Long Arm Quarterback (3 page)

“Good reaction!” Tully called. “You waited to see the play develop and then moved!”

After more plays, the squads switched roles, with
Cap's group going to offense. In the huddle, Cap called for a deep pass to Sam.

Three defenders rushed Cap. Ben held off Steve, and Hoot screened out Vince. Cap rolled away from Bobby Jo and fired toward
Sam—but Candy, going step for step with the receiver, cut in front and picked it off.

Cap pounded his hands together in frustration as Candy trotted back, a big grin on her face. “Good pick, Candy,” called Tully.

Sam said, “That girl can
run.”

Candy handed Cap the ball. “I knew you'd go deep. I was ready for it.”

Tully nodded. “I had the same hunch. Cap, don't get predictable. If you rely on those bombs, they'll blow up in your face
once the other team figures you out.”

Cap had to admit that Tully had a point. There was more to learn in this game than he had expected.

D
uring the next week, the team began to play together better, and everyone, even Sam, agreed that having extra people to work
with—girls included—was helpful. Sable always drove Jimmy to practice and began staying to watch.

It was clear to Cap that Tully didn't welcome the other man's presence, although he wasn't in any position to do much about
it. It was a free country, and Tully didn't want to embarrass the team members, especially Jimmy.

From the first day, everyone knew that Ben Worthy would start at center. Defensively, he was an intimidating pass rusher.
By week's end, it was clear who most of the other starters would be.

Sam Dracus's speed made him a deep threat, and he would start at one end. When he raced out on a
post pattern, the opposition would have to send someone deep, so even on a short pass or running play, the defense would be
spread thinner. On defense, Sam would cover the other team's fastest receiver.

Mick Avery had nailed down the starting job at the other end. Mick always seemed to be able to get clear. He could also block
well.

Hoot Coleman was a threat as a runner and pass receiver and would be a starting back. Fritz Marconi was a solid runner in
short yardage situations and a strong lead blocker.

Vince Avery would be coming in as a running back and Steve Flynn could give Ben a breather at center or come in as an end.

But if Tully had decided who would start at quarterback, he wasn't saying. He kept alternating between Cap and Jimmy. Both
boys had their strengths: Cap had a stronger arm and was a better defender than Jimmy and a good blocker. But he tended to
go deep too often, and his short passes were often thrown so hard that they were tough for his receivers to hang on to.

Jimmy's short passing game was his strength. He
was a smart play caller and more ready to use all the weapons at his disposal. But he couldn't throw long passes well, and
wasn't as good as Cap on defense.

When Cap compared himself with Jimmy, he had to admit that Tully had a tough choice to make. It wasn't made easier by Sable's
being around. If Tully went with Cap, Sable would make noise about it. And Cap knew that if Tully picked Jimmy as the starter,
Tully would be unhappy because Cap would be unhappy.

The next day, when no one was near enough to hear him except Tully and Candy, he said, “Uh, Grandpa, I wanted to tell you
…”

He stopped, unsure of what to say.

“What, son?” asked Tully.

“I just want to say … Jimmy's a good quarterback too, and … if you think he should start, that's all right.”

Tully put a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate you telling me that, Cap.”

“Well, I think Cap should start,” Candy said. “He's a better player than Jimmy any day.”

Cap smiled gratefully at his sister. “I don't know. Jimmy's good.”

Tully pointed to where the rest of the team stood waiting. “Let's get started. I have some news for everybody.”

Cap noticed that Sable was with Jimmy and the other Panthers. He had stayed for all of yesterday's practice but had not said
much.

Tully said, “First, we have a scrimmage scheduled next Tuesday with Bee Town. We're due there at four. If you can get rides
from your folks, that'd be helpful.”

“I can help with that,” said Sable.

Tully nodded. “Thanks.”

“How does the scrimmage work?” Sam asked.

“It's played under game rules, on a regulation field,” Tully said. “Each team runs a certain number of plays and then we switch.
We'll have full pads and helmets, thanks to some last-minute donations we're due to receive tomorrow morning. We won't keep
score, because even though we play by official rules, it's just a kind of practice. In the next few days, we need to work
on special team stuff: kickoffs, receiving, and punts. Also, extra-point plays—”

Sable cleared his throat. “Tully, you don't mind my hanging around, do you?”

