The Team That Couldn't Lose (3 page)

After the end of the first quarter, it appeared that the fans who had figured the Duckbills would smother the Cayugans had
figured right. Nick Savino of the Duckbills flipped a short pass for a touchdown, then kicked for the extra point. It was
good. Later he threw a long one. It would’ve gone for another touchdown if the intended receiver hadn’t run into one of the
goalposts.

In the second quarter, the Duckbills made some long successful runs. One of them resulted in a touchdown that didn’t count
because the referee spotted a Duckbill throwing a block from behind.

“Clipping!” yelled the referee.

Before the half was over, though, Joe Bloom broke through tackle for a twenty-four-yard
touchdown run. The half ended with the Duckbills leading 14-0.

“We’d better start using Play Two this second half,” Chip said to Phil. “We’d just better, or they’ll trim us.”

“Hang on, Chip,” Phil said calmly. “We’ll use it all right.”

His voice was calm. But Chip saw that the hand holding the notebook was trembling.

The Cayugans pulled the big play just before the end of the third quarter. They had their backs against the wall — right on
their own eight-yard line. Chip didn’t figure that Phil would call in the play now, but he did.

It went off perfectly. Chip lateraled the ball to Splash. Splash heaved him a forward pass, which he caught and carried all
the way down to the Duckbills’ end zone. Spence converted for the extra point.

The Duckbills began rolling again. Twice the flag was dropped as the referee spotted
Duckbills linemen offside. The Duckbills sputtered about the calls and tried harder than ever to regain lost ground. Then
they fumbled the ball on their twenty-two-yard line, and the Cayugans recovered.

“Chip!” said a new voice in the huddle. “Phil wants us to use Play Two!”

It was a substitute. Another player ran off the field.

Chip smiled. “Okay. Play Two. Let’s go!”

This time, the play didn’t click. Hans Lodder’s man had gotten past him and was about to tackle Chip. Luckily, Chip managed
to twist out of his grasp, got a nice block from Jim Kolar, and went galloping down the field for the Cayugans’ second touchdown.

The kick for an extra point wasn’t good, and Chip’s spirits sank again. They trailed the Duckbills 14-13. A tie, at least,
would’ve been better.

But the game wasn’t over yet. In the fourth quarter, with two and a half minutes to go, Spence booted a field goal from the
Duckbills’ fourteen. It was good! The fans went wild again.

The game ended with the Duckbills on the Cayugans’ four-yard line: Cayugans 16, Duckbills 14.

Once again the Cayugans jumped for joy, laughing and shouting. Danny Livermore joined in the hilarity.

Then Splash looked around for the coach. “Hey,” he said, “where’s Phil?”

Chip and the others looked around, too. Phil was nowhere in sight.

“Guess he’s gone,” said Chip. “How do you like that? He didn’t even give us a chance to congratulate him.”

C
hip turned to Danny. “Did Phil say anything to you, Danny?” he asked.

The manager of the undefeated Cayugans looked at Chip with his mouth open and his large eyes staring perplexedly.

“Well, just before the game was over, he wanted me to put all the balls into the bag,” Danny replied. “Then, right after the
game, he took the ball that was used in the game, stuck it in the bag, and ran to his car as if his house was on fire. I don’t
know why he left so suddenly.”

“Did you ask him?” Splash asked.

“Yes. I said, ‘Why are you leaving so soon, Phil?’ He said he had to get home.”

“That’s all he said?”

“That’s all.”

What was troubling Phil? Chip wondered. He wouldn’t have run off so quickly, without even congratulating his team, if something
wasn’t troubling him, would he?

“It must’ve been something very important,” Danny said. “He wouldn’t run off for no good reason.” His eyes brightened as he
turned to Chip. “Chip, those catches you made were the sensational moments of the game!”

Chip smiled. “Thanks, Danny. But Splash deserves a lot of the credit. He threw those passes.”

“I know. They were right on target, too.” Danny turned to the left halfback, whose dark hair was matted down from sweat. “Just
like they were supposed to be.”

Chip, Splash, Spencer, and Danny started to walk home together. The boys discussed Phil and the plays he had used in their
two games. No matter how you looked at it, it was those special plays that had won the games for the Cayugans. They were difficult
plays — a lot more difficult than any of those Mr. Kash had taught them. Yet Phil and Mr. Quigley had drilled the Cayugans
until they had learned the plays well enough to pull them off successfully.

