Date: Sun, 25 Oct 2015 12:05:19 -0400
From: Paul Knoke <paulkdoctor@gmail.com>
Subject: THE FATHER CONTRACT INSTALLMENT THIRTY-FIVE (REVISED)

INSTALLMENT THIRTY-FIVE
from

THE FATHER CONTRACT
by

Arthur J. Arrington

Edited Paul K. Scott

Please consider a donation to Nifty to keep this thrilling story of PJ
going on and on!

		       Chapter Sixty-Five: True Grit

At Monday's practice, the assignments for the Hagerton game were up on the
bulletin board. PJ checked and saw that the thirteen-year-olds of the first
string were back on offense. His and Erik's were listed for the defense and
special teams.

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," he told his roommate as they changed.

Erik just nodded.

When they reached the field, PJ spotted Matthew Aubrey's red hair in the
bleachers where he was sitting, already awaiting his arrival, clipboard in
hand. Running over to grab his friend by the arm, PJ told him, "Come on. We
gotta catch Coach Lewis before he gets busy."

The coach had just arrived on the sideline accompanied by two assistants
and carrying a clipboard of his own. PJ presented Matt to him with a
flourish. "Coach, this is my friend Matthew. He manages the wrestling team
for Coach Dutcher. He's smart, he knows all about football stuff too, and
he's a whiz at keeping statistics. He wants to help you out."

Caught by surprise, Coach Lewis at first looked startled, but after
glancing at PJ, who was treating him to the charming smile and polite
cute-kid act that was so disarming, he gave Matt an appraising
once-over. "You know how to keep football stats?" he finally asked.

"Yes- -Sir." Matt took a breath. PJ saw him make a successful effort to
meet Coach Lewis' gaze. "I can do that."

 "Well, I could sure use the help. Tell you what: why don't you stick with
me during practice. You can take some notes on your board. Then . . ."

PJ left them talking and went to join Erik, who nodded in satisfaction when
he heard the report that "Coach is gonna to make that Aubrey kid our
manager."

"That's a good thing. Brian says Matthew knows what he's doin'."

But PJ was frowning. "Lester an' those creep friends of his . . ."

"Coach'll take care of that," Erik assured him. "An' I'll keep an eye
out. Don't worry, PJ. He'll be okay."

They practiced hard that afternoon and the following two days as well,
trying to toughen themselves for what Erik kept warning was going to be an
extremely physical game. "Hagerton's a power team," he reminded PJ. "They
don't try fancy stuff. They just keep pounding away at you."

"Bill's gonna be there, isn't he?"

Erik smiled. "Yup. No way he'd miss this one. It's gonna be a battle. At
least I hope so." This last aside he added with a disdainful gesture toward
the other end of the field where Lester and the rest of the offense were
working. "I hope we put up a fight!"

PJ was only half-listening. Bill's gonna be there, he thought. If only Jack
could be.

More than anything, PJ wanted Jack to show up at a game. He didn't even
care if it was a whole game. It could be just a half, or a quarter--even
just for a few minutes. But he knew it wouldn't happen. The Sox were in the
playoffs. They'd finished the season at the top of their Division. "The Sox
are in the playoffs," he whispered under his breath. He'd been saying that
to himself ever since it had happened and loved the thrill of excitement
the words gave him. "In the playoffs!"  He murmured it again.

Jack was busy. Jack had to be with his team. Jack couldn't take time off
for a visit when the Sox were playing for an American League
Championship. PJ knew that. But still . . .

There were occasions when PJ missed Jack so much it was like a terrible
aching everywhere inside him. When he was alone and Erik was out of the
room, he'd sometimes open the closet door to stare at the Jack Canon
poster, imagining that he could feel a hand on his shoulder and hear the
voice he loved so much saying, "What's up, PJ? How's my Little Champ?"

That's how I want it to happen, he often said to himself. Like Bill does it
with Erik.

He didn't want to know ahead of time that Jack was coming. He wanted it to
be a surprise. He wanted the unexpected hug, the sound of that voice. He
wanted to look up and see what he so longed for--Jack smiling down at
him. He knew what he would do if that happened, and he wouldn't care who
saw it. He would throw his arms around Jack and hug him as hard as he could
and everything would be alright. They would be friends again. Best
friends. "An' even if he can't be my father," PJ whispered, "I'll be with
him. Jack will take care of me. I'll be safe. . . ."

While staring at his poster, PJ would slightly move his head to be sure the
tape repair he'd made was invisible. It mostly was, so that the tall,
confident image of Jack could look down on him with that smile he
remembered so well.

Anything's possible!

"You're gonna win, Jack," PJ vowed. "You're gonna take the Sox all the
way!"

From down the hall came the sound of footsteps. Someone. Erik? PJ closed
the closet door. If Erik came in, he would be seated at his desk,
pretending to study.

The baseball Division playoffs began on Tuesday. PJ followed them as best
he could on both the Internet and TV. He missed the game that was on in the
afternoon because of school and football. But he saw parts of one at
night. He still had homework to get done, and he was too tired from
practice to stay up very late, so he caught only a few innings. The Sox
started off badly, losing the first two contests at Fenway to the Seattle
Mariners. On Thursday, PJ was talking about that with Erik as they waited
to board the bus that was taking the football team to Hagerton.

"They're gonna win tonight, Erik, I just know they will."

"Maybe so, PJ." But his roommate wasn't exhibiting much conviction. "Just
don't get your hopes up. No team except the Yankees have ever lost the
first two games at home and gone on to win a Division series."

Matt Aubrey, clipboard in hand, smiled at the two of them as he checked
their names off when they climbed the steps onto the bus. Brian and Phil
followed right behind, having made the travel roster once again because
they were the top substitutes.

"But the Red Sox are better than the Mariners!" PJ asserted as they were
taking their seats. "They beat them in the regular season. They can do it
again."

In deference to PJ's feelings, Erik tried not to sound overly skeptical. "A
awful lot of people are counting them out. It's Jack's slump."

