“Yeah . . . I guess I don’t want to be big, Manny. I wanna be just like you.”
“Thanks, buddy. Now let’s go set the table for dinner.”
The bad news came at Wednesday’s practice, when Coach Reynolds called the kickoff team together.
“We got burned twice last Saturday, fellas, and that really hurt our chances to win the game. This week we play over in Newark, and that’s another very powerful team. You know that I want every player on this team to get a fair shot, but we need to make some changes on the kickoff squad. Our left side is a little weak, so for now I’m putting a few of the defensive starters there. We’ll re-evaluate things as the season goes on.”
Manny, Donald, and two others were off the kickoff team for now, replaced by the starting linebackers and Jason Fiorelli. The displaced players headed off the field to watch the kickoff squad go through the drill.
Manny kneeled at the sideline but kept his helmet on, blinking back a few tears. Donald paced back and forth, muttering to himself and smacking his fist in his hand. The other players stood silently, watching the action on the field.
Finally Donald came over and kneeled next to Manny. “This sucks,” he said. “All we needed was some experience. We got that last week. We’d have no problem this week, I guarantee it. We’d stop those suckers cold.”
Manny just stared at the field. Eventually Anthony came over and stood next to him. Anthony was way too slow for the kickoff team, but he was the anchor of the offensive and defensive lines. So he was in for every play except the kicks. Manny’s eyes only came up to the level of Anthony’s shoulder pads.
“How you doin’, Manny?” Anthony asked.
Manny shrugged.
“We could use your speed on those kickoffs,” Anthony said. “But I guess what we mostly needed was a little more strength.”
“Yeah,” Manny said softly. “I got pushed all over the field last week.”
“Well, don’t feel too bad. Those guys were big. Even
I
got pushed around a little. ’Course, I pushed back pretty good.”
Donald stepped closer, punching Anthony lightly on the arm. “We just weren’t thinking,” Donald said. “I mean, that was our first game. Give us another week of practice and we’d be unbeatable.”
“Well, Coach said he’d re-evaluate,” Anthony said. “I hope so. You guys deserve to be playing. Maybe this isn’t the end.”
“It better not be,” Manny said. He sniffed hard and spit. “We’ve been working too hard to spend the rest of the season on the sideline.”
10
Left Out
T
he game in Newark was on Sunday afternoon, so Manny’s family went to the early mass. The bus was to leave at eleven, so Manny hustled to get his uniform on, and his dad drove him to the school.
“See you at the game,” Dad said.
“Right,” Manny said. He was looking forward to the game, but this was nothing like the week before, when he’d had a hollow, nervous feeling, knowing he’d be in the spotlight on those kickoffs. Today he’d be little more than a spectator. He missed the anxiety of the week before.
Donald and Manny sat together on the bus. Players whooped and smacked each other, getting psyched up for the game, but the two of them stayed pretty quiet. Manny didn’t even feel like part of the team.
Coach Reynolds gathered the players at the sideline just before the kickoff. “This is one tough league we play in, gentlemen. Week after week, we go against big, quick opponents. We lost a tight one last week, but a win here today will get us right back in the race. Are we ready?”
“Yes!” shouted the players.
“I said,
Are we ready?
”
“Yes!” they yelled even louder.
Coach was quiet for a few seconds. “Then let’s do it,” he said.
“Let’s go!”
The players spread out along the sideline, waiting for the kickoff. Hudson City was receiving the ball. Manny bounced up and down a few times, feeling a surge of energy. The day was the coolest in quite a while, just right for a football game. Manny was ready to hit somebody, to bring somebody down. But it didn’t seem likely that would happen.
Hudson City mounted a short drive on its first possession, but wound up punting before reaching midfield. The Newark team didn’t have much luck either, and Fiorelli broke a long return on the Newark punt, sprinting down the sideline in front of the Hudson City bench as his teammates shouted and leaped.
Fiorelli stumbled slightly as he crossed the 10-yard line, enabling a Newark player to tackle him from behind. But the Hornets had a first-and-goal opportunity.
