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Authors: Matt Christopher
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transferred to other parts of the country. I regret to say that I am one of them.”
Chip stared at him.
“This is my last day with you,” the coach continued. “Phil Wayne will be your head coach from now on. I have asked Adam Quigley,
Firehose’s dad, to assist him, and he says he’ll be glad to. Phil played football for two years in high school, and so did
Mr. Quigley. I don’t expect that you’ll win every game in the league, but with a lot of hard work and cooperation — and if
you listen to Mr. Wayne and Mr. Quigley — I don’t see why you can’t win at least a couple.”
He smiled. “You’re only playing six games, so that would be thirty-three and one-third percent. Not a bad average, really,
consideringthat most of you ballplayers are about as green as Phil’s sweatshirt.”
“My only request now is that you call me Coach or Phil, not Mr. Wayne,” Phil said. “Mr. Wayne is my father!” The boys laughed.
Chip saw Phil grin at Mr. Kash.
“You’ve learned three plays fairly well,” said Mr. Kash. “It’s too bad that we’ve had so much rain. I think we would’ve had
a better team. Practice every day from now on — with Fridays off as rest days.” He smiled. “Well, boys, this is it. It’s been
a lot of fun. I’m awfully sorry I can’t be with you any longer. I love football. I love to coach it, especially to a bunch
of hardworking boys like you. Maybe I’ll stop and see you play one of these days. Good luck!”
Some of the boys stood staring at him as if his words had glued them to the ground. Others ran up to him and shook his hand
and told him how much they’d miss him.
Chip was one of those who couldn’t move. Finally, he did. He went up to Mr. Kash and shook his hand and said that he was sorry
to see him go.
Chip turned away, feeling as blue as anyone could feel. With Phil Wayne as head coach and Mr. Quigley as assistant coach,
he couldn’t see how the Cayugans could possibly win a game. As a matter of fact, he predicted that the Cayugans would lose
every single one of them.
2
C hip didn’t care about going to practice on Tuesday. With Mr. Kash gone, the team would be nothing. Neither Phil Wayne nor
Mr. Quigley knew enough about football to coach a team. All the coaches in the league were supposed to have the qualifications
of knowing football and how to coach, but neither Phil nor Mr. Quigley had.
The trouble was that there weren’t enough men in town who could qualify. Those who could already had teams to coach, except
Bart Franks, the former college football star of Notre Dame. He wasn’t able to coach,though, because he was a salesman and on the road most of the time.
Chip wished his father could coach. But Mr. Chase had never played football. He knew even less about it than Phil Wayne did.
He enjoyed the game, though. He had seen all the games last year, and he enjoyed watching the pro games on TV.
Anyway, Chip’s dad was plenty busy with other things. He and Mrs. Chase were co-presidents of the PTA. He was also secretary
of the Lions Club and chairman of a tool designers’ organization. He couldn’t find time to coach a football team even if he
knew how.
Chip attended practice only because he didn’t want to let Phil Wayne or Mr. Quigley down. He went over to get Splash Tuttle,
and the two of them walked together to the park.
“Hi, Chip! Hi, Splash!” Danny Livermore called, cracking a wide grin.
Chip gave a half-wave.
“What a nut,” Splash muttered. “Smiles no matter if we lose every game in the league.”
Phil came over.
“Hi, fellas,” he said. “Been waiting for you. I want the backfield men to drill on pass plays and line plunges, so put on
your helmets and let’s get into our positions.” He turned and yelled to the players running around on the field, throwing
and catching footballs. Nine players broke away from the group and came trotting forward.
Two of them were fullback Spencer Keel and
Chip stared at him.
“This is my last day with you,” the coach continued. “Phil Wayne will be your head coach from now on. I have asked Adam Quigley,
Firehose’s dad, to assist him, and he says he’ll be glad to. Phil played football for two years in high school, and so did
Mr. Quigley. I don’t expect that you’ll win every game in the league, but with a lot of hard work and cooperation — and if
you listen to Mr. Wayne and Mr. Quigley — I don’t see why you can’t win at least a couple.”
He smiled. “You’re only playing six games, so that would be thirty-three and one-third percent. Not a bad average, really,
consideringthat most of you ballplayers are about as green as Phil’s sweatshirt.”
“My only request now is that you call me Coach or Phil, not Mr. Wayne,” Phil said. “Mr. Wayne is my father!” The boys laughed.
Chip saw Phil grin at Mr. Kash.
“You’ve learned three plays fairly well,” said Mr. Kash. “It’s too bad that we’ve had so much rain. I think we would’ve had
a better team. Practice every day from now on — with Fridays off as rest days.” He smiled. “Well, boys, this is it. It’s been
a lot of fun. I’m awfully sorry I can’t be with you any longer. I love football. I love to coach it, especially to a bunch
of hardworking boys like you. Maybe I’ll stop and see you play one of these days. Good luck!”
Some of the boys stood staring at him as if his words had glued them to the ground. Others ran up to him and shook his hand
and told him how much they’d miss him.
Chip was one of those who couldn’t move. Finally, he did. He went up to Mr. Kash and shook his hand and said that he was sorry
to see him go.
Chip turned away, feeling as blue as anyone could feel. With Phil Wayne as head coach and Mr. Quigley as assistant coach,
he couldn’t see how the Cayugans could possibly win a game. As a matter of fact, he predicted that the Cayugans would lose
every single one of them.
2
C hip didn’t care about going to practice on Tuesday. With Mr. Kash gone, the team would be nothing. Neither Phil Wayne nor
Mr. Quigley knew enough about football to coach a team. All the coaches in the league were supposed to have the qualifications
of knowing football and how to coach, but neither Phil nor Mr. Quigley had.
The trouble was that there weren’t enough men in town who could qualify. Those who could already had teams to coach, except
Bart Franks, the former college football star of Notre Dame. He wasn’t able to coach,though, because he was a salesman and on the road most of the time.
Chip wished his father could coach. But Mr. Chase had never played football. He knew even less about it than Phil Wayne did.
He enjoyed the game, though. He had seen all the games last year, and he enjoyed watching the pro games on TV.
Anyway, Chip’s dad was plenty busy with other things. He and Mrs. Chase were co-presidents of the PTA. He was also secretary
of the Lions Club and chairman of a tool designers’ organization. He couldn’t find time to coach a football team even if he
knew how.
Chip attended practice only because he didn’t want to let Phil Wayne or Mr. Quigley down. He went over to get Splash Tuttle,
and the two of them walked together to the park.
“Hi, Chip! Hi, Splash!” Danny Livermore called, cracking a wide grin.
Chip gave a half-wave.
“What a nut,” Splash muttered. “Smiles no matter if we lose every game in the league.”
Phil came over.
“Hi, fellas,” he said. “Been waiting for you. I want the backfield men to drill on pass plays and line plunges, so put on
your helmets and let’s get into our positions.” He turned and yelled to the players running around on the field, throwing
and catching footballs. Nine players broke away from the group and came trotting forward.
Two of them were fullback Spencer Keel and
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