"Jack's gonna be okay," PJ insisted. "And the Red Sox are gonna win the
next three games. You'll see."

"Well, I hope you're right," Erik replied. "I want 'em to win as much as
you do."

"And we're going to win today," PJ confidently said. When Erik looked at
him, PJ met his gaze. "I just feel it."

The ride up the interstate to Hagerton was not long enough to cause PJ or
Phil any problems. Their bus rolled through the outskirts of a large town
and brought them to a sprawling regional school complex. The physical
education building where they changed was brand-new. After PJ got his
equipment on and went outside, he saw that their game was going to be on a
big high-school field with grandstands, light towers, and a fancy
electronic scoreboard. Already there was a fairly big crowd gathered on the
Hagerton side. "Boy, this is nice!" he told Erik.

Brian and Phil, who'd followed them to the field, were looking around in
awe. "Man, somebody around here likes football!" Brian exclaimed. "This is
even better than our big field."

"Yeah, they take it seriously here," Erik told him. "But we take it
seriously too."

Phil had been trying to get Erik's attention. "Look," he said, "your dad's
here."

They all turned to look as Erik's face broke into a happy smile. "Bill!" he
shouted, waving his arm. Up in the stands on the Gordonsville side, Bill
grinned and waved back. All four boys signaled that they'd seen him. "Gee,
your dad's about the only person who came," Brian said. PJ looked up and
counted a half a dozen people in the huge stands on their side. He wished
Billy could've have come too, but he knew Mr. Thatcher could only arrange
his work schedule to bring him to home games.

The Hagerton team was just as tough as Erik had said it would be. They made
a long drive on their first possession and nearly got a touchdown, which
would've been PJ's fault if they'd succeeded. The first series of downs had
convinced him that Hagerton was not going to pass very often. Their
formations were all set up for runs, and it was clear from the style of
play that their preferred offense was an up-the-middle attack. The receiver
he was supposed to defend was older and bigger than he was, but not nearly
as agile or quick. PJ got so focused on playing up to stop the run that he
nearly forgot all about him. When an obvious passing situation came on a
third-and-long with Hagerton all the way down on the Gordonsville nineteen,
PJ nearly got burned. The opposing quarterback, instead of handing off,
suddenly faded back. PJ belatedly realized that the receiver he was
supposed to be watching was loose in the flat behind him. He just barely
managed to deflect a pass that probably would've gone for a touchdown had
it been completed.

"You cut that kinda close," Erik chided afterwards.

"I wasn't expecting them to pass."

His roommate nodded. "We're lucky we stopped 'em."

After the Hagerton team tried a field goal that missed badly, the
Gordonsville offense took over on their own twenty.

From the sideline, PJ watched the first string go to work. It had been two
weeks since they had embarrassed themselves at the Perry game, and since
then, Coach Lewis had spent most of his time with them. They did seem to be
executing a little better, the quarterback particularly. But PJ noticed
that the play-calling was conservative. Lester stayed on the ground using
simple running plays. On this first possession, he made only two first
downs before they had to punt.

The opening quarter remained scoreless as the teams battled back and forth
on the field. The tackling was rough. Hagerton had a number of husky
players who luckily were not fast enough to take full advantage of their
size, although PJ saw stars a few times when he brought down opposing ball
carriers bigger than he was. But despite the fact that the Gordonsville
defense was holding its own, disaster struck just before the quarter ended!
Lester and company were playing solidly, if not spectacularly, until they
tried an end sweep in a second-and-five situation. Garry, the running back
got nailed by a hard tackle. He fumbled. The big Hagerton player who
recovered the ball rumbled upfield and made it all the way to the
Gordonsville ten before he was tackled. This time PJ, Erik, and the rest of
the defense couldn't stop the attack, and Hagerton scored. Their punter,
who like Tommy also kicked extra points, split the uprights. Suddenly,
Gordonsville was behind by seven points.

"Shit, shit, shit!" PJ heard Erik mutter as they ran off the field.

After Hagerton's kickoff and as his offense took the field, Coach Lewis
shouted, "Okay guys, let's get it back!" But the dispirited Gordonsville
players didn't respond. They went three-and-out, and PJ found himself once
again struggling with the rest of his teammates on defense, trying to blunt
the Hagerton attack.

Run followed run, hammering up the middle. Hagerton advanced slowly down
the field, crossed into Gordonsville territory, and kept coming on until
finally, Erik got into their backfield and threw the quarterback down for a
loss. It brought up a third-and-six on the Gordonsville
twenty-eight. Remembering how he'd almost been burned in the first quarter,
this time PJ was looking for a pass. He played off the receiver, hoping the
quarterback would be tempted to try one. Sure enough! There it was! He
closed quickly as the pass was thrown, leaped in front of the reaching
Hagerton boy, and snatched the ball away before the bigger player could
react. Tucking it under his arm, he flew up the field, seeing Erik alertly
throw a block for him out of the corner of his eye. The way in front was
barred by Hagerton uniforms, so he dashed off toward the sideline. He had
just reached it when two of the other team's players hit him in a
bone-jarring tackle that sent him tumbling out of bounds, stars exploding
in his eyes!

Someone helped him up. After shaking his head to clear it, he saw that he'd
managed to get the ball back to the opposing team's forty two. He'd also
landed in the middle of the Hagerton bench and been yankeded up by one of
their players. As he trotted away, he heard someone yell, "Get the fuck out
of here, you little preppy wimp."

On his own side, Erik, Brian, and Phil were waiting to offer
congratulations. "I had a feeling you were gonna try that," Erik said,
grinning.

"Thanks for your block," PJ told him gratefully.

