Authors: Eric Howling
“I sure do. Let’s get started.” Mr. Malone held out his microphone to Jamal. “So why did you create the game?”
“Pretty simple reason. We needed a way to make some money. And fast.”
“Because Coach Fort took back all the equipment he donated?”
“You got it. Jerseys, pads, helmets, balls—everything. Twenty grand’s worth.”
“Ouch,” the reporter said. “That doesn’t sound like a very saintly thing to do.”
“Now we have to play in our old gear,” Darnell said. “We look like a bunch of losers.”
“It’s embarrassing, man,” Rico said. “We get no respect in the games.”
“Is that what happened in your last game against Don Mills?”
“Yeah, things got a little ugly,” Jamal said.
“We need new unis real bad,” Carlos said. “The Saints are a proud team. We want to look it too.”
Mr. Malone nodded. “Who came up with the idea for the game?”
“That’s an easy one,” Carlos said. “It was our man Jamal.”
“He’s a computer geek.” Darnell slapped him on the back.
“If making a cool football game for your phone is being a geek,” Jamal said with a grin, “then I guess I’m a geek.”
“That’s impressive,” the reporter said. “Especially since Coach Fort said you were all going to end up in jail. That none of you players could do anything but play football.”
“He was totally offside with that call,” Jamal said, his dark eyes staring directly into the camera. He hoped Coach Fort would be watching. “We’re all going to make something of ourselves. Carlos wants to open his own Mexican restaurant. He cooks a mean chicken taco. Darnell wants to be a social worker and help kids in
the neighborhood. And Rico is the funniest guy I know. Maybe he’ll be a stand-up comedian one day.” The camera zoomed in on each boy as Jamal talked about him.
“So who came up with the name?” Mr. Malone asked. “
Sack the Coach
—it’s catchy. And it really stands out from all the other football games out there.”
Jamal looked at Darnell, who looked at Rico, who looked at Carlos, who looked back at Jamal. “It was a team effort.”
“And how’s the game doing? Are football fans downloading it? Is your bank account growing? Have you made the twenty thousand you need yet?”
Jamal hesitated. “Well, the game just came out a few days ago. People don’t know about it yet. We don’t have a big advertising budget like
EA
Sports. So we haven’t really made any money.”
“This story should help get the word out,” Mr. Malone said. “A lot of people watch
TSC
. And not just in Toronto. We have a huge audience right across the country.
Online as well. When we broadcast this interview, football fans will find out about the game soon enough.”
“How soon?” Jamal asked. He knew the team couldn’t wait much longer.
“Real soon.” Mr. Malone smiled. “Tonight.”
“Jamal!” screamed his mom. “Get in here quick!”
Jamal shot out of his room like a cannon. He had been doing homework, but he was worried something had happened to his mom. An accident. An injury. Maybe she had fallen and hurt herself. He raced into the living room expecting the worst.
“There’s my handsome boy.” She was sitting on the couch and pointing at the
TV
. There was an ear-to-ear grin on her face.
“So you’re not hurt. You don’t have a broken leg or anything?”
“No, why would you think that?”
“You don’t usually scream at home.”
“That’s because I don’t usually see my boy being interviewed on
The Sports Channel
. Why didn’t you tell me you’d be on?”
“Because I didn’t want you to get all excited and freak out.”
“Who, me? You know that would never happen!”
“No. Never.”
“And there’s Darnell and Rico and Carlos. All you guys on
TV
. This is going to make you famous.”
“We don’t want to be famous. We want
our game
to be famous. We need people to start buying
Sack the Coach
. We can’t play another game using rags for uniforms.”
His mom grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.
“So remember, football fans,” the reporter said, “make sure you download
Sack the Coach.
” He held the screen on his phone up close to the camera to show a cartoon player chasing a coach around the field. “For only ninety-nine cents you can help Southside get some new uniforms.
It’s a great game for a great cause. I’m Joe Malone, and that’s my call.”
“That was like free advertising for your game, Jamal.”
“Yeah, pretty awesome,” he said, heading back to his room. “I just wonder if anyone else watched it besides us.”
