Cody's Varsity Rush

CODY'S VARSITY RUSH
BOOK 5

Other Books in the Spirit of the Game Series

Goal-Line Stand
(Book 1)

Full-Court Press
(Book 2)

Second Wind
(Book 3)

Stealing Home
(Book 4)

Three-Point Play
(Book 6)

Split Decision
(Book 7)

Ultimate Challenge
(Book 8)

ZONDERKIDZ

www.zonderkidz.com

CODY'S VARSITY RUSH
Copyright © 2005 by Todd Hafer

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

ePub Edition June 2009 ISBN: 0-310-86141-1

Requests for information should be addressed to
Zonderkidz, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hafer, Todd.
Cody's varsity rush / Todd Hafer.
p.  cm.- (Spirit of the game series ; bk. 5)
Summary: Now a high school freshman, Cody makes the varsity football team and struggles with whether to identify himself as a Christian at school and on the playing field.
ISBN-13: 978–0–310–70794–3
[1. Christian life—Fiction. 2. Football—Fiction. 3. Conduct of life—Fiction. 4. High schools—Fiction 5. Schools—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.H11975Cod 2005
[Fic]–dc22

2005004292

All Scripture quotations are taken from the
Holy Bible, New International Version®
(NIV®). Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Zonderkidz is a trademark of Zondervan.

Cover design by Alan Close

Photos by Synergy Photographic

05 06 07 08/DCI/5 4 3 2 1

Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Copyright

1. Back in the Danger Zone

2. Brendan Clark in the Dark

3. The Intruder

4. The Speed Challenge

5. Road Kill

6. Nowhere to Hide

7. The Pain Pool

8. Epilogue

About the Publisher

Share Your Thoughts

This book is dedicated to the life and memory of
Tim Hanson, a true athlete, a true friend.

Foreword

I
love sports. I have always loved sports. I have competed in various sports at various levels right through college. And today, even though my official competitive days are behind me, you can still find me on the golf course working on my game, or on a basketball court playing a game of pick-up.

Sports have also helped me learn some of life's important lessons—lessons about humility, risk, dedication, teamwork, friendship. Cody Martin, the central character in “The Spirit of the Game” series, learns these lessons too. Some of them the hard way. I think you'll enjoy following Cody in his athletic endeavors.

Like most of us, he doesn't win every game or every race. He's not the best athlete in his school, not by a long shot. But he does taste victory, because, as you'll see, he comes to understand that life's greatest victories aren't reflected on a scoreboard. They are the times when you rely on a strength beyond your own—a spiritual strength—to carry you through. They are the times when you put the needs of someone else before your own. They are the times when sports become a way to celebrate the life God has given you.

So read on, and may you always possess the true Spirit of the Game.

Toby McKeehan

Chapter 1 Back in the Danger Zone

C
ody strained against the weight on his chest. He hungered for one more bench press, but now the bar seemed rooted to his torso.

“A little help,” he gasped. He wondered if his plea was loud enough for anyone in the Grant High School weight room to hear. A few seconds passed. He wondered if anyone had died this way—pinned to a weight bench and slowly crushed by 135 pounds of iron.

He felt relief wash over him when the Evans twins, Bart and Brett, appeared on either side of the bench. They each grabbed one end of the long iron bar and lifted it from Cody's chest, helping him extend his arms and replace it atop the posts that rose like crossbars at the head of the bench.

“Thanks for the spot, guys,” Cody said. “I shoulda stopped at three reps.”

“No problem, Martin,” Bart said. “Doing reps with 135? That's pretty good. That's five pounds better than my max.” He looked down at Cody. “It looks like you're starting to get some guns on you. Robyn Hart's gonna be impressed.”

“Squirt guns, maybe,” Cody said, ignoring the dig. “Some of the juniors and seniors are lifting twice what I'm doing.” He sat up and looked around the room. At this early hour, 8:00 a.m., it was mostly frosh and sophomore football hopefuls trying to prepare for the upcoming season. The older players would arrive a bit later. Cody wanted to finish his workout before that happened. It was embarrassing to watch guys warm up with the kind of weight that he could lift only a few times—and then only with much grunting and ungainly effort.

