Go Long! (6 page)

There were still five minutes left to play, Tiki told himself. Time enough to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. And so he stopped thinking about it and watched the defense work as he waited to get back out on the field.

But as hard as they tried, the Eagles never got the ball again.

When the gun sounded to end the game, the horrible truth hit Tiki full force—the Eagles, at least for this week, were just another losing team. And at 28–7, it wasn't even close.

Looking up in the stands, he saw Mr. Wheeler packing up what looked like a big pair of binoculars. Tiki wondered what it was. He wondered what Mr. Wheeler thought of his team's first, disastrous game.

Oh, well,
he thought with a shiver.
We'll all find out soon enough
.

RONDE AND TIKI WERE SUITING UP IN THE LOCKER
room, along with the rest of the team, when Coach Wheeler came in. He was wheeling a TV on a tall stand, with another machine under it.

“At ease, gentlemen,” Wheeler said as the boys dodged the TV cart. “Before we go ahead with the same old practice routine, I'd like to try some new things with you. I like to think of it as a ‘new way' of preparing for next week's game.”

He plugged in the TV and the other machine. “Gather round, team—we're going to watch some videotape.”

“Videotape?” Tiki repeated. “I've seen that on the NFL games. Replay, right? It's cool—do you have slow motion?”

“I do indeed. And I taped our game the other day,” Coach Wheeler said, turning on the TV and video player. “Let's take a look and see how we did.”

“We
lost
, that's how we did,” Cody said, and most of the kids laughed, even though it wasn't really funny.

Ronde could see that Cody was really beginning to get on Coach Wheeler's nerves. But the coach didn't call Cody out. He kept his cool, at least for the moment.

“I'm aware of that,” Wheeler said. “But let's look at
how
and
why
we lost—so we don't do it again. At least this way, we won't make the same mistakes we made the first time.”

Wheeler had put together a tape of all the best—and worst—moments of the game. He would show a key play, then ask, “What went wrong there?” Or he'd say, “Now that's good football.”

Then he would explain, running the play over once or twice more, until everyone understood what he was getting at.

In the beginning, the boys were really into it. Even Cody was quick to volunteer answers whenever Coach Wheeler asked what went wrong with one of his offensive players. “Barber let a flea tackle him,” he would say. Or, “Paco whiffed on the snap.” Or, “Soule had a brain cramp.”

Most of the boys laughed when Cody made one of his comments. But Ronde didn't think any of it was funny. He knew they were only laughing because they were relieved it wasn't
them
Cody was making fun of.

Well, sooner or later, Ronde was sure, they'd have their turn. Cody was an equal-opportunity joker.

“Hey, QB,” Coach Wheeler finally said, stopping the tape after one of Cody's comments. “Why don't you give it a rest?”

“Just telling it like it is,” Cody said with a shrug.

“Not in here, you're not,” Coach Wheeler said. “This is my team, and I'm in charge. Got it?”

“Okay, Coach,” Cody said, backing down. “Whatever.”

Wheeler shot him an angry glance, then said, “How 'bout you give us a breakdown of what
you
did wrong, instead of criticizing everyone else?”

“I said I was sorry, okay?”

“Look. We've got a lot of tape to go through, and we're wasting time here.”

“But are we gonna get out there and practice today?” Cody asked.

“Yeah!” some of the others agreed, and pretty soon, it was a whole chorus, clamoring to go outside and play some football.

“You'll get out there on the field when, and if, we get done with
this
,” Coach Wheeler insisted. “Now calm down, all of you. None of you played a perfect game yesterday. You can still learn a thing or two from watching tape of yourselves, believe me.”

They watched for another hour. Ronde got to see how his man had beaten him downfield by dodging Ronde's bump at the line. “Hey—I could avoid that by making
the hit quicker, and with more force,” he said to himself, making a mental note.

Like all the other kids, he wanted to get out on the field and move around. But he could see why Mr. Wheeler wanted them to sit here and do some studying.

When they were finally done, Coach Wheeler looked at his watch and said, “There's not enough time to go out on the field today. We'll get out there tomorrow and work on everything then.”

