrowed his eyes. “Everything okay here?”

“Yeah, I was just leaving.” Pedro smiled, showing his gold tooth. “Let me know if you change your mind. I could lend you the money.” Pedro flipped the ball to Jamal and laughed. Then he turned and walked back to the lime-green Chevy hidden behind some bushes near the parking lot.

Jamal clanged his locker shut. He shuffled down the hall to the computer room. When he had a spare period between classes, this was his first stop. Today it was between math and socials. A few of the other players hung out there too. Sometimes he went to do his homework. Sometimes to work on his football game. And sometimes just to surf the Net. Today, all he wanted to do was chill and forget about losing the uniforms.

Darnell was already there. He was sitting at a row of computers and hardly looked up when Jamal walked in. He was too focused on what was in front of him.

Jamal slid into the seat beside him and glanced over. His eyes grew wide. Darnell was busy playing a game on his phone. “What are you doing, man?” Jamal said. He kept his voice low so the teacher at the front of the class wouldn’t hear him.

“Just playing a little
Football Freakout
.” Darnell’s thumbs tapped the screen frantically, like he had a nervous twitch.

“You know you’re not supposed to play games in here. You’re supposed to be studying and stuff.”

“I can’t help it, bro. It’s addictive.”

“So have you come up with any ideas for new unis?” Jamal asked. “We’re desperate.”

“I know,” Darnell said, still tapping. “We look like a bunch of clowns out there. The other teams aren’t going to take us seriously.”

“There must be something we can do to make money,” Jamal said.

Darnell hit the Pause button. “I started to think about it. Came up with the usual ways to make a few extra bucks. Collecting bottles, washing cars, bake sales. I figure if we’re really lucky we can make a thousand dollars.”

“So we’d only be nineteen thousand short.” Jamal laughed, but he knew it wasn’t funny. “Might buy us a few helmets and balls, but not much more. We need a bigger idea.”

Darnell’s eyes darted back to his phone. He started tapping the small screen again.

“So that’s it?” Jamal asked. “No more ideas?”

“Not right now. I’m too busy playing this awesome game I downloaded.”

“How much?”

“Just ninety-nine cents.”

“That’s cheap. How can they make money charging so little?”

“Are you kidding?” Darnell asked. “Thousands of people download it all over North America. They make a ton of coin. All we need is our own game and then we’d have it made.”

Suddenly a light went on in Jamal’s brain. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? A huge grin spread across his face. “Come over to my house tonight. Tell Rico and Carlos too.”

“Are we all going to play
Football Freakout
?” Darnell asked hopefully.

“No, something better.”

“Play it again!” Darnell’s eyes were glued to the computer screen in Jamal’s bedroom.

“It’s awesome!” Carlos said.

“I can’t believe you made this yourself.” Rico grinned at Jamal. “You’re a computer genius, man.”

“I’m still working on the game,” Jamal said, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “You’re looking at a beta version. That means it’s almost finished.”

“It looks finished to me,” Darnell said. “What else do you have to do?

“A bunch more coding,” Jamal explained. “Things to make sure the game runs smoothly every time it’s played. Don’t want it to freeze or anything like that.”

He clicked the Play button again. The screen showed two football teams lined up against each other. The players were simple red and blue cartoon figures. When the ball was hiked, Jamal clicked on the left and right arrow keys to rush the four defensive linemen against the quarterback. When the linemen sacked the quarterback, the game was over. It all took Jamal about ten seconds.

“Let me try,” Rico said. “I bet I can sack the
QB
faster.”

He pushed Jamal to the side. He clicked
Play
and started rushing the linemen. “This isn’t so easy. I keep getting blocked.” Rico finally sacked the quarterback after twenty seconds. “How did you do it faster?”

“Practice, practice, practice,” Jamal said.

Rico laughed. “Yeah, but I hate practice.”

“No kidding,” Carlos joked. “We can see you dogging it on the field when you’re supposed to be doing your drills.”

“What do you call the game?” Darnell asked.

“Sack the Quarterback
,” Jamal said. “Do you like it?”

Darnell stroked his chin, thinking for a minute. “I like the sack part, but I’m not sure about the quarterback part.”

Jamal wrinkled his brow. “Why not?”

“You know how there are lots of football games out there?”

“Yeah, hundreds.” Jamal nodded.

“Ours needs to be different, so people will want to pay the ninety-nine cents and download it.”

“Yeah, we need money and we need it fast,” Rico said. “I don’t know how much longer we can wear these crappy old uniforms.”

“So I have an idea,” Darnell said.

“Bring it on,” Jamal said. “If we can make it better, let’s hear it.”

“What if we changed the name to
Sack the Coach
?”

“So the game would stay the same,” Jamal said, nodding, “but instead of sacking the quarterback, you’d sack the coach.”

“Exactly.” Darnell fist-bumped with Jamal.

“Now that would be different,” Rico said. “Even I’d pay money for that.”

“I could change the quarterback to look like Coach Fort,” Jamal said. “Dress him in a black suit that was too small for his big belly.”

Carlos broke out laughing. “That’d be hilarious, dude.”

“And people would know about Coach Fort getting sacked because the story has been all over the sports news,” Carlos said.

“Yeah, I must have seen the video clip of him flipping out on the sideline a hundred times,” Darnell said. “It’s already got thousands of views on YouTube.”

“So, what do you need from us?” Darnell asked.

“I need you guys to bounce,” Jamal said with a smile. “I’ve got a long night of work ahead of me.”

“Why is it taking so long?” Darnell asked, sitting on the bench beside Jamal. “We need some cash fast.”