“I think Phil’s been holding out on us,” said Chip. “I think he knows more about football than we figured. Or even Mr. Kash
figured.”

“I think he does, too,” said Splash. “He probably figured out those plays himself. Boy, they worked beautifully.”

“Why should he have held out on us?” Spencer asked wonderingly. “Why didn’t he tell Mr. Kash about those plays?”

“Phil isn’t that kind of guy,” said Danny mildly. “He keeps a lot of things to himself. Maybe he thought he would’ve embarrassed
Mr. Kash if he had suggested any plays to him.”

“That could be,” agreed Chip. “Phil wouldn’t do a thing that might make a guy think he’s awfully smart or something.”

On Monday, Phil had a new play he taught the boys. He called it Play Three. Chip and the other guys thought it was odd to
give the plays such simple names. The whole idea of learning a brand-new play each week seemed strange, too. Chip had never
heard of a coach doing things the way Phil Wayne was doing them.

The crazy part of it was that the plays worked. That Saturday, the Cayugans played the Black Elks and came away with a win,
20-14. The second touchdown for the
Cayugans had been scored by accident. The Black Elks had fumbled a snap from center, which Gordie had recovered and had run
all the way down the field with. But the first and third touchdowns were the results of the new play Phil Wayne had taught
them.

The crowd, which had almost doubled since the first game, cheered their heads off when the game was over. All through the
game, the Black Elks had looked so much better than the Cayugans that it had seemed impossible for them to lose. But lose
they did. The Black Elks could hardly believe it themselves as they trudged off the field.

Chip saw Phil toss the last ball into the canvas bag and could tell that the coach was anxious to leave quickly again. But
Phil was stopped by a short, gray-haired man with a stubble of beard. It was Jasper McFall, a grumpy-looking character but
a real football fan.

“Say, Phil,” he said, squinting at the coach with piercing brown eyes, “where’d you get that play that you used to pull off
those touchdowns?”

Chip thought that Phil’s face turned a shade pale. “Just got them, Jasper,” Phil answered, his voice wavering a little. “Worked
okay, didn’t they?”

“They sure did. But I’m kind of curious, Phil,” Jasper McFall said. Chip took a step closer so as not to miss anything. “We
used that play sixty years ago at the high school when I was playing backfield. Saw your first two games and recognized the
plays you used in them, too. We used them ourselves . . . sixty years ago. Where’d
you
get them, Phil?”

Phil’s face turned a shade paler. All at once, without saying another word to Jasper McFall, he slung the bag of football
equipment over his shoulder and strode away. This time Danny went along with him, one
hand under the bag to make it lighter for the coach. Danny looked back once and gave Jasper McFall a dirty look.

“What about it, Mr. Quigley?” Jasper McFall asked the assistant coach. “Where did Phil get those tricky plays?”

Mr. Quigley shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest idea, Mr. McFall. I thought they were his own.”

“His own, nothing,” Jasper snorted. “He couldn’t dream up plays like that. You heard me say that we used those same plays
sixty years ago, didn’t you? Well, we did. He got them from somebody who played then, and I’m going to find out who!”

With that he gave another snort and tromped disgustedly away.

D
uring the noon hour on Monday, Chip and Splash went to see Jack McKane, the high school football coach. Chip had known Mr.
McKane for years, since he was a friend of Chip’s father. Mr. McKane was six feet, four inches tall and thin as a rail. You’d
think he’d been a basketball player back in his college days, but he hadn’t. He had played end on his football team. There
was something else that surprised a lot of people. He wrote short stories for boys’ magazines.

He asked the boys to sit down, then looked at them across his broad, almost bare desk.
“Well, Chip, Splash, I’m honored by your visit.” Mr. McKane smiled at them. “But neither of you is a student of mine, so it
isn’t because of poor marks, it it?”

Chip grinned. “No, it isn’t, Mr. McKane.” Then he explained about the new plays Phil had taught them and about the plays’
helping the Cayugans win all of their games.

“We just want to know if you gave Phil those plays,” said Chip. “He wouldn’t say anything about them. And Jasper McFall said
that his high school team had used them sixty years ago.”