PJ's good play, though, did nothing to inspire the offense, which seemed to
be slowly deteriorating under the punishment the Hagerton defense was
inflicting. To PJ, watching from the sideline, it seemed as if the
confidence was going out of his team like air escaping from a leaking
balloon. They quickly went three-and-out. Tommy's punt this time only went
twenty yards and was returned for fifteen. Once more the Gordonsville
defense found itself on the field, and unlike last time, they couldn't stop
the Hagerton onslaught. The opposing quarterback uncorked a few more
passes, keeping them on the side of the field away from PJ, and had just
enough success, along with the powerful running game, to get another
touchdown. The extra point try was another good one. Now Hagerton led 14-0.

Coach Lewis had been having a serious talk with Lester, so when
Gordonsville went out after the kickoff to start from their thirty-seven,
the offense seemed more lively. They managed two first downs, moving across
midfield. Then they tried a passing attack of their own. At first it was
successful. Lester completed two passes and engineered another first
down. "Here we go," PJ told Erik. But his roommate only grunted.

Erik's skepticism proved well-founded because inside the Hagerton twenty,
the attack stalled as the defense dug in. On third and six, Lester called
another pass play which was well set up. Looking to make a quick touchdown,
he sent two receivers into the end zone, keeping a third one just over the
line of scrimmage so if he had to, he could dump off for an easy completion
and first down. Moreover, the pass blocking was good, there was plenty of
time, and one of the deep receivers got wide open. Everything was working
perfectly! Then PJ heard Erik, who was standing right next to him, curse
under his breath, "No! Oh, fuck, NO!" Inexplicably, Lester had thrown to
the deep receiver who was covered, ignoring the other one who was in the
clear, frantically waving his arm! To make matters worse, the ball was
underthrown. A defensive back caught it easily and ran out of bounds
through the back of the end zone. Just like that, Hagerton had the ball on
its own twenty.

"Damn it! Son of a bitch!" PJ could hear his roommate swearing as he
followed him out onto the field. "We force a turnover," Erik told the rest
of the defense when they gathered at the line of scrimmage. "We get the
ball back and score some fucking points! We don't go in at the half with
nothing on the board!"

The Hagerton drive that followed was another long, grinding effort. In
their linebacker positions, Erik and Nate were taking the brunt of it. Over
and over they made tackles on the ball carrier or blitzed into the
offensive line trying to break up a play. PJ helped all he could, playing
up on his position as much as he dared and making a few key stops on
runners who broke through. When the relentless Hagerton advance was finally
stopped inside the Gordonsville fifteen, their field goal unit came on, and
this time they got the three points. The scoreboard changed again:
Gordonsville 0, Hagerton 17.

With time running out in the half, the Gordonsville offense tried valiantly
to get something going. They'd had a long rest during the last series of
plays and started strong with a few decent running plays. But the Hagerton
defense had been resting too, and didn't let up their hard tackling and
rough play. On one short pass attempt, PJ saw the Gordonsville receiver get
slammed as he tried to catch the ball. The pigskin went flying, the pass
fell incomplete, and the boy got up slowly. He went limping back to the
huddle where PJ saw him shaking his head, apparently lecturing
Lester. Despite the punishment they were taking from the big Hagerton
defensemen, the offense did move the ball over midfield as the clock ticked
off. Then, just after the two-minute warning to the benches, Lester and a
running back got their signals crossed. The handoff was fumbled. Hagerton
recovered.

On the sideline, Erik cursed for the upteenth time. He and PJ pulled on
their helmets and ran onto the field. "These guys do not get another score
in this half!" Erik told the defensive unit. "I don't care what you have to
do. We stop them!"

But this was easier said than done. The Hagerton offense, fired up by the
turnover and determined to put more points on the board, moved to the
attack. And the Gordonsville defense was tiring. They'd been on the field
virtually the entire half. Two big runs took the Hagerton team over
midfield. They hit a pass play for a quick first down and then ran
again. The closing seconds of the half found them once more inside the
Gordonsville twenty. PJ was sure they would try to pass, and so was
Eric. He and the defensive captain put them into a prevent formation. PJ
stayed back off the line of scrimmage, guarding his receiver. Almost too
late, he saw that instead of passing, the Hagerton quarterback had handed
off to a back who burst around and past Gordonsville defenders, running
down the sideline. Desperately, PJ angled over in a burst of speed, hurled
his wiry body at the big runner, and bulldogged him out of bounds at the
one-yard line. Time had expired during the play. The half ended.

PJ's breath had been knocked out of him when he and the ball carrier hit
the ground, the big, heavy Hagerton boy on top. He was struggling to his
feet Erik when arrived to help him up.

 As he gasped and tried to get air, his roommate patted him on his
back. "Nice going, PJ."

"Lucky . . . " It was all PJ could do to gasp out the words. He sucked in
more deep breaths. "Thought he would . . . pull me over . . . goal line
with him."

They walked slowly across the field toward the locker room, accompanied by
Brian and Phil. "We could beat these guys if we didn't keep turning the
ball over," Brian said in frustration.

"We can make 'em cough the ball up, too," Erik told him grimly. "We just
have to hit 'em hard enough. But we can't beat 'em if we keep makin' stupid
plays on offense."

"Your nose . . . is bleeding," PJ observed. Erik wiped his face with his
hand and looked at the blood on his fingers without saying anything
more. When they reached the locker room, Phil ran and got some wet paper
towels for him so he could clean himself off.

The mood in the locker room was somber. Everyone was tired. Some of the
players on the offense were pretty banged up. When Coach Lewis stood at the
front to talk to them, he looked serious. "We knew coming in that this team
plays a physical game, and you've all had a chance to experience it. They
don't do anything fancy. They just try to wear you down, and right now
they're succeeding. The way to beat this team is to get them off-balance;
force them to react faster than they want to. And we need to get some ball
control so we can give our defense a rest. We're going to try something a
little different in the third quarter to try and make that happen." Matt
Aubrey handed him a sheet of paper from the clipboard and the coach looked
over at where Erik and PJ were sitting next to Brian and Phil. "Erik, I
want you to go in as quarterback when we start the second half. And PJ, you
substitutes for Lyle as a receiver." After reading off more substitutions,
he told the first-string players, "You fellows take a break while we see
how things go. Let's see if we can't get this game turned around our way. I
know you can beat this team if you can just get some momentum."