A major groan went up from the benches.

“FOR NOW,” Wheeler said, loud enough to make them quiet down, “I would like us to all close our eyes and breathe deeply. . . .”

“
Now
what?” Cody muttered under his breath.

Coach Wheeler didn't hear him—or if he did, he ignored Cody. “Concentrate on your breath . . . ,” he told the players. “You're feeling all the tension rise up through the top of your head and the bottoms of your feet . . . now I want you to visualize next week's game against Patrick Henry. See yourself making all the right moves . . . scoring that touchdown, catching that pass, making that tackle . . .”

“Watching that videotape . . . ,” Cody whispered, making the boys nearest to him burst out laughing.

“Shhh . . . ,” said Coach Wheeler. “Concentrate on victory . . . see it in your mind's eye . . . see us all held
together as a team with a big, giant rubber band. . . .”

Ronde heard sniggering from a few of the boys. He opened one eye and saw that Tiki was looking right back at him.

Ronde opened his other eye and glanced up at the ceiling, as if to say, “This is so weird.”

Tiki winced. Ronde knew his brother liked Mr. Wheeler as a teacher and wanted him to succeed as the Eagles' coach. Hey, they
all
wanted that.

But Wheeler's “new way” didn't seem like the road to success to Ronde—and clearly, not to most of the other boys, either.

If he was trying to rally them behind him so they'd play their best, the Eagles' new head coach was getting off to a really miserable start.

Kind of like the team.

•   •   •

Out in front of the school, Tiki and Ronde saw their mom standing in front of the car. Seeing them, she waved and tried to smile.

Ronde knew she was trying to pick up their spirits and make them feel better. But nothing could erase the sting of the terrible opening-game loss—nothing but a resounding victory in tomorrow's game.

“Somebody's got to talk to Cody, man,” Tiki said as they walked to the car. Tiki nodded his head in the direction
of the quarterback, who was standing in the parking lot waiting for his own ride to show.

“Yeah,” Ronde agreed. “You're right. Go on, go talk to him.”

“Me?”

Ronde blinked. “You're not saying you think
I
should do it?”

“Yeah, man,” Tiki said. “I'll back you up.”

“How 'bout
I
back
you
up?” Ronde countered.

“Aw, Ronde, I can't talk to that kid.”

“So? Me neither. He's way too . . .”

“I know,” Tiki agreed. “So . . . you gonna talk to him?”

Ronde did a double-take. “Tiki, man—it was your idea!”

A car drove up, and Cody got into it. “Now, you see?” Tiki said, shaking his head. “It's too late! Why didn't you go talk to him when you had the chance?”

Ronde sighed. Sometimes it was impossible to talk to Tiki. And if
that
was impossible,
forget
about talking to a kid like Cody!

•   •   •

Two long days had gone by. After practice Wednesday, the boys returned home, and Mrs. Barber already had dinner cooking. Ronde and Tiki were both hungry, and they settled right down to eat—their favorite, Mom's world-famous mac and cheese.

They were still annoyed at each other. All week long neither one of them had said anything to Cody. So instead of talking, they took turns leafing through the
Roanoke Reporter
, looking for the article about last week's game.

Because the paper only came out on Wednesdays, and the Eagles played their games on Thursday, it was always a long wait till they got to read about it.

Last year, it hadn't been that interesting reading about the team, because as bench players, they were rarely mentioned. But this year they were starters. And so this week, they both knew their names would be all over the article.

“Listen to this,” Tiki said. “‘The first game of the new era for the Hidden Valley Eagles was a huge, mistake-filled disappointment. The Eagles, a preseason pick to repeat as District Champs, lost to a William Byrd Badgers squad they should have handled easily. Worse, the Eagles had every chance to win, and didn't take advantage.'”

“What does it say about you and me?” Ronde asked.

“Now, Ronde,” their mom said, “let your brother read.” She had been about to dish out another helping for both her sons. But now she just stood there, as curious as they were.