“Hey,” Bart said, dislodging Cody from his thoughts. “Chop's here!”

Cody turned to the entrance expecting to see Pork Chop Porter smiling, flexing his thick arms, and telling everyone, “Okay, time to load up all bars and machines with the man-weights. Chop's in the house!”

But Chop stood in the doorway somber and quiet, his eyes scanning the room. When he locked on Cody, he raised his right arm and made a curling motion with his forefinger.

Cody frowned and followed Chop out of the weight room.

“What's up, Chop?” he asked once they were outside, squinting against the bright late-August sun. You look like your breakfast didn't agree with you or something.”

Chop didn't appear to have heard him. “Dude, Gabe Weitz is back in town,” he said grimly.

“Gabe Weitz?” Cody was surprised by the shrillness of his own voice. “That psycho loser? I thought he got thrown in jail up in Denver earlier in the summer. Assault charges.”

“Yeah, that's what I heard too,” said a voice behind Cody.

Cody turned 180 degrees to face Bart, who had followed him out the door.

Pork Chop wagged his head slowly. “I don't know where he was, dawgs; I just know he's back. I was in Dairy Delight last night—I just stopped in for a chocolate shake to go—and he walks in. He comes over to me, and I think he's gonna take a swing at me. But he just says, ‘Hello, Porter. You doin' okay? And how about your little friend?'”

“Whoa!” Bart said. “What did you say to him?”

“I didn't say anything. I just stared at him. Tried to stare right through him. And I made sure I held my ground. He was right up in my face, but there was no way I was takin' a step back. Finally, he walks away and goes up to the counter, probably to see if the Double D has a Loser Meal or something. So, I figure I can go now, right? I get to the door and I hear him say, ‘See you guys around.' I don't like the way he said it. It was a threat, no doubt.”

Cody groaned. “Man, I thought we were done with that guy.”

Bart scrunched up his forehead. “What does he have against you guys anyway? I mean, this isn't still about your brother laying the smackdown on him last winter, is it, Chop?”

Pork Chop sighed heavily. “I think it is, at least partially. He wanted revenge big-time after that. He tried to hit us with beer bottles one time. Then he went after Co and Drew Phelps during track season. Chased 'em all over town.”

“Crazy,” Bart said. “When's he gonna give up?”

“Probably not till one of us is in the hospital,” Pork Chop answered. “Or the morgue.”

The words made Cody shudder. He recalled how easily Weitz had thrown him against the Grant Middle School gym door and then had tossed him, like a rag doll, in a snowbank. All for the heinous crime of letting the door close and lock behind him.

Cody pictured how Pork Chop had come to his rescue before Weitz could pull him out of the snow and pummel him some more. Chop had held his own against the larger, older enemy.

Then Doug Porter had appeared. One vicious uppercut to the stomach and it was over. Weitz's ab muscles—if he had any muscles under his substantial beer gut—were probably still aching now, almost a year later.

“Look guys,” Bart said, apparently uncomfortable with the uneasy silence, “so what if he's back. I mean, if he messes with either one of you, you just call Doug, right, Chop? And he comes down from Boulder and stomps a mud hole in Weitz, once and for all.”

Pork Chop chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. “That's not gonna happen, dawg. Doug's a college football player now. And you know what's been happenin' in college ball lately. The scandals and stuff. That ‘boys will be boys' junk—it's so over now. Doug's gotta keep his nose clean or he gets booted off the team. It's as simple as that. Besides, Boulder's a long way from Grant, and I don't even think he's comin' home till Thanksgiving. Maybe during a bye week in mid-October. That's almost two months away. Co and I could be dead meat by then.”

“So what are you going to do?” Bart asked, his voice becoming nasal and whiney.

Pork Chop looked at Cody. “Try to stay alive. Watch each other's backs, right, dawg?”