PJ and Erik looked at each other. Erik's eyes flashed. Brian and Phil
crowded excitedly around them. "They have to kick off to us," Erik told PJ,
"so we'll have the ball right away. I'll call a few running plays to lull
them into thinking we're not changing anything. That will give you time to
check out their secondary. You tell me what pattern you want to use and
then we'll go for a long one, okay?"

PJ nodded and put out his fist. "Together!" Erik touched it with his own.

"Together," Brian and Phil chorused as they added their fists to his.

Across the room PJ saw Lester and some of his friends scowling at
them. They did not appear happy. But nearby, Jacob, Nolan, and a few others
were grimly smiling. Lyle, the right-side wide receiver PJ was substituting
for, came over to him, leaned down, and whispered, "Watch yourself out
there. Those Hagerton guys are really hitting!"

* * *

The second half of the game opened with Gordonsville running the kickoff
back to their own thirty-one. Erik led the offensive unit onto the field,
and, as he had promised, called two running plays. PJ sized up the
defensive backs and safety men. They were good. The two backs in particular
were both older boys, bigger than PJ, and they looked rangy and fast. It
wasn't going to be easy to get open. But he was helped by the fact that
they had become accustomed to Gordonsville not passing very often. With
luck, he could burn them at least once before they caught on to the changes
in the offensive strategy. He reported this to Erik in the huddle. "I'll do
a post," he said. Then he looked at the other receiver, one of the
thirteen-year-old first-stringers. "We'll double to my side and
crossover. You go down the sideline and hook back. That'll make the corner
commit. One of us will get open."

The older boy shook his head. "No way! Those guys are too fast and too
big. I almost got killed last time we passed. I'm not doing it again."

Erik stared at him. "Fuck this," he said. He immediately signaled for a
timeout and trotted to the sideline where he had a short talk with Coach
Lewis. When he came back, Brian was following him, pulling on his
helmet. Erik pointed at the original receiver. "Get your ass off the
field. You've been substituted for." The boy gave Erik a furious look and
trudged reluctantly to the sideline. PJ saw Coach Lewis beckon him over for
a "discussion."

Brian took his place in the huddle. Erik looked at him and said, "I just
kicked one asshole pussy off the field! Are you afraid to catch a pass
against these guys?"

"Fuck, no! Throw me the ball," Brian told him. This netted a grin from
Nolan. Jacob was standing right next to him. The two thirteen-year-olds
smacked shoulders.

Erik stared coldly around the huddle. "Anyone else here wanna sit the rest
of this game out? Let's hear it right now!"

No one said a word. Erik turned to PJ. "Okay, tell Brian what he's supposed
to do."

PJ explained the pattern again and Brian nodded. Erik made one more sweep
of the huddle with his gaze, meeting each boy's eyes for a moment. Then he
barked out, "Red-River-Two, Texas-Gold-61, Texas-Gold-61, on Two. Break!"

They clapped and crisply broke huddle. Erik strode confidently up to the
line, surveyed the defense, and bent over Cuyler, the center. "Hu-u-u-ut,
Hut, Hut!" he cried. When Cuyler snapped the ball, Erik faded back and
rolled right.

The defense, already confused and wary because of the sudden timeout and
Brian's appearance in the game, wasn't sure what was happening. PJ and
Brian crossed going into their patterns, and the defensive back on Brian's
side kept his eye on him. PJ accelerated into the flat and looked over his
shoulder. Anticipating his move, Erik already had the ball in the air. PJ
lengthened his stride and just managed to get to it, catching it with his
arms fully extended. As he pulled it in, he saw the safety converging on
him. He cut, slipped a tackle by spinning out of the clutching arms, and
sprinted down the field. Behind him, he heard the footsteps of someone
right on his tail, so he extended his stride as far as he could and
strained to go even faster. Hands clutched desperately for his feet, but it
was too late. He dove over the goal line, tumbling like an acrobat.  Then
he was popping immediately back to his feet, holding the ball up over his
head in triumph! He grabbed for that Bhatt Chain around his neck. "For you,
Erik," he whispered.

Erik and Brian came running to congratulate him. They pounded his shoulder
pads, and Erik gave him a big grin. "Sorry about that pass, PJ," he
said. "I had to rush it a little and I wasn't exactly sure where to put
it."

"It got there," PJ told him. "That's all that counts."

"You should have seen the fake Brian put on that back," Erik laughed. "The
guy was so sure Brian was going to get the ball he almost tackled him."

"Thanks Brian." PJ held out a palm and the younger boy slapped it, smiling
proudly.

On the sidelines, when Phil ran up to offer congratulations, Erik took him
to one side for some quarterback strategy talk. PJ watched as Tommy got the
extra point. He looked around and saw Bill waving in the stands. PJ grinned
and waved back, giving Bill a high sign. The score was a more respectable
7-17!

Then he returned his attention to the field, watching the kickoff. Hagerton
ran it back almost to the forty. PJ looked around again. Coach Lewis hadn't
said anything about not playing defense. PJ tapped Erik on the shoulder and
ran out onto the field pulling on his helmet.

PJ's impression of the rest of the third quarter was of a
slugfest. Although it wasn't easy, the Gordonsville defense, re-energized
by the touchdown, stopped the Hagerton offense after only two first
downs. Then Erik, after the punt, led their own offensive unit on a long
drive. PJ caught no more easy passes. After his touchdown catch, the
defensive secondary took him seriously, and both he and Brian were pretty
well-covered. But Erik still had a tight end to throw to, as well as a good
running game to resort to. The Hagerton defense was stretched now, and
their backs couldn't be everywhere. Both PJ and Brian were still able to
catch a few of Erik's passes for good yardage.

