First and Ten (5 page)

chapter six

The double doors to the South Side gym were closed when Matt, Phil and Jake arrived early Monday morning. It was still twenty minutes before advisory began, but Matt and Phil had wanted to get to the gym early, knowing that Coach Reynolds was posting the football roster on the bulletin board. Jake was simply tagging along to see who made it and who didn't.

They joined the crowd already standing in front of the bulletin board, surveying the list of names. The coach had drawn up a depth chart, with players listed by position, instead of merely a straight roster. Once they got close enough, Matt scanned the offensive side of the chart. If he was going to be on the team, it would be as an offensive player since he hadn't run any drills with the defense.

His eyes immediately went to the receiver category, which was topped by Nate Brown. Typed right below Brown's name was
Hill,
Matthew.
He had made it. He was on the Stingers football team. Matt hadn't thought a lot about the cuts over the weekend. His mind had been preoccupied by his father's sudden reappearance. But this was both huge news and a major relief.

Matt continued looking down the depth chart. But just as he had feared, Phil's name wasn't there. He was pretty sure, judging by Phil's mood this morning on the way to school, that his buddy had already resigned himself to the fact he wasn't going to make the team. Phil hadn't done anything outstanding in practice, and he had made several mistakes in the Maroon-and-White game. Given his size and his lack of football experience, it had been a long shot for Phil Wong to make the team from the beginning.

“Hey, Matt, nice going,” Phil said, smiling. “I knew you would make it.”

“Sorry, Philly,” Matt replied. “I was hoping to see your name up there too.”

“That's okay,” Phil replied. “I'll just gear up early for basketball season, I guess. Anyway, Grandma needs help around the store so…”

Matt thought that Phil was just making excuses. He knew his friend must be disappointed. But there wasn't much he could do about it.

Matt turned his attention back to the team roster. The quarterback spot was no surprise. Kyle James was listed as the starter, with Ricky Jackson second and Keith Vickers third. Now there was an interesting selection, Matt thought. Vickers was the seventh-grader who had been trying out for receiver, the kid whom Matt felt he had to beat out for a spot on the team. But Vickers could also throw the ball and was pretty quick. It was a smart move for Coach to keep him on the roster, playing receiver and getting some reps in at quarterback too.

One figure eyeing the depth chart stood out. Matt recognized Mr. Jackson, Ricky's father. He didn't look happy. Shaking his head, Mr. Jackson strode toward the coaches' office. Just then, the warning bell rang for the daily twenty-minute advisory period. Matt had to hurry if he was going to make it across campus in time.

For the second straight year, Matt had drawn Ms. Dawson as his advisory teacher. He considered himself lucky. She was a tall, dark-haired woman with hazel eyes and a warm, welcoming way about her that made everyone feel comfortable. Matt had enjoyed these advisory periods last year.

Ms. Dawson had a different theme almost every day. Sometimes it was a piece of news the class would discuss, sometimes she would stick a cd into the mini stereo on her desk and then break down what the lyrics meant with the students. Today she simply wrote one word on the blackboard:
Forgiveness
.

“This is a confusing time in your lives,” she told the students. “There are all kinds of things coming your way—drugs, sex and peer pressure to do all kinds of stuff.

“But what I wanted to talk about today is the concept of forgiveness. Nobody gets through middle school without making some kind of mistake. It's a time in your life when you're finding out who you are. You are bound to screw up once in awhile, right?”

Heads nodded all around the room.

“So I guess forgiveness is important in a couple of ways,” Ms. Dawson continued. “First, we must be able to find it in ourselves to forgive other people who do things they shouldn't. We shouldn't give up on our friends if they make a mistake, right? We wouldn't want them to give up on us.

“And second, we need to learn how to forgive ourselves. That's important too. You need to know that it's okay to make mistakes and that you'll learn from them. You need to know that you can carry around the knowledge of what you've learned from making those mistakes. But don't carry around the guilt. Forgive yourself. You deserve it.”

Matt was confused. And judging by the looks on the faces of his fellow students, he wasn't the only one. This hadn't been one of Ms. Dawson's better sessions. When the bell rang, he rushed out of the classroom. He couldn't wait to get through the school day and on to practice. The Stingers would be getting their uniforms today. Sweet.

