Authors: Eric Howling
Gang Tackle (10 page)
“I thought we’d be winning,” Jamal said, shaking his head. “That all we had to do was wear our new uniforms. I thought that would be enough. But they only make us
look
better, not
play
better.”
Coach Kemp nodded at the team and said, “Do uniforms make you run faster?”
“No, Coach,” the players said together.
“Do uniforms make you tackle harder?”
“No, Coach.”
“What can new uniforms do then?
“Make us proud, Coach.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Coach Kemp said. “And can pride make you run faster and tackle harder?”
“You know it can, Coach.”
“Then let’s play the second half like we know the blue and gold can!”
“Yes, Coach!”
Coach was right, thought Jamal. The team had spent weeks thinking that their ticket to winning was inside a box of new uniforms. But the truth was that it was inside them all along.
The Saints were pumped. So were the Knights. The play seesawed back and forth, with the two teams giving everything they had. Muscles flexed. Adrenaline flowed. Bruising tackles were made. At the end of the third quarter, the blue and gold finally
broke through. Darnell led the Saints offense into Knights territory. He threaded the needle to Jamal with a buttonhook pass. Then he handed off the pigskin to Rico on a draw up the middle. The two plays gained over thirty yards.
The Saints were on the move. Now they were on the Knights twenty-yard line. In the red zone. On first down, Darnell scrambled back into the pocket and fired a rope to Jamal, who was streaking for the end zone. He leaped high and grabbed the ball while diving across the goal line. Touchdown! High fives! The game was tied 14–14.
The Knights came roaring back in the fourth quarter. With only five minutes left in the game, their star quarterback drove into Saints territory again. He was throwing on almost every play. His arm was like a rifle. Every pass a silver bullet. Square out to his wide receiver for ten yards. Slant to his tight end for fifteen. Despite some crunching tackles by Carlos and the rest of the defense, the Saints couldn’t stop the drive. They couldn’t get to the quarterback.
After watching three straight first downs, Coach Kemp had seen enough.
“Time-out!”
The referee blew his whistle. Carlos sprinted to the sideline. Coach waved over Jamal to join them.
“We need a quarterback sack,” Carlos said, gasping for breath. “But no one can get to him.”
Jamal locked eyes with Carlos. “How did we sack Coach Fort?”
“It took all twelve guys on the field. It took a gang tackle.”
“Then that’s what it’s going to take,” Jamal said.
Coach Kemp nodded. “Full team blitz on the next play.”
“You got it,” Carlos said, running back to the huddle.
Jamal stood with Coach and watched the next play unfold.
The Saints lined up helmet to helmet across from the Knights. Carlos crept closer to the line of scrimmage as the quarterback called his signals. So did his safety,
cornerback and linebacker teammates. Soon all twelve Saints were on the line—all ready to charge. The moment the ball was snapped, a blur of blue and gold rushed the quarterback. The Knights offensive line was overwhelmed. They couldn’t hold back the Saints any longer. The dam had burst.
Carlos broke through the blocks and had the quarterback in his sights. He tried to scramble away, but Carlos tracked him down. First he grabbed him by the legs. Then a second, a third and a fourth Saint piled on, bringing him crashing to the ground. There was no escape. The Knights quarterback had been gang-tackled ten yards behind the line.
“Sack attack!” Jamal shouted from the sideline.
Coach Kemp cupped his hands around his mouth. “One more!”
The Saints defense stuffed the next play as well. A pass over the middle only gained five yards. It was third down, and the Knights’ drive was grounded. Silver would have to punt.
The clock ticked down. There was under a minute, enough time for two plays. The Saints ran the kick back to midfield, and Darnell called a pitch to Rico on the right side. The speedy halfback tucked the ball in the crook of his arm and raced to the far sideline. He ran out of bounds after picking up twenty yards. The ball was at the Knights thirty-five. One play left. A touchdown would win it.
Darnell took the snap from Billy. He stepped back into the pocket, and Jamal bolted from the line. He dashed straight at the Knights safety. He faked right, then cut to the outside and sprinted for the flag in the corner of the end zone. Now it was a race. Jamal flew across the turf like a jet. The Knights defender tried to keep up but couldn’t. Jamal was in the clear. Darnell pulled his arm back like a bow and threw. The ball shot through the sky like an arrow and Jamal reached out his arms. The brown leather hit his hands. He squeezed the ball tight, then tumbled to the turf in the end zone.
The music was cranked. The locker room thumped. The players shouted, hollered and cheered. Jamal had never pounded so many fists. His cheeks were getting sore from the big grin he couldn’t wipe off his face. The Saints had done it. Final score 21–14. The blue and gold were in the playoffs.
“Sweet catch, bro,” Darnell said from the locker next to Jamal’s. “You’ve got the best hands in the league.”
“You got me the ball.” Jamal nodded at the big quarterback.
“And since I snapped the ball,” Billy joked, “you can thank me.”
Jamal high-fived the stocky center.
“I never could have made that grab,” Malik said, dropping his helmet by mistake. “See what I mean?”
Carlos held up one of his taped fingers. “We’re going all the way this year, dude.”
“Yeah, all the way to the nearest Taco Bell,” Rico kidded. “I’ve seen you eat, man.”
Jamal spied Coach Kemp snaking through the crowd toward him. There was so much noise, he leaned in to speak. “There’s someone here to see you. A man from the University of Toronto. He’s waiting outside.”
“Who do you think it is, Coach?”
“Could be a scout from their football team. He might want to offer you a scholarship for next year. This could be your big chance, Jamal.” Coach Kemp smiled and patted him on the back.
Jamal zigzagged through the players to the front of the locker room. He opened
the door and saw a man waiting in the hall. Jamal didn’t think he looked much like a football scout. He was short and skinny and wore thick-rimmed glasses. Instead of wearing a suit he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “Jamal Wilson?”
“That’s me.”
“I’m John Flynn from the University of Toronto.”
Coach was right! Mr. Flynn must have been impressed by my touchdown catch
. “So you’re from the football team?”
The man laughed. “No, I don’t know much about football.”
Jamal’s face fell. He was hoping for a football scholarship. He couldn’t afford to go to university next year without one. He wondered who the man was.
“I’m from the department of computer science.”
“Uh-huh. So why are you here to see me?”
“We saw the story on
TV
about
Sack the Coach
. It’s not every day a high school student comes out with a hit computer game.”
“Thanks.” Jamal nodded, still not knowing why the man wanted to talk to him.
“We’re very impressed and want to offer you a scholarship.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, we’re very serious. It would be a real pleasure to have such an outstanding student join our computer science department.” Mr. Flynn offered his hand. “Do you think you might be interested?”
Jamal thought back to Coach Fort. How he didn’t think Jamal or any of his teammates would make it out of Southside. How they would all end up in a gang or in jail or dead. Now he could prove him wrong.
Jamal smiled and reached out. Not just to shake hands, but for something even better. His future.
Eric Howling is an advertising creative director and author of the sports novels
Head Hunter
,
Red Zone Rivals, Hoop Magic, Kayak Combat
and
Drive
. His books have been shortlisted for the Hackmatack Children’s Choice Book Award, named on
Resource Links
Year’s Best and picked as Canadian Children’s Book Centre Best Books selections. Eric lives and plays sports in Calgary, Alberta. For more information, visit
www.erichowlingbooks.com
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