On every completion, of course, the Hagerton defense made them pay with
solid tackles. PJ was banged up more than once. But they continued to gain
steadily and eventually got down inside the Hagerton ten. That's when Erik
called a run from the pro set formation. He handed off to Sandy and faked
rolling out to the opposite side, pretending to look for PJ. The defense
bit on it as Sandy followed Jacob, his lead blocker, into the end zone. The
usually reliable Tommy missed his extra point attempt, but the score was
now 13-17!

On the sideline after the touchdown, Coach Lewis called the entire
offensive unit over to him. Singling out Erik, Sandy, Garry, and Jacob in
particular, he called their drive one of the grittiest he'd seen in all his
days of coaching. The boys beamed with pride.

But the quarter was not over, and Hagerton proved that its offense could
still score too. They made a good runback on a punt, started a series on
the Gordonsville forty-six, and finally hammered their way into the goal
despite several good defensive plays by Erik and a near interception by
PJ. At the end of the quarter, the score was 13-24.

When the fourth quarter began, Coach Lewis substituted for both Erik and PJ
on defense. "You're staying in is quarterback for the rest of the game,
Erik," he said. "And PJ, I want you to stay at wide receiver." He didn't
explain why he was not putting Lester back in the game, but PJ was sure he
knew the answer. He and Erik sat down on the bench to take a breather and
watched the defense go to work out on the field.

"Do you still feel like we're going to win this game, PJ?" Erik asked.

"Yeah, I do! In fact, I know it!" PJ told him.

Replied Erik, "Well, ya' finally got me convinced!

Chapter Sixty-Six: Never Say Die!

Out on the field, the Hagerton offense kept grinding out yardage as their
crowd of fans cheered them on. They pushed across midfield, then down over
the forty and the thirty. Erik jumped off the bench in frustration. "I'm
gonna ask Coach to let me go back in on defense. We can't let them score
any more!"

PJ pulled him back down. "Wait!" The defensive unit had finally stiffened
up. The Hagerton ball carrier was tackled for a loss and the field-goal
unit came on. The kick attempt wobbled just wide of the uprights.

Erik breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's do it again, PJ!" he said as he put
on his helmet.

The drive that followed was a long, hard-fought battle. PJ and Brian
scrambled in the secondary, cutting and faking to get open. As the Hagerton
defensive backs struggled to cover them, PJ could see that they were
starting to tire. PJ knew his own endurance would be an advantage, and
deliberately began running longer routes to force his man to stay with
him. Whenever the defender started to lag, PJ would tell Erik so they could
work another pass play for good yardage. But the other team's defense would
know how to adjust. PJ was often double-teamed, forcing Erik to instead
throw quick passes to Brian, who wasn't as tall or as fast. It was
touch-and-go on each series of downs.

Inside the Hagerton thirty, it seemed that the defense had them stopped. An
incomplete pass to Brian left them with a third-and-eight. Erik called for
another pass, took the snap, and rolled out to his left. But he tucked the
ball under his arm because he'd never even intended to throw the ball. He
straight-armed the defensive end who tried to come in on him and danced
around another would-be tackler for ten yards and a first down. When he
came back to the huddle, his nose was bleeding again, but he was grinning
broadly and told his teammates, "That gave 'em something to think about!"

A Garry run and a short pass to Brian got them a first and goal inside the
ten. Brian got up slowly after he was tackled. PJ gave him a hand and
asked, "Okay?"

Brian grinned. "Yeah. These guys can hit.  But I'm wearin' 'em down."

"Me, too!" PJ laughed.

In the huddle, Erik glanced at PJ and called for a rollout pass with both
receivers stacked to the right. On the snap, PJ and Brian both accelerated
into the end zone--and cut in opposite directions! Erik's rollout froze the
defenders because they looked for him to run. PJ found himself a step ahead
of his coverage. Now, Erik! he thought. He put his hands out and Erik
rifled the ball straight to him. Clutching it to his chest, PJ tumbled to
the ground as a Hagerton player tackled him. But his feet had stayed in
bounds. The officials raised their arms to signal the touchdown! Erik and
Brian both jumped on PJ to celebrate. This time, Tommy's extra-point try
was good. The score was 20-24, with five minutes still left in the game!

"You can do it, guys!" Erik told the defense as they went onto the field
after Gordonsville's kickoff.. "Just get that ball for us one more time!"

But the other team was determined not to let that happen. They knew that if
they could maintain possession, the game was theirs. They ran Kip's kickoff
back to the thirty-three and began to grind out the yardage with their
running game. With Phil next to him, Erik paced up and down the sideline
like a caged tiger, talking and gesturing with his hands. The Hagerton
offense made a first down. The clock kept running. At one point, Erik went
and said something to his coach, but the young man shook his head. Erik
went back to pacing, with Phil sticking right by him.

"It's gonna be up to us," PJ told Brian quietly. "One of us is gonna have
to get open." Brian solemnly nodded.

The Gordonsville defense set its heels and hung on. Twice they stopped the
Hagerton ball carrier for only a short gain. The clock continued to run
down. There was a pause for the two-minute warning.

"Watch the pass!" PJ yelled out as the teams lined up for the
third-and-long. The opposing quarterback took the snap . . . faded back
. . .  PJ's heart almost stopped when he saw that one of the receivers was
loose in the flat.

But Gordonsville got a break. The pass was just a little overthrown. When
the ball tipped off the hands of the receiver and fell on the ground, PJ
drew a sigh of relief. Erik and Phil came striding over. "Okay, here we
go!" Erik said.

The Hagerton punt was a wobbler. It bounced off the chest of Sandy who was
back as a receiver. He immediately fell on it, smothering the ball with his
body before getting jumped upon by a Hagerton player. Erik led the offense
out to start deep in their own territory with less than two minutes to go
and only two timeouts left.