It was halftime during Southside’s next game. The Don Mills Lions were mauling the Saints to pieces. The score was already 21–0, and it didn’t look like the Lions were going to pull in their claws anytime soon. They were out for blood.

Jamal knew they should be focused on the game, but he too couldn’t wait for
money to start rolling in from
Sack the Coach
.

“Like I told you, it takes a while. First I had to submit the game to iTunes for them to approve it. That takes time. Then game-playing dudes have to find out it’s available. Then they have to pay and download it. And then we have to wait for iTunes to collect the dough and pay us.”

“I don’t know if we can wait that long,” Darnell said. “Nobody wants to play in these lame uniforms. That’s why we’re losing, bro. They’re so old I bet my dad wore one when he played for Southside.”

“We can still make the playoffs,” Jamal said.

“But only if we win one of our last two games. And this game is toast.”

“Okay, guys, let’s get out there and bring it to them.” Coach stood in front of the bench, wearing his Saints windbreaker and pointing to the field. “We’re only down by three touchdowns.”

Jamal could always count on Coach Kemp to look on the bright side. It was such a
change from Coach Fort, who had always put them down. No matter how bad the score, Coach Kemp always thought the Saints could make a comeback and win. But Jamal wasn’t so sure this time. Not after having their new unis taken away. Not after having to play in rags. Not after getting pummeled in the first half. Might as well be down by ten touchdowns
,
he thought as he ran onto the field.

The Saints took the kickoff, and Rico ran it back to their own thirty-yard line. The offense huddled together and Darnell called the play. A square out to Jamal. The players clapped their hands to break the huddle and lined up face-to-face with the Lions.

“Where did that uniform come from?” the Lion across from Jamal taunted. “The Salvation Army?”

Jamal tried to ignore the insult. But he wasn’t the only one getting a cheap shot.

“Is Southside so poor you can’t afford real uniforms?” a big lineman said to Darnell.

A cornerback needled Rico. “You’ve got so many holes in your jersey, I’ve got nothing to grab. It’s like you’re cheating.”

Jamal had heard enough. When Davey hiked the ball to Darnell, Jamal shot from the line. But he didn’t race downfield for a pass like he was supposed to. He sprinted straight for the Lions cornerback and knocked him down with a straight arm to the chest. The fight was on. The Lion scrambled to his feet and took a swing at Jamal. He ducked and drove his shoulder pad hard into the Lion’s ribs. The two players crashed to the ground, wrestling on the turf.

They weren’t the only two fighting. The rest of the Saints squared off against the Lions. Darnell’s big right hand grasped the lineman by the face guard and threw him to the ground. Rico had the Don Mills cornerback in a headlock. Davey had flattened a defensive end and was sitting on him. It was an all-out war. And it was the only battle the Saints were winning.

The referee kept blowing his whistle, trying to break up the brawl, but the players weren’t listening. Both teams kept wailing on each other until the two coaches ran onto the field.

“Get off him, Jamal!” Coach Kemp shouted. “And get off the field—now! Darnell! Rico! Davey! That means you too. Move it!”

After a few minutes the two coaches had managed to clear the field. Jamal, Darnell and the rest of the Saints stood on the sideline. Their uniforms were even more ripped and stained than before. The players were still angry and gasping for breath.

“Jamal and Darnell, you guys started the fight.” Coach Kemp was just as mad as the players. “You’re both out of the game!”

“But Coach, you should have heard what they were saying about our uniforms,” Jamal said, throwing up his hands.

“I don’t care. This is football. Lots of things get said. You’ve got to ignore it. Be tougher than that and play through it.”

“What does it matter anyway?” Darnell said. “We were losing big-time.”

“If you played half as hard as you fought, you might
not
be losing.” Coach Kemp turned and called for the second-string quarterback and receiver. “Eli and Malik, you’re in.”

Jamal slumped on the bench for the rest of the second half. He knew Coach Kemp was right. He shouldn’t have lost his cool. And maybe he hadn’t given his best effort. But there was no denying their uniforms were an embarrassment. The Saints didn’t look like they belonged in the league. If they ever wanted another victory, they had to change something. And soon.

“I hope our game starts selling real quick, Darnell.”

“Me too, bro. Me too.”

“Would Jamal Wilson please report to the office…”

“Here we go again.” Jamal rolled his eyes as he listened to the voice blaring from the hallway speaker.

“What have you done this time?” Rico joked.

Darnell got in on the ribbing. “Time for your weekly meeting with the principal, bro?”

“At least it wasn’t us.” Carlos laughed.

“…and would Darnell Williams, Rico Bellini and Carlos Lopez join him.”

“That’s more like it,” Jamal said smugly. “I don’t know what we’ve done wrong, but we can all get in trouble together.”

The four teammates cruised down the hall, hung a right at the water fountain and walked into the administration area. Principal Campbell stood there waiting to greet them. At least she didn’t look mad, Jamal thought.

“There’s someone here to talk to you,” she said, opening the door to her office.

“Hey, fellas, I’m Joe Malone, a sports reporter with
TSC
. You might remember me from the story I was doing on Coach Fort and the Saints.”

Jamal, Darnell, Rico and Carlos all nodded. They were speechless. Not because they were talking to a reporter, but because there was a
TV
camera pointed right at them.

“The night we aired the ‘Sack the Coach’ story, we had the highest viewer ratings we’ve ever had,” Mr. Malone said, smiling.
“So when I heard you had created a game with the same name, I had to do another story. This could be big. Maybe even bigger.”

“I think Mr. Malone has a few questions he’d like to ask,” Principal Campbell said.