“Let’s punch it in!” Coach Reynolds yelled as the offense took the field.
Vinnie DiMarco called signals and took the snap. He handed the ball to the fullback, Jared Owen, who barreled ahead nearly to the goal line before being stopped. DiMarco dove into the end zone on a quarterback sneak on the very next play, and his extra-point kick gave Hudson City a 7–0 lead.
“That’s the way!” Coach called. “Kickoff team on the field!”
Manny felt a sudden chill as the coach called for the kickoff unit.
That should be me
, he thought. He glanced over at Donald, who was looking out at the field with a scowl.
Manny turned toward the bleachers. He knew right where his parents and Sal were sitting. He hadn’t told them he was no longer on the kickoff squad. Sal was standing, looking up and down the field. Manny turned back to the game. He swallowed hard.
The kickoff team did its job, and Newark began at its own 25. The home team had a pair of strong running backs, and they began to find their groove. Eating up 4 or 5 yards at a time, Newark moved down the field, using an occasional short pass to keep the defense on their toes. The drive ate up several minutes and was capped by a 7-yard end-around dash into the end zone.
Newark attempted to take the lead with a two-point conversion, counting on their fullback to hammer it in for the score. But Anthony muscled past his blocker and filled the hole quickly, bringing the ball carrier down short of the goal line. So Hudson City retained the lead, 7–6.
Halftime came, and Coach Reynolds was pleased. “They haven’t broken any big gains on us,” he said. “If we can contain those running backs in the second half, we should come out of here with a win.”
Manny jogged back to the field with his teammates. He wasn’t likely to get any playing time in a game as close as this one, but he’d be ready if the chance arrived.
“Great play on that extra-point attempt,” he said to Anthony.
“I was mad that they’d been running all over us on that drive,” Anthony said. “Had to do something big.”
“You did it.”
Fiorelli stuck his head between them. “The goalposts were rattling after that tackle,” he said. “Anthony made the ground shake.”
“We are lightning and thunder, Jason,” Anthony said. “You got the speed and I got the power.”
Manny took a good look at his two teammates. They had everything he didn’t have—strength, height, confidence. Fiorelli jogged onto the field. Anthony rested a hand on Manny’s shoulder. “Hope you get to play some,” he said.
“So do I.”
Hudson City kicked off to start the second half, and again stopped Newark well upfield. Manny had to admit that the new lineup was working.
Late in the third quarter, Hudson City had the ball near midfield, facing a third down and seven. Everyone in the stadium expected a pass play.
“Got to get it to Jason,” Manny whispered to Donald.
Jason Fiorelli was split wide. Manny and everyone else had expected DiMarco to be the star of this team, but it seemed as if Jason was emerging as the standout.
DiMarco dropped back and looked toward the secondary, searching for an open receiver. Seeing no one, he rolled toward the sideline, tucking the ball close to his chest and trying to run for it. But just before crossing the line of scrimmage, he spotted Fiorelli angling back toward the sideline, a step or two ahead of the defender.
DiMarco stopped in his tracks and heaved the ball toward Fiorelli, who stretched to his maximum and caught the pass with his fingertips. He hauled it in close and never broke stride, running straight to the end zone for the touchdown.
Fiorelli jogged over to the bench and slapped hands with his teammates. Donald smacked him on the shoulder. DiMarco’s kick made it 14–6, and the Hornets and their fans could sense a victory on the way.
The defense remained steady, forcing Newark to punt on its next possession. Anthony stopped the next opportunity with a ferocious sack of the quarterback on a fourth-down play in Hudson City territory.
DiMarco then led a steady, time-consuming drive for Hudson City as the fourth quarter wound down, finally connecting with Fiorelli on another touchdown pass that all but sealed the victory.
Coach Reynolds made a fist and pumped his arm. He grabbed hold of Fiorelli and shook his hand. “Take a rest,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”
Coach looked around. “Donald!” he shouted. “Get out there for the kickoff. Give Jason the break he’s earned. Let’s do it!”