“‘New Eagles Head Coach Sam Wheeler says the team's first game may not be a good example of how they will play in the future. He says he is putting in a new system that should bring out the best in his team.'

“‘“I'm a believer in the mental game,” Wheeler said, adding that the Eagles need to be the best-prepared team on the field, mentally as well as physically.'”

“Mom, did Tiki tell you we didn't even get onto the field at practice today?” Ronde said.

“What?”

“Coach just played videotape of our game and made us imagine winning,” he told her.

“He probably thinks you boys aren't focused enough,” Mrs. Barber said.

“That's right, Mom,” Tiki agreed. “Coach Wheeler's really smart. I'll bet if we all just do what he says, we'll start winning soon.”

“There you go,” said Mrs. Barber. “That's the spirit. You need to get with the program, Ronde.”

Ronde wished he could believe in it, but he had his doubts. Most of the other kids thought Wheeler was weird.

Sure, Cody had gone way overboard about him, but Wheeler wasn't exactly perfect. Ronde couldn't see how the new coach was ever going to get the Eagles to play their best for him—tape or no tape, mental game or no mental game—especially if he couldn't stop a kid like Cody from stirring up trouble.

“‘The team did show flashes of greatness,'” Tiki went on reading. “‘The Barber brothers, Tiki and Ronde—' Hey, that's us!”

“What's it say? What's it say?” Ronde asked, suddenly excited.

“‘Although his fumble of the opening kickoff cost his team seven points, Ronde Barber ran an interception back the length of the field for a key touchdown, as well as batting away a sure touchdown pass from Kyle Martin of the Badgers. And his identical twin, Tiki Barber, had two long touchdown runs of his own.'”

Tiki looked up and grinned, and Mrs. Barber rubbed his head lovingly, planting a kiss on it, and then one on Ronde's head, too. “My boys,” she cooed. “I'm so proud of you both.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Tiki said, grinning.

“Keep reading,” Ronde told him. “I want to hear the rest.”

“‘Quarterback Cody Hansen, however, had his challenges in the game. His play, as well as the whole team's, will have to improve if the Eagles are to live up to their promise this year.'”

“Man,” Ronde said darkly, “Cody's not going to like hearing that.”

“It's the truth,” Tiki said. “Let's just hope he takes out his anger on the Patriots tomorrow.”

“You boys just focus on doing your best,” said Mrs. Barber, doling each of them out another scoop of mac and cheese. “What do I always tell you, before every single game?”

Tiki and Ronde looked up at her and grinned. “Play proud!” they said, and slapped each other five.

•   •   •

“It's all Wheeler's fault,” Cody said, crumpling up the paper and tossing it into the garbage bins filled with lunch leftovers. “Maybe if he was there on the sidelines with us, instead of hiding in the stands, you guys would've played better and not made me look so bad.”

“Hey, man,” Fred Soule said. “You're the QB. The buck stops with you.”

“Wrong,” Cody argued. “The buck stops with the head coach. Ask anyone.” He looked around, and most of the kids surrounding him at the lunch table nodded their heads in agreement.

Ronde wasn't about to say anything. Like Fred, he didn't think Cody had played all that great. But he knew if he said anything, Cody would make him look stupid, and all the other kids would probably pile on, just like they did on the football field. Except for Fred and a few others, they were just a bunch of followers and would do whatever the leader did.

He looked over at Tiki, and Ronde could tell that his twin was annoyed too. But for now, Cody was the unspoken leader of the team, and everyone seemed to be falling in line behind him—or at least keeping their mouths shut. Like Ronde, Tiki was too afraid to speak out.

Except that Cody must have noticed the expression
on Tiki's face. “What, Barber?” he challenged. “You got something to say?”

Ronde could read his twin's thoughts. Should he say something? Should he back down? Ronde thought Tiki would be too scared to come back at Cody.

But he was wrong. “I think you messed up as much as anybody,” Tiki said simply.

Cody's face grew red. “Maybe if I had a back who could block for me . . . or hold on to the football when he's tackled . . . or get with the program!”