Goal-Line Stand (9 page)
Authors: Todd Hafer
Cabrera must have realized he was running out of field, because he braked and angled his body back to the inside of the field.
Pork Chop was waiting at that particular location. The groan that escaped from Cabrera as Pork Chop
slammed him on the one-yard line would make Cody smile every time he thought about it for the next three months.
As he charged toward his best friend to congratulate him, Cody thought,
I wish I were big enough to lift you up off the ground in celebration, Chop. I guess that means I wish I were a forklift.
Cody took a twenty-minute shower after the victory. He would have extended it to twenty-five minutes if the hot water hadn’t run out. Coach Smith had sniffled and stammered through most of his post-game speech, but he was able to rein in his emotions long enough to say, “I’ve never been prouder of a group of young men in my whole life.”
When Mr. Evans came in to collect his twins, he detoured to Cody’s locker and said, “Young man, I owe you an apology. My boys tell me you’re religious. I don’t exactly know what religion you represent, but you represent it well.”
“Thank you, sir,” Cody said. “But I don’t really try to represent any religion—just Jesus.”
Outside the locker room, Doug Porter and Robyn both called him “a monster.” He wasn’t sure whose compliment meant more. It was a close call.
Moments later, with their respective fathers’ car engines idling, Pork Chop and Cody stood facing each other in the parking lot.
“So,” Cody said, grinning, “way to pancake Cabrera and save the day.”
Pork Chop wagged his head from side to side. “You made the play and you know it. You did all the hard work. I just mopped up.”
“Hey, Chop,” Cody said, before turning to leave, “what were you mumbling about before that last play?”
“I wasn’t mumbling, dude, I was praying.”
“You? Praying?”
“Yeah. Hey, I may be a wild buck, but I’m no atheist. My people, you know, we’re deeply spiritual.”
“So what were you praying—that you’d win the game and be a hero?”
“No—that you would.”
Cody swallowed hard. “You prayed—for me?”
“Yeah, and guess what? Somebody answered.”
“Hey, Chop. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Just don’t try to hug me. I’ve heard about you church people and your hugging.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna try that. I’ll just say thanks for being the best friend in the known universe.”
Pork Chop smiled. “I’ll just say that, too.”
C
ody awoke on Sunday morning to the crisp pops and sizzles of bacon frying. He checked his watch, which read 7:28.
Puzzled, he stutter-stepped his way down the stairs to the kitchen. His dad was humming an aimless tune and carefully grabbing long slices of bacon with a pair of tongs that seemed to Cody much too large and unwieldy for the task at hand.
“Dad,” he said softly, “you do know it’s Sunday, right?”
His father set down the tongs and smiled. “Of course. Will you get the orange juice out of the fridge, please?"
“Uh, okay.”
“Don’t look so confused, Cody. You can’t have breakfast without orange juice.”
“I know, Dad, but it’s like, seven-thirty on a Sunday morning, and we haven’t had breakfast this early on a Sunday since—well, you know.”
Luke Martin moved the plate full of bacon from the counter near the stove to the middle of the kitchen table, next to a platter stacked high with cinnamonraisin toast. “I know,” he said quietly. “But we have to eat breakfast this early if we’re going to make early service.”
Cody shook his head, as he did when trying to get water out of his ears after a leap off the high dive. “Early service?”
“Yes, Cody. We have to go to early service if we’re going to get home in time to watch the Broncos together. You know they’re playing at Miami today, and that means pregame broadcast at ten-thirty, kickoff at eleven. Deke Porter is coming over to watch with us, and he’ll eat all the snacks I bought if we’re not here to monitor him.”
Cody sat down at the kitchen table and stared dumbfounded at the empty plate in front of him. “I don’t get it. Why?”
“I’ll tell you why. Because your youth pastor told me a lot of things during the game—between plays, during
time-outs and whatnot. Things I didn’t know about my own son. Things that made me proud. Things that I know make your mom proud. And he told me about this, uh, incompleteness that’s troubling you. Maybe I can help you with that. Because I feel it too.”
Cody plucked a piece of bacon for himself. “So, you mean you’re going to start going to church again. Maybe stop working all of the time?”
Cody wasn’t sure how to read the sigh that followed.
“I don’t know, Code. I have been confused by God, even mad at God these last couple of months. So I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. All I can say is that I’m going to try. Starting today.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re welcome. Now get to eating. We have a busy morning in front of us. Hymns to sing. Maybe they’ll do ‘Amazing Grace.’ A sermon to hear. And a game to watch. I hope the Broncos cream those Miami—uh, um—”
“Dolphins, Dad. Miami Dolphins.”
The congregation did sing “Amazing Grace” as part of early-service worship. Cody’s dad bowed his head and closed his eyes, rocking slowly back and forth in rhythm with the melody that brought his wife comfort, even as cancer invaded her body.
Pastor Taylor spoke about the journey of life and how so many people “are obsessed with where they are going, how soon they are going to get there, and how many riches they can accumulate along the way.”
“I feel sorry for those people,” the pastor said. “They are missing something so very key. You see, my friends, life isn’t merely about where you are going and all of that. It’s more about who you have beside you—and who you have living in your heart—on the way.”
Cody’s dad put his arm around him and drew him close when he heard those words. Then they stood together for prayer. As soon as Pastor Taylor said, “Amen,” Cody dashed to the foyer. There he selected the largest of the premium early-service donuts—a jelly-filled monstrosity smothered with thick chocolate icing and crowned with red, white, and blue sprinkles.
“Man,” he whispered as he carefully placed the pastry on a napkin and headed for the exit, “this baby’s almost as big as a football. Chop’s gonna love it!”
Full-Court Press
(Book 2)
Second Wind
(Book 3)
Stealing Home
(Book 4)
Three-Point Play
(Book 5)
Cody’s Varsity Rush
(Book 6)
ZONDERKIDZ
Goal Line Stand
Copyright © 2004 by Todd Hafer
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.
ePub Edition June 2010 ISBN: 978-0-310-87247-4
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Zonderkidz, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hafer, Todd.
Goal line stand / by Todd Hafer.
p. cm.–(The spirit of the game, sports fiction series)
Summary: After his mother dies, thirteen-year-old Cody has trouble concentrating on football and faces some challenges in his relationships with teammates.
ISBN-13: 978-0-310-70669-4 (softcove)r)
[1. Christian life—Fiction. 2. Football—Fiction. 3. Friendship—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.H11975Go 2004
[Fic]—dc22
2004012893
All Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible: New International Version®. (NIV®). Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
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