“Be my guest,” Tully replied.

They practiced the plays they had been working on, with Jimmy and Cap alternating at quarterback, and Candy, Bobby Jo, and
Gabe filling out the practice squad.

At one point, Cap called a pitch to Hoot, going around left end with Fritz clearing away tacklers. Ben snapped and pulled
to his left, Fritz thundering by his side. Cap pivoted and Hoot broke left. Cap flipped the ball behind Hoot's back and kicked
the ground angrily as Tully whistled the play dead.

“Sorry,” Cap said to Hoot, who shrugged. “We'll get 'em next time.”

Jimmy wouldn't have done that, Cap thought. Maybe he deserves to be the starter.

Sable strolled over. “Son, you mind a suggestion from an old fossil?” He turned to Tully. “If it's okay with you, that is.”

Tully nodded.

Sable picked up the football. “The reason you have trouble controlling a pitchout is partly footwork. Take a longer first
step so your feet aren't too close together. When you pitch the ball, make more
of a full-arm motion, not a wrist flip. 'Specially since your hands aren't big enough to control the ball all that well.”

Sable looked at Hoot. “Make that move again, son, and I'll show you all how it's done.”

Hoot took off as he had done for Cap, and Sable gracefully wheeled around and made a perfect pitch, which Hoot caught in full
stride.

Cap had to admit it did look better than his clumsy move.

“Now you try it,” said Sable, taking the ball from Hoot and giving it to Cap.

This time, Cap tried to do exactly what Sable had done and found that it made a difference. The ball was right on target.

“There you go,” said Sable.

“Thanks, Mr. Cash,” Cap said.

Sable grinned. “Jimmy makes pitchouts well because I taught him what I just taught you. Pitchouts are important in this game,
wouldn't you say, Tully?”

“Uh-huh,” Tully said.

Sable picked up another ball. “Listen, long as I'm going to be around anyway, why not let me help? I
mean, you have your hands full with everything these fellas still have to learn, and I can split things up with you. What
do you say?”

Tully's jaw muscles were clenched, and it was clear to Cap that his grandfather wasn't delighted by the idea.

Sable held up a hand before Tully could reply. “Now, I understand this is still your team. I'd be just an assistant.”

Finally Tully said, “That would be fine with me, Sable. I guess it may be a little too much for one man, at that.”

Sable chuckled. “That's the idea! And, after all, pitchouts and ball handling were never specialities of yours in our playing
days, were they?”

Cap saw Jimmy turn away, red-faced.

T
ully ran practice that day, as usual. But now that Tully had accepted him as an assistant, Sable seemed to feel he had the
right to comment on everything the Panthers did.

Sometimes it would be about Tully's choice of strategy: “You better hope Sandville doesn't have any audibles to call at the
line, or they'll read that defense, change plays, and short-pass you to death, with the middle open like that.”

Sometimes it would be about the way a player carried out an assignment. Many of these comments were aimed at Cap, and they
were always just loud enough for Cap to hear: “The boy just loves those bombs. As soon as a defense reads that tendency, they'll
send in rushers, hurry the passes or play soft
against sweeps and short gains, and look for the bomb.”

The one he never criticized was Jimmy.

Then, just when Tully was about to explode, Sable would give some good advice. After Candy beat Sam and caught a sideline
pass from Jimmy, Sable went to the unhappy boy. “Sam, if you drop back three more yards as she comes off the line and watch
her belt buckle, you can anticipate her cut. A receiver can fake with his head or with his feet, but he can't fake with the
middle of his body.”

Which, Cap saw, was valuable advice.

Even with the tension it was a good practice, and Cap saw that the Panthers were beginning to jell as a team and become familiar
with the techniques of six-man football.

The happiest moment of the day came when Hoot tried to kick field goals through a pair of makeshift goalposts that Tully had
had put up. Cap and Jimmy took turns as the holder.

Hoot's first try, from twenty yards away, flew way off to the right. He was kicking the old-fashioned way, approaching the
ball straight on rather than soccer-style, from the side.