Donald jammed his helmet onto his head and quickly snapped the chinstrap as he ran onto the field. Manny stood alone on the sideline.
The kick was high and deep, giving the Hornets a good chance to get downfield before the runback. The return man fielded the ball and hesitated slightly, not sure which way up the field would be best. He cut toward the sideline and angled upfield, but Donald and two others were right in his path. The runner gave a juke and turned back to the center of the field, then eluded one tackler and swerved back toward the sideline. Donald hit him low and another hit him high, and the kickoff team had its third straight stop without any major runbacks.
Donald came racing off the field with his fist in the air. He jumped the last two yards to the sideline, landing with both feet right next to Manny.
“
Big-time
hit!” Donald said. “Squashed that guy like a bug.”
“Nice job,” Manny said, trying as hard as he could to sound enthusiastic.
Donald walked over to the bench, joining the other kickoff team members, who were laughing and pounding each other. “We’re back in business!” Donald said.
Manny let out his breath and looked at the field. That could have been him.
But it wasn’t.
11
The Wrong Sport?
M
anny sat quietly on the bus ride back to Hudson City, looking out the window as his teammates celebrated the victory. Donald was next to him, but he kneeled on his seat and faced the back of the bus, shouting and laughing like the others.
“Come on, Manny,” Donald finally said. “We kicked their butts! Get into it.”
Manny forced a smile, but he didn’t feel like cheering. He slumped in his seat a bit more and waited for the bus ride to end.
“We’re all going over to McDonald’s to celebrate,” Donald said as they got off the bus. “You coming?”
“I don’t think so,” Manny said. “Not hungry.”
“So what?” Donald said. “Get a soda.”
“Nah,” Manny said. “My parents wanted me to get right home after the game.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know.” Actually, Manny’s parents had said that they
didn’t
expect him home right away. But he didn’t feel like being with the team. He didn’t even feel like
part
of the team.
So Manny walked home alone. His parents and Sal were watching TV.
“Hi, Manny!” Sal said. “You guys won!”
“Yeah,” Manny said glumly. “No thanks to me.”
“Well, you’ll get ’em next time,” Dad said. “Keep your chin up.”
“I know.”
“You would’ve scored three touchdowns if they’d let you play!” Sal said.
Manny frowned. “Don’t kid yourself, Sal,” he said. “I wouldn’t score a touchdown if I played for six years.”
Sal just stared at his brother with his mouth open. Manny never spoke to him like that.
“Get over it, squirt,” Manny said sharply. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for me to be a hero.”
Sal looked stunned, then he blinked back tears. Manny felt awful for hurting Sal’s feelings, but the little guy would have to deal with it. It was hard enough for Manny to know that he was no football star without Sal pretending all the time that he was.
Manny turned with a sigh and plodded up the stairs. He shut the bedroom door and took off his uniform and pads. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on them, of course. He changed into shorts and a T-shirt and walked back down the stairs. It wouldn’t be dark yet for more than an hour.
“I’m going for a walk,” he told his parents.
“Where to?” said Mom.
“Just around. A run, actually. I’ve got a lot of energy to burn.”
“You weren’t nice to Sal,” Mom said.
“I know, Mom. He’ll live.”
Manny ran along a side street, then cut over to Central Avenue, running parallel to the Boulevard. As he neared St. Joseph’s Church, he heard shouting. His old soccer team was having a game.
The scoreboard said Home 2, Visitor 1, and showed about three minutes left in the game. Manny watched from outside the fence as his team held off a frantic offensive charge by their opponents and hung on for a narrow win.
He missed that feeling of running down the field, his legs and the ball moving almost as one. The jittery little fakes and jukes as he worked his way through the defense, finding an open teammate or taking it to the goal by himself.
Maybe next year. Or maybe the coach had been right when he’d suggested cross-country. Manny could run all day. Football wasn’t looking like the right sport for him these days.
He took off again, running a bit faster now, excited by the soccer game. He headed to the track and ran a few laps, then walked the half mile back to his house.
“Worked up a sweat, I see,” Dad said as Manny entered the living room.