He tried doing his math homework again, but he couldn’t focus. The only numbers he was interested in were the ones adding up in his account, ninety-nine cents at a time.
Coach Kemp blew his whistle. “Let’s hit the showers.”
He had just put Southside through another long practice. He had to make it tough to get the team ready for the next game. The Saints had to win. If they didn’t come away with a victory, they could kiss the playoffs goodbye. The clock was ticking.
“We only have a week to get ready for the next game, against the Etobicoke Knights,” Coach said, striding off the field.
“After what happened last week, that’s going to be a challenge.”
“I think there’s a bigger challenge, Coach.” Jamal took off his old, scratched-up helmet. “We have even less time to come up with the money for new uniforms. I don’t know if the guys can play one more game without them.”
“You got that right.” Carlos pulled off his ripped jersey and threw it into his locker. “Everything’s falling apart.”
“I saw you on
TSC
a couple of nights ago,” Coach Kemp said. “You guys looked good on
TV
.”
“Yeah, the camera loves me,” Rico joked. “I’m thinking of going to Hollywood.”
“The video game looked good too,” Coach said. “I even paid the ninety-nine cents and downloaded it.”
“Well, at least we know
Sack the Coach
made one dollar,” Darnell said. “Just twenty thousand more downloads like that and we’ve got it made.”
“That’s a ton,” Rico said. “Sounds impossible.”
“How do we know if there’s been more than one?” Carlos asked.
“I can find out,” Jamal said. “There’s an app that can track how our game is selling.” “Then what are we waiting for?” Carlos asked. “Let’s check it, dude.”
“But I need to get online. And I don’t have a phone.”
“Just give me a minute,” Coach Kemp said, disappearing around the corner. He came back a minute later carrying a silver laptop. “It’s all yours.”
Jamal set the computer on the bench and went to work. In just a few seconds he had downloaded the app and keyed in the code for their game. Suddenly the screen was filled with numbers and colored boxes.
Darnell wrinkled his brow. “Looks like a bunch of charts and graphs.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” Jamal said. “Each one tells us how
Sack the Coach
is doing.”
News that Jamal was checking out the game spread through the locker room. Eli, Malik, Davey and the rest of the team
huddled around the laptop. Most of the players still had their raggedy equipment on. They all had their fingers crossed. Everyone hoped they could start thinking about new uniforms.
“So what does that chart tell us?” Darnell pointed to a green box with a bunch of numbers.
Jamal focused on the screen. “That list shows how many times the game has been downloaded since it came out three days ago.”
“How many?” Carlos asked. “Five or ten?”
“More like five or ten…thousand!” A huge smile spread across Jamal’s face.
“Quit fooling around, man,” Rico said. “This is serious business.”
“I’m not kidding.
Sack the Coach
has been downloaded over ten thousand times in the last three days.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Carlos said, his eyes popping wide.
“This blue chart shows where it’s been downloaded. Ontario, Alberta, British Columbia, Texas, California, New York…
pretty much all ten provinces and all fifty states. There are even some in Australia, England and China.”
“It’s a worldwide hit, man!” Rico shouted.
“Now the big question,” Darnell asked. “How much money have we made?”
Jamal ran his finger along the screen to where it said
Total
. “Ten.”
“Only ten dollars?” Rico wrinkled his brow. “I thought it’d be more.”
“You’ve got to do more math homework,” Jamal said. “How about ten
thousand
dollars!”
The big huddle around the screen erupted. There was a volcano blast of cheers. Fists pumped the air. Knuckles were bumped.
“And that’s after only three days. After a week we should have over twenty thousand. And you know what that means?”
“New unis!” Carlos shouted, throwing his old jersey on the floor.
The huddle picked up the victory cry and started chanting. “New unis! New unis! New unis!”
Suddenly there was a knock on the locker-room door. Rico ran over and swung it open. Jamal was shocked to see who it was.
“I could hear the cheering all the way to my office,” Principal Campbell said. “I came to find out what all the excitement is about.”
“Looks like
Sack the Coach
is going to make enough money for new uniforms,” Coach Kemp said.