“Don't look up before you kick,” Tully said. “I guarantee you, the goalposts won't move. Look at where you want the ball to
go before the snap, then keep your head down. Don't worry about rushers—your blockers will keep them away, so don't get distracted.”

Hoot's next kick sailed through the uprights, with yards to spare.

Tully and Sable clapped and the others cheered.

“Way to go!” Tully shouted. “Want to try moving the ball back a little?”

Hoot kicked one of two attempts from about the fifteen-yard line and was nearly automatic from point-after range.

“Keep working on the kicks,” Sable said, “and you might add five or ten yards to your range. Those placekicks are valuable.”

Hoot was good on kickoffs too, but the best punter on the team was Cap. He could sail a punt high so that defenders could
reach a receiver quickly.

After working for a while on kickoffs, punts, and returns, Tully blew his whistle.

“Good work today, everyone! Cap, having a
quarterback who can punt means we might be able to try quick kicks sometime and catch 'em unawares. You can pick up a lot
of yards with a quick kick.”

Cap suddenly felt a rush of excitement. Did that mean he was going to be the starter?

“If your offense moves the ball the way it ought to,” muttered Sable, “you shouldn't need to quick kick.”

Tully didn't say anything in reply.

“See everyone here tomorrow at the usual time, ready to work!” Tully called. “We have two practices left before the scrimmage
in Bee Town, so let's make the most of them.”

“Hey, guys,” called Ben, “who's up for going over to the Spot for something to eat?”

The Spot was Cowpen's snack shop and diner, and the main hangout for local kids.

“Cool!” Mick Avery said.

Several other players sounded eager to go, and Bobby Jo cleared her throat.

“Are practice squadders welcome too?”

“Sure,” Sam said, grinning. “You guys are part of this team!”

Jimmy was smiling happily and looked over at
Sable. “Gramps, okay if I go? Someone can drop me off later.”

Cap nodded. “We can give Jimmy a ride, right, Grandpa?”

“No problem,” replied Tully.

Sable shook his head. “I think you'll have to take a rain check on that, Jim.”

His grandson's face fell. “But—”

“You have chores to do at home,” Sable explained. “There'll be other times.”

“Okay,” Jimmy mumbled, not looking at the other players.

Cap and Ben exchanged a glance, both feeling sorry for Jimmy.

“Sam, I'm supposed to drop you off at home, too,” Sable added. “I had strict orders from your mom.”

“Uh, maybe I should get home too,” Fritz said.

“Well, I'm going, for sure,” Hoot said.

The group at the Spot included six of the nine Panthers and the three practice-squad members as well. But there was a little
cloud over the gathering.

Afterward, Hoot and Ben stood with Cap before heading home.

“Why'd Mr. Cash have to do that?” Ben asked, looking angry. “It wasn't right! Jimmy wanted to come with us.”

“He surely did,” Cap agreed. “And so did Sam, and I bet Fritz would have come too, if they had.”

“Cap, what's the deal with Mr. Cash and your grandpa?” Hoot asked.

Cap shrugged. “Beats me. I know they used to play against each other a million years ago. It sounds like Mr. Cash still has
it in for Grandpa, even now.”

“Your grandpa is a nice man,” Ben said. “But, you know, he doesn't exactly love Mr. Cash, either.”

Cap nodded wearily. “Guess he doesn't. I don't get it—all this about some old games from way back! I hope they can get over
it.”

“Me, too,” Hoot agreed. “They're our coaches, and we're a team. They have to work together.”

Cap sighed. “Maybe I'll talk to Grandpa tonight and ask him whether he and Mr. Cash can get along better. We have enough to
worry about without our coaches getting on each other like that.”

“Good idea,” Hoot said. “Could be they don't realize that it's making the rest of us uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, and it could hurt the team,” Ben added.

“Well, I'll sure give it a shot,” Cap answered.

But in his own mind he was asking himself, If Grandpa picks me to start, are he and Mr. Cash going to have a war?

A
fter dinner, Candy went inside to help their father do the dishes. Their mother went upstairs to work at her computer. Tully
was relaxing on his favorite porch chair and Cap figured this was a good time to bring up the tricky subject. He sat next
to his grandfather on a footstool.

“We're looking pretty good, huh, Grandpa?”