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Authors: Matt Christopher
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we had them on the run!”
“Don’t give up,” said Michael, trying hard to keep cool over the loss. “Just don’t give up.”
In three plays the Cheetahs gained only six yards. They punted on the fourth. Thekick went to their forty-six, where Michael grabbed it out of the air and carried it to the Cheetahs’ thirty-one.
“We’re almost back where we started from,” he said happily in the huddle. “Okay. Flat pass to Bob.”
The play succeeded for nineteen yards, putting the ball on the Cheetahs’ twelve. On the next play Vince carried the ball through
left tackle for their second touchdown. Then he booted it between the uprights to make it fifteen points against the Cheetahs’
twenty.
“Another six points and we’ll beat ’em,” said Lumpy, grinning from a sweat-smeared face.
Vince chuckled. “Good adding, Lumpy. And you did it without a calculator, too.”
“Smart mouth,” snorted Lumpy.
Vince’s kickoff was the poorest since the season had started. It was a bouncing kickthat Charlie Jarvis snapped up on his own forty and carried to the Eagles’ forty-three.
“Save that energy for your runs,” said Michael, as Vince disgustedly kicked up sod with the toe of his shoe.
“Oh, sure,” replied Vince. “As if we’ll have another chance.”
“We’ll have another chance. We have to,” Michael growled.
At that moment, Coach Cotter called a time-out. Michael rushed to the sidelines ahead of the rest of the team.
This is my chance!
he thought wildly.
I’ve got to get to Tom and tell him what the team wants from him.
He had no time to waste. As his teammates gathered around the coach, he slipped onto the bench beside Tom in the wheelchair.
“Tom,” he whispered urgently. “Listen closely. You’re going back in the game.”
Tom gave him a sharp look. “But you’re playing so well— ,” he started to say.
“Cut it out!” Michael hissed. “I’m not playing any better than you usually do. There’s only one difference: confidence. I’ve
got it, and you need to get it, because that’s what your teammates want from you.”
“Tom!” Coach Cotter barked. “Get over here and listen up!”
Michael stood up but gave Tom one last meaningful look before he rejoined the team.
The horn blared, signaling the end of the time-out. Michael hesitated, waiting to feel the vibrations that indicated Tom was
trying TEC. But no vibrations came.
Come on, Tom!
Michael’s mind called out. There was no reply.
Abe Abrams had the Cheetahs fired up as he led them down the field like an army on a triumphant march. Then, on the Eagles’four-yard line, they were stopped, and stopped cold. Three line plunges and a pass try failed to get them into the end zone.
“T-forty-three drive! On two!” Michael ordered in the huddle.
The play went for two yards. The Cheetahs, too, were holding.
Michael’s forehead glistened with sweat as he faced the guys in the huddle.
“We’ve got to do it now or they’ll break through when they get the ball,” he said.
Suddenly, he felt the tingling. Tom was trying TEC! Michael immediately tuned in— and moments later found himself back in
his wheelchair.
Okay, Tom, go for it!
he urged silently.
As he watched, the huddle broke with a clap. Tom took the snap and stepped back into the pocket a couple of yards. Michaelrealized he was planning to throw a long bomb. Both ends were sprinting down the field, Bob at the left side, Stan at the
right. Both were covered.
Then Stan buttonhooked in, and for a moment he was in the clear. Tom pulled his arm back and shot him a pass. The ball hit
Stan in the gut, and Stan took it from there. He galloped down the field like a horse running a close race, and made it with
yards to spare.
Cheetahs 20, Eagles 21! The Eagles were ahead by a point!
Moments later, the whistle blew. The game was over. The Eagles grabbed one another and cheered.
“One point, boy, that was close! But we won!” Jack cried, throwing
“Don’t give up,” said Michael, trying hard to keep cool over the loss. “Just don’t give up.”
In three plays the Cheetahs gained only six yards. They punted on the fourth. Thekick went to their forty-six, where Michael grabbed it out of the air and carried it to the Cheetahs’ thirty-one.
“We’re almost back where we started from,” he said happily in the huddle. “Okay. Flat pass to Bob.”
The play succeeded for nineteen yards, putting the ball on the Cheetahs’ twelve. On the next play Vince carried the ball through
left tackle for their second touchdown. Then he booted it between the uprights to make it fifteen points against the Cheetahs’
twenty.
“Another six points and we’ll beat ’em,” said Lumpy, grinning from a sweat-smeared face.
Vince chuckled. “Good adding, Lumpy. And you did it without a calculator, too.”
“Smart mouth,” snorted Lumpy.
Vince’s kickoff was the poorest since the season had started. It was a bouncing kickthat Charlie Jarvis snapped up on his own forty and carried to the Eagles’ forty-three.
“Save that energy for your runs,” said Michael, as Vince disgustedly kicked up sod with the toe of his shoe.
“Oh, sure,” replied Vince. “As if we’ll have another chance.”
“We’ll have another chance. We have to,” Michael growled.
At that moment, Coach Cotter called a time-out. Michael rushed to the sidelines ahead of the rest of the team.
This is my chance!
he thought wildly.
I’ve got to get to Tom and tell him what the team wants from him.
He had no time to waste. As his teammates gathered around the coach, he slipped onto the bench beside Tom in the wheelchair.
“Tom,” he whispered urgently. “Listen closely. You’re going back in the game.”
Tom gave him a sharp look. “But you’re playing so well— ,” he started to say.
“Cut it out!” Michael hissed. “I’m not playing any better than you usually do. There’s only one difference: confidence. I’ve
got it, and you need to get it, because that’s what your teammates want from you.”
“Tom!” Coach Cotter barked. “Get over here and listen up!”
Michael stood up but gave Tom one last meaningful look before he rejoined the team.
The horn blared, signaling the end of the time-out. Michael hesitated, waiting to feel the vibrations that indicated Tom was
trying TEC. But no vibrations came.
Come on, Tom!
Michael’s mind called out. There was no reply.
Abe Abrams had the Cheetahs fired up as he led them down the field like an army on a triumphant march. Then, on the Eagles’four-yard line, they were stopped, and stopped cold. Three line plunges and a pass try failed to get them into the end zone.
“T-forty-three drive! On two!” Michael ordered in the huddle.
The play went for two yards. The Cheetahs, too, were holding.
Michael’s forehead glistened with sweat as he faced the guys in the huddle.
“We’ve got to do it now or they’ll break through when they get the ball,” he said.
Suddenly, he felt the tingling. Tom was trying TEC! Michael immediately tuned in— and moments later found himself back in
his wheelchair.
Okay, Tom, go for it!
he urged silently.
As he watched, the huddle broke with a clap. Tom took the snap and stepped back into the pocket a couple of yards. Michaelrealized he was planning to throw a long bomb. Both ends were sprinting down the field, Bob at the left side, Stan at the
right. Both were covered.
Then Stan buttonhooked in, and for a moment he was in the clear. Tom pulled his arm back and shot him a pass. The ball hit
Stan in the gut, and Stan took it from there. He galloped down the field like a horse running a close race, and made it with
yards to spare.
Cheetahs 20, Eagles 21! The Eagles were ahead by a point!
Moments later, the whistle blew. The game was over. The Eagles grabbed one another and cheered.
“One point, boy, that was close! But we won!” Jack cried, throwing
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