The players exploded again. “New unis! New unis! New unis!”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” the principal said. “Maybe all year.”
Coach Kemp nodded. “With your permission, I’d like to order the team new uniforms.”
“Permission granted!”
For the second time in less than a week, Jamal saw Principal Campbell with a look he rarely saw—a huge smile.
“Listen up!” Coach Kemp cast his eyes around the locker room at the sea of new uniforms. “I’ve got a couple announcements.”
Jamal had just finished pulling on his new team colors. A blue jersey with bright gold numbers. Blue pants with gold stripes down both legs. And a shiny blue helmet with a big gold
S
on the side. The gear was awesome. All fresh out of the box, still with that new-uniform smell. A big shipment had just arrived at the school that morning.
The team had rushed down to the locker room early and dived in.
He glanced in the mirror. The ragtag player he used to see was gone. Now the player with the coolest uniform in the league stared back. And there was no goofy fort to be seen. He gave a silent nod and turned his attention to the coach.
“This is a big game,” Coach Kemp said. “The biggest of the season. Win and we go to the playoffs. Lose and we fall short of our goal. You’ve had a tough year. A coach who didn’t believe in you, uniforms that were in tatters, spirits that were broken.” He scanned the room again. There wasn’t a sound. An army of blue and gold stood at attention. All eyes were front and center. “But it’s what you do in the end that counts. How you rise above the tough times that will be remembered. We can win this game against Etobicoke. Make no mistake—the Knights will give us everything we can handle. But if we work together, if we play as a team, we can bring victory to the Saints.”
The team chanted, “Saints! Saints! Saints!”
“What’s second, Coach?” Rico asked.
Coach Kemp frowned. “Davey Sanchez won’t be playing center today.”
“Why not?” Rico shot a glance at Davey, who was also puzzled by the announcement. “He looks fine to me, Coach.”
“That’s because Billy Chang will be,” Coach said with a big grin. “I asked him if he was ready to play, and he said yes.”
Right at that second Billy walked into the locker room. He was already dressed in a new Saints uniform.
“Where have you been hiding?” Jamal asked.
“I’ve been waiting in Coach’s office. We wanted to surprise you guys. Get everyone pumped.”
“Well, it worked,” Darnell said, bumping fists. “I can’t wait for you to snap the ball to me like old times.”
“And don’t worry about Davey,” Coach said. “He’ll be playing guard just like he used to.”
The Saints charged onto the field. Flashes of blue and gold streaked across the green grass.
Southside was on fire right from the opening kick. On the very first play, Darnell took the snap from Billy and dropped back to pass. Jamal sprinted from his own thirty-yard line and darted across the middle of the field. Darnell flicked his wrist and hit him on the quick slant. Jamal hauled the ball in, and his legs did the rest. He broke wide around the cornerback, and then it was a foot race to the end zone. But it was no contest. Once Jamal put his powerful engine into high gear, there was no stopping him. The Knights safety was the last man to beat. Jamal cut inside of him at the last second and ran across the goal line.
The referee raised both arms high over his head and blew his whistle. The game was less than a minute old and the Saints were already ahead by a touchdown.
Jamal dashed to the sideline, getting high fives from the defensive squad as they hustled onto the field.
“This is going to be easy, dude,” Carlos said as he passed.
Jamal had played too many games to think the Knights were going to fold. He knew the team in the silver uniforms would come back fighting. This game was far from over.
He was right. For the rest of the first half, the Knights offense pounded the Saints. Their quarterback was in total control. Twice Jamal watched him march his silver machine down the field and score. He mixed up his plays like a magician, so the Saints never knew what was coming next. A running sweep to the left on one play. First down. A square-out pass the next. First down. They seemed unstoppable. No matter what the call, the Knights offense sliced through the Saints defense like a knife through butter.
The referee blew his whistle to end the first half. Jamal looked over at the scoreboard and shook his head. Knights 14–Saints 7.
The Saints huddled around Coach Kemp on the sideline. He looked more disappointed than mad. “What’s going on out there?” he asked, eyes moving from player to player until finally landing on Jamal.