Gordonsville now faced a prevent defense. Erik started his two-minute
drill. He'd used up his timeouts by the time they reached midfield. He was
now using everything in the playbook, mixing his runs with short
passes. The defense was hitting back with everything it had. PJ caught a
short pass over the middle and barely had time to get hold of the ball
before he felt a tremendous blow. He blacked out for a second, and came to
on the ground barely conscious but still holding onto the ball. He got up
slowly and tried not to weave going back to the huddle. He didn't want
Coach Lewis to pull him out of the game. Nolan gave him a steadying hand
for a moment while on his other side, Jacob held his elbow.

"Okay?" Erik asked, peering at him closely.

PJ nodded, but he was still lightheaded on the next play and barely got
through it. He lost track of where they were on the field and focused
everything on executing his assignment. Just as he had so often in the
grueling hours of swimming practice, he used his competitive drive and
great endurance to force himself to grind on. When he saw his roommate
scramble, he vaguely realized they'd made another first down, but the fact
held little significance for him. Only the next play mattered. It was a
sideline pass. To him! Even though the football was a blur, PJ managed to
catch it and took another terrific hit as two defenders threw him out of
bounds. He was groggy as he got up and limped to the huddle. There was pain
in his ribs and his right hip. Dimly, he realized that Erik was saying
something to him about the clock. As his head started to clear, he
distinctly heard Erik say, "It has to be now, PJ."

He met his friend's eyes and said, "Just get the ball to me."

As he lined up in his wide-receiver position, it finally dawned on him that
this was the last play of the game. From deep within he summoned his last
reserves. Eyed the older boy defending him, he reminded himself, I can take
him. And then the ball was snapped.

PJ shot off the line, accelerating swiftly, grating his teeth to ignore the
pain in his hip. He angled first for the sideline and then faked, cutting
down the field a few steps ahead of the obviously tired defender. He took a
quick look. The pass was coming! Erik hadn't waited to see if he would get
open but had thrown it believing that he would. So deft was the throw, the
ball seemed to drift into PJ's grasp. He saw the safeties angling in, but
nothing, nothing was going to stop him. He was like a machine sprinting for
the end zone. He heard the crowd roaring and cut past the last tackler,
leaving the boy tumbling to the ground behind him. With a rush of
exhilaration, he held the football up in his hand as he crossed the goal
line!

Almost immediately, he slowed and then staggered as he went to one knee to
keep from falling. His legs were shaking. There was pain in his side. He
gasped--but not out of pain. The realization of what he'd just done had
just hit him. "For you, Jack. That was for you!" I didn't forget what you
said. Never say die! Anything's possible! We won today, an' so will you
tonight! You're gonna take the Red Sox all the way!

His teammates mobbed around him before he could get up. Nolan helped him to
stand. Erik gave him an arm to lean on as he hobbled off the field. Matthew
was there, waving the clipboard, face as red as his hair, flushed with
excitement as he yelled something about passing yards. They watched Tommy
try for the extra point. Though the point would be meaningless, his kick
was good again, and everyone cheered. They had won the game with a final
score of 27-24!

After getting the congratulations of his friends and Coach Lewis, PJ limped
across the field to shake hands with the other team. They did it with
grudging respect.

"Where were you guys in the first half?" one boy asked, looking at Erik
who'd followed PJ over.

"Playing defense," Erik told him.

"That one little kid that came in to play receiver sure has guts," another
remarked.

PJ nodded in agreement. "He's right over there," he said, pointing to where
Brian was standing with Phil next to him. "He's a good kid. It would
probably be nice for him if you'd tell him that yourself."

"I will," said the boy, and he walked over.

A few more Hagerton players came to shake hands. After that, the four
Gordonsville boys walked slowly to the locker room. PJ was still limping.

After he had gotten undressed, Coach Lewis came over to him. Without saying
anything, he picked PJ up and carried him to a table on the side of the
room and made him lie down on it. Then he carefully felt the boy's side and
hip. "I guess it's just bruises," the young coach said. "I hope so,
anyway. This was bothering you all through those last plays, wasn't it."

PJ looked down uncomfortably and didn't say anything.

"I should have taken you out of the game right then and there, and next
time I will if you don't talk to me," the coach continued, trying to sound
stern.

PJ forced himself to meet Coach Lewis' eyes and said, meekly, "it wasn't
hurting that much, Coach. I knew I could still play."

"That's not a decision you're qualified to make, PJ," Coach Lewis told
him. "One of my jobs is to see to it that you don't get injured. I can't do
that if you don't trust me and tell me when you're hurting. You say
something, okay?"

PJ nodded.

The coach looked at him with pride now in his eyes. "Come on, kid, you know
I'm on your side. You know I'd never take you out unless I had to. I just
don't want you hurt, that's all. For one thing, I need you for the rest of
the games." He grinned at PJ. "And for another, the swim coach would kill
me. And for another . . ."--he patted PJ's shoulder--". . . for another, I
sort of like you a lot. So let me do my job, okay? I'm your coach. Talk to
me. And don't keep it a secret if something's hurting you. Trust me to make
the right decision. Okay?"

PJ smiled at him. "I will, Coach. I promise."

"Thanks," Coach Lewis said. "Now take a shower and get some hot water on
that hip, and we'll see how it goes. If it's still bothering you tomorrow,
I'll get you some time in the whirlpool. Oh, and PJ. . ."--Coach Lewis
patted him again--". . . in case I haven't told you already, nice game!"

PJ grinned. He climbed off the table gingerly, got a towel, and hobbled
into the shower.

Bill was waiting for all of them out by the bus, smiling and waving when he
caught sight of them.  But his expression changed to one of concern when he
saw that PJ was lame. "What's wrong, PJ?" he said, going quickly to
him. "You were limping after the game, too, weren't you. Erik, where's your
coach? Does he know about this? Go find him and tell him to come here."

"It's okay, Bill," PJ assured him quickly. "Coach Lewis knows. He already
checked me. He says it's probably just a bruise. He's going to check again
tomorrow. I'll be okay."

Bill didn't look satisfied, but he reluctantly replied, "All right. But I
want you and Erik to call me on Saturday and I want to hear how you're
doing, okay?"