“Sixty years ago? And who’s Jasper McFall?”

“An old guy who comes to all our football games,” answered Chip. “He said that he used to play in the backfield for the high
school.”

Mr. McKane picked up a pencil and began
tapping it against the desk. “No, I’m sorry, Chip. I’m not the one who’s given any plays to your coach. Fact is, I don’t even
know Phil Wayne.”

“Well . . . okay. Thanks, Mr. McKane.”

The boys got up to leave. Mr. McKane swung around in his swivel chair. “Have you asked Bart Franks? He played football in
college. Maybe he’s the one.”

“I don’t think it would be him,” said Splash. “His kid plays with the Stingrays.”

Mr. McKane chuckled. “In that case, you’re right. I don’t think it’d be him, either.” He rose from the chair and walked out
into the hall with the boys. “Probably it wouldn’t be anyone who went to college in recent years, anyway. If this Jasper McFall
says his team used those plays sixty years ago, then it’s probably someone who played on the team then. But what if someone
did give the plays
to your coach? Why should anyone care? There’s nothing wrong in using old football plays.”

Chip shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter, I guess. It’s just that Jasper McFall was so concerned about it. And why does Phil
have to be so mysterious about it?”

“You have a point there. Maybe Phil has a good reason why he doesn’t want anyone to know where he gets the plays. And you
say he’s been using a new one every week?”

“Yes. He might teach us a new one at our practice tonight, too. If he
has
a new one.”

“Hmm, sounds interesting. Let me know how everything comes out.”

“Sure will,” said Chip.

Sure enough, Phil Wayne had a new play that evening. He called it Play Four. He explained it to the boys and Mr. Quigley,
then
the coaches helped the team work it. It was another clever play that was supposed to result in a touchdown if it went off
right.

Of course nearly all plays are supposed to result in touchdowns, Phil Wayne reminded the boys. But these were special plays.
He wanted the Cayugans to use a different one each week so that the opposing team would be caught completely off guard. They
would continue using the new plays in each game, plus those Mr. Kash had taught them.

After practice, Chip and Danny were helping Phil with the equipment when a man came hobbling across the field. It was Jasper
McFall again.

“Phil!” Jasper yelled before he was within twenty feet of the coach. “That’s another play we used sixty years ago. Now don’t
tell me you dreamed that one up!”

A grin flickered on Phil’s lips, then died.
“Okay, I suppose I have to confess sooner or later,” he said. “Someone’s been sending me those plays through the mail, Jasper.”

Jasper McFall’s eyes gazed steadily on the coach’s as if he didn’t dare blink for fear Phil Wayne would vanish from his sight.
“Who?”

“I don’t know,” said Phil honestly.

“Horsefeathers!” Jasper McFall snorted. “Somebody who played with me during those days is giving you those plays. Now, who
is it? Sakes alive, man, what harm is there in telling me? I just want to know, that’s all. How about it, Mr. Quigley?”

“I don’t know any more about it than Phil does,” replied Mr. Quigley.

“I told you,” said Phil seriously, “I don’t know. Whoever sends those play patterns to me never signs his name.”

“Blah!” Jasper McFall snorted again. “Young men nowadays are just too smart for their own good. Won’t give you a decent answer.”
He stalked away angrily, grumbling under his breath.

Chip approached Phil. “Coach, is it really true that someone’s been sending you the plays through the mail?”

Phil looked around cautiously. “You and Danny stick around until the others leave,” he said quietly. “I’ll tell you about
it then.”

“Can you tell Splash, too?” asked Chip. “He can keep a secret.”

Phil considered it a moment. “Well, guess it won’t hurt for Splash to know.”

After all the other guys had gone, Phil repeated what he had said before. He had received the plays through the mail from
someone who didn’t sign his name. When the first play had come to him, he didn’t know whether he should use it or not, since
he didn’t know who had sent it, or whether the play would help the Cayugans. His frank opinion was that since the Cayugans
looked
so poor in practice and since both he and Mr. Quigley were poor coaches, nothing they did would help them score touchdowns,
let alone win games.

Then he discussed the strategy of Play One with Mr. Quigley, and they decided to teach it to the team. That was all they would
have the team do for the whole week: learn the play until they had it down pat. If they won, fine. They would use it again
the next week.