"Okay," both boys said.

"You played a terrific game," Bill said, proudly looking at the four of
them. "Phil, I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to go in. I was hoping to
see you play, too."

"That's okay," said the young boy. "I'll play in the scrimmage game on
Saturday."

"Phil's gonna get his chance before this season's over," PJ said. He put
his arm around his little friend's shoulders.

"I'm sure he will," Bill said. "As for the rest of you . . . well . . . I
don't know what to say. You were just terrific. All of you. I thought that
game was going to get away from you, just like that first one. And then the
way you came back in the second half . . . it was just . . ."

"It was Erik who did it," PJ said, looking up at Bill. "If it wasn't for
him we would'na won."

"Come on, PJ," Erik said, turning red. "You made the touchdowns and caught
my lousy passes. You and Brian. Without you . . ."

"Geez, Erik!" Brian said. "An' you're always telling Phil not to be
modest." He looked up at Bill. "Erik is the best. He made us believe we
could win, and then he went out and did it. He won the game!"

"I think you were all great," Bill said. "Your whole team. Every one of
you."

"That's right," Erik told them. "It's teamwork that did it. It's like Jack
said about the Red Sox. No one person wins or loses the game. It takes a
team effort to win, and we did it today!"

"And we're gonna do it again next week, too!" PJ exclaimed.

"That's right, you guys play Fieldstone next week, don't you," Bill
said. "They're your big rivals."

"And the defending champs from last year," PJ said.

"That's going to be a big game," Bill said thoughtfully. "You know, it's a
shame that more people aren't coming out to see your games. I can't do much
about that, but I can do something helpful. Phil, Brian: what are your
dads' phone numbers? I'm going to call them." He got a notepad out of his
pocket and jotted down the telephone numbers the boys gave him.

"I can't promise anything," Bill said, "but I'll try to get some kind of
cheering section for your next game. That way you won't have to listen to
just me all the time."

"We don't mind hearing you, Bill," PJ told him with a smile.

"Fieldstone's a home game, so Billy and his dad will be there cheering,"
Erik said.

"That's right!" Bill said. "PJ, what's their number?" He got his notebook
back out and wrote down the one PJ gave him. "PJ, are you sure you don't
want me to call Jack?" he asked.

PJ shook his head firmly. "I'll be e-mailing him tonight."

"Okay," Bill said. "By the way, I hope he wins tonight."

"He will," PJ said with confidence. "I know he will."

"I better let you fellows get on the bus," Bill said. "Boys, you're coach
must be very pleased with you and I know if your dads were here they'd be
more proud of you than. . ."  He shook his head helplessly. He reached down
and gave first Phil and then Brian a quick hug. He picked up Eric and held
him tightly. When he whispered something to him, Erik threw his arms around
him and hugged back. After he had put his son down, he picked up PJ. "Man,
you and Erik are getting big," he said smiling. "I won't be able to do this
in another year! PJ, I just wish Jack could have been here to see you. I
know he would have been thrilled. He cares about you so much. I know he
does because he told me. When you write him, you tell him I said hello. And
you and Erik call me on Saturday! If that sore hip of yours isn't better
then, I want to know about it. Or else I'll call Jack whether you want me
to or not! Now, you are not hobbling onto that bus by yourself. I'll carry
you. Erik, where do you guys want to sit?"

Erik led the way onto the bus and down the aisle to their usual spot. Bill
deposited PJ into a seat and made sure he was comfortable. "All right, you
guys. I'll see you next week!" He gave Erik a final nudge on his arm, waved
goodbye, and left.

Erik sat down next to PJ, and Phil and Brian took the seats right behind.

"I think Bill was kind of proud of us today," Erik said happily.

"No duh, Erik," PJ told him, smiling. "You were sorta good today. You know,
having Bill here is almost just like having Jack come. They're a lot alike
in some ways."

Erik laughed. "How do you figure that, PJ? I don't think Bill was ever that
good in sports."

PJ shrugged. "It's not that. It's that they both have a way of making you
feel good." He paused and then said, "You know what I've been thinking
about?"

"What?" his roommate asked curiously.

"About what Jack told us that one time," PJ told him. At the repeated
mention of Jack's name, Brian and Phil had leaned over the seats to
listen. "He told it to us that first time," PJ continued. "Almost a year
ago, remember? He said anyone can win when they're ahead, but only great
champions can come from behind." He looked at Erik very seriously and said,
"You're one of those, Erik. You're one of those great champions he was
talking about."

Erik regarded him for a moment with gratitude and warmth. "Thanks, PJ," he
said quietly. He looked back at Brian and Phil and said, "Jack was talking
about PJ when he said that." He thought for a little longer and then said,
"I think we're all champions, every one of us today. I just want the chance
to keep proving it."

"I bet we're gonna get that chance," PJ answered.

They got back that evening barely in time for dinner. Afterwards, PJ
hurried to his computer to write a quick note to Jack before going down to
see the beginning of his game on TV. He briefly described his own game and
gave the final score, attributing all the credit for their comeback to
Erik.

"I got a couple of touchdowns," he typed. "I also got hurt near the end,
but the coach says it's probly just a bad bruise.  I wish you could have
seen the last score I made. Erik threw a nice pass and I caught it and made
a good run. I was thinking of you and your game tonight.  I know this won't
get to you in time for you to read it before the game, but I know your
going to win it Jack.  I am sure of it. Good luck.  I will be watching and
cheering for you.  Love PJ."

He ran his Spell Check, which caught a couple of silly errors (oh, why
hadn't he paid more attention to Mr. Bingham's lectures on grammar and
spelling!), and fired the message off.

Game three of the Red-Sox-Mariners series was on the West Coast, so the
action didn't start until after nine o'clock. Plenty of boys crowded into
the Common Room to watch it on TV, and PJ and Erik were lucky to get
seats. Erik, exhausted by an afternoon of football, began to nod in the
first inning. PJ, despite the tense excitement of his team's battle to
avoid elimination, might have succumbed to fatigue for the same reason, but
the throbbing pain in his leg kept him awake. He and the other Sox fans saw
Seattle take a one-run lead into the fourth inning--when at 10.30,
Mr. Williamson came in, turned off the TV, and ordered them all upstairs to
bed!

There were multiple cries of protest, accompanied by pleas for "Just a
half-hour more?"

"School night," the housemaster reminded them. "I've already given you an
extra half-hour. Up to bed. All of you!"

PJ wasn't complaining, though. He knew he could hear the rest of the game
on his pocket radio. In fact, in some ways he preferred listening to games
that way, especially at night, because it somehow made it more exciting
when he had to imagine what he couldn't see!

He was careful to conceal his limp while he painfully climbed the stairs
behind Erik because he didn't want Mr. Williamson fussing over him, or
worse, decreeing that he couldn't play football. In their room, once they'd
undressed and slipped into bed under their covers, Erik fell right
asleep. But PJ, uncomfortable because of the throbbing in his hip, remained
awake. He tuned in his radio to the game. It was now the bottom of the
fifth inning. Seattle was at bat, still in the lead by one run and
threatening to score even more because they had men on first and second,
even though there were two outs. The familiar voice of the Red-Sox
play-by-play announcer came through PJ's ear buds:

	"Here's the pitch . . . Ball down and in . . . Count's full, three
and two . . ."

In the background, PJ heard a chant going: "Let's go Red Sox!" Clap, clap
. . . clap-clap-clap! Red Sox fans! he thought delightedly. They're
everywhere! Even in the Mariner's home stadium, no less, Boston fans were
making themselves heard!

The play-by-play continued:

	". . . He checks the runners . . . The pitch . . ."

"Crack! PJ could hear the sound of a wooden bat hitting a ball! The crowd
roared!

	". . . A blistering grounder! Through the right side!"

Noise almost drowned out the announcer's voice. PJ tensed. But now the
voice rose to a scream!:

	"Canon's charging in! He scoops the ball! Runner's around third
. . .! He's gonna score . . ."

Another huge roar from the crowd!

	"NO!"

The announcer was yelling hysterically!:

	"He's OUT! Runner's OUT! A laser! Canon fired a laser to the plate!
Kelly puts on the tag! Oh, what a play!"

Now, the broadcaster's voice retuned to a more normal level.

	"Three outs. Inning over. At the end of five, Seattle still leads
by one . . ."

Like the announcer, PJ gradually relaxed, only one thought filling his
mind: You're gonna win, Jack. I know it. While the radio played a
commercial, he tried shifting position to ease the weight on his hip, but
the throbbing stayed the same. He gritted his teeth.

"Let's go Red Sox!" The fans were chanting again as Boston came to bat in
the sixth inning. The lead-off hitter made it to first on a single. The
next hitter grounded out, but moved the runner to second. In the
background, behind the announcer's voice, PJ heard the fans start a new
chant: "Jack . . . Jack . . . Jack!"

A thrill shivered through him. Jack was up! Suddenly, without understanding
it, PJ knew with absolute certainty what was going to happen. Hardly daring
to breathe, he listened to the play-by-play:

	"Canon takes his stance . . . Here's the pitch
. . . Outside. It's--no! It's being called a strike! Canon steps out. He's
not happy with that one, folks. But he says nothing. He never does. He
re-tightens his batting gloves. Now he's back in . . . The catcher is
setting up outside. They're gonna be careful pitching to him . . ."

"Jack! Jack! Jack!" The chanting was louder, and the Seattle fans were
responding with yelling of their own.

Now, thought PJ, clenching a fist. Now Jack!

	Almost lost in the din came the announcer's voice: ". . . into the
stretch . . . He delivers . . .!"

THAWAKA! PJ heard the sound clearly above all the crowd noise. It was the
incredible sound of power he'd heard so often standing next to the batting
cage at Fenway when Jack was hitting. A huge roar exploded in his ear buds!
The announcer was screaming,

	". . . GONE! It's GONE! A tremendous shot! The outfielders are just
looking up! Oh, my! A two-run blast from The Canon! It's into the
left-field upper deck! Jack tosses his bat. That special way he does it,
twirling it upside down. He's jogging around the bases. The Red Sox dugout
empties to greet him at the plate . . . Sox take a one-run lead!"

"Knew it!" PJ exclaimed out loud, his heart thumping. He checked to make
sure he hadn't awakened Erik. I knew it! I knew it! You're gonna win,
Jack. You're gonna win! At the moment, the crow's frenzied cheering in his
ears, PJ wanted to believe that Jack had read his e-mail right before the
game. An' then he hit that home run just for me! With all his heart he so
wanted to believe that. . . .

Take them all the way, Jack, he silently mouthed to the darkness. If Jack's
with me, I don't ever gotta be scared again of the dark.

"I'm here, Little Champ. I'm right with you."

The words in his head seemed so real. PJ turned to look, expecting to see
Jack leaning over him. Oh, how he wished it were real! Very quietly so as
not to disturb Erik, he slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the room to
open the closet door so he could see Jack's poster. Then he slipped back
under the covers and lay there, looking at it in the dim glow of his
nightlight, listening to his radio. Seattle failed to score any more
runs. His eyes closed for awhile, but he came awake enough at game's end to
hear the broadcaster confirm a Red Sox victory. After turning the radio
off, he stared up at the ceiling and imagined the cracks in the plaster had
gone away. His hip throbbed, yet somehow he didn't care.

Under the covers, he touched his neck chains, taking hold of the Bhatt
links and Billy's St. Christopher's medal. "Never say die," he whispered to
himself. The Sox were still alive, Jack had had a great game, the
Gordonsville Middle School football team had won--and by gosh, he'd had a
darn good game that day himself!

* * *

CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT THIRTY-FIVE

  Editor Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmail.com

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