At the end of the day Matt stuffed the books he didn't need into his locker and headed to the gym. A long table with South Side jerseys, helmets and football pants was set up in the middle of the basketball floor, with Charlie Dougan heading up a football assembly line.

A smallish ninth-grader with short blond hair, Dougan had been the manager of the baseball team last spring and had helped Matt a great deal with his hitting. Matt saw that the large brace Charlie had worn on his left leg for the past year was gone, although he still seemed to be limping a little.

The players lined up to receive their gear. Matt was excited. Three weeks of practice had paid off. He was on the team, a second-stringer maybe, but on the team just the same. As he drew closer to the table, Matt noticed Phil Wong standing beside Charlie Dougan, talking to the manager. Phil nodded his head, went to the equipment room, grabbed a box and brought it to Charlie.

“Hey, Phil,” Matt said as he got closer to the table. “What's going on?”

“I'm going to be a manager.” Phil smiled. “I talked to Coach about it this morning. There's more than one way to be part of this football team.”

Matt grinned. He was happy to see Phil being so positive after the disappointment of not making the roster. Matt didn't think he would have been so gracious in the same situation.

After collecting their gear, the team gathered around Coach Reynolds. It was raining hard outside, so there would be no practice today.

“Listen up, people,” the coach said. “First of all, congratulations on making the Stingers. That's a real accomplishment and due to three weeks or more of hard work.

“But let's remember, our real work is just beginning. We play North Vale on Friday night. We have only three days of practice to get ready. I'm going to need all your concentration for those three days or we're going to go out there and fall on our faces. And boys, I don't like falling on my face.”

The players chuckled.

“So take these uniforms home, show them off to your parents and friends and girlfriends. But then store them away until North Vale. Come back tomorrow in your ratty old practice gear and be ready to sweat.”

chapter seven

Matt could hardly wait to get home to tell his mom that he had made the football team. She must have heard him coming up the steps because she met him at the door.

“So?” she said, drawing out the word. “What happened?”

“I'm on the team,” Matt said triumphantly. “We got our uniforms today and we've got a game against North Vale on Friday after school. Can you make it?”

“I'll be there, Matt,” she replied. “I wouldn't miss it. Just please, please promise me you'll try not to get hurt. I don't think I could handle seeing that.”

Matt spent most of dinner going over the Stingers' schedule with his mom. Although she clearly didn't know much about football, she listened attentively to him explain how the team's season would unfold. Unlike basketball, South Side played each other team in the district middle school league only once. The league had only six teams, since three area schools did not field football squads. Coach Reynolds had said that it cost $20,000 a season just to put a team on the field and that they should consider themselves lucky because the South Side booster club raised those funds every year.

“I'm proud of you for making the team, Matt,” his mom said. “But I need to tell you, your father called when you were at practice today. He wants to know if it's okay if he comes to your game Friday too.”

For most of the day, Matt had managed to forget about his dad. Making the football team, getting his uniform and all the excitement that went along with that had for the time being taken his mind off the big news in his personal life.

“I'm okay with it, if you are,” Matt said, eyeing his mother carefully. “I mean, I'd understand if you weren't.”

Mom put her fork down and looked at Matt. “This isn't about me,” she said seriously. “This is about you. We aren't going to be sitting together or anything, so if your father decides to come to the game, it won't affect me one way or another. It should be whatever you're comfortable with, Matt.”

Matt didn't see how it would hurt to have his dad come to the game. He was actually excited about the idea—which made him feel a bit guilty. He had often longed to have a father at his games, like everyone else. The dads were always helping out at practice, or managing, or scorekeeping or driving to and from games. Matt's mom had done her share of that stuff, but for some reason it wasn't quite the same.

“I guess it's okay,” he told her. “Can you tell him that for me?”

His mother nodded. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said. “I've got some good news today too.”

“What is it?” Matt asked.

“I sold the old Baker house over on Wallace. You know, that huge place with the pool and the tennis courts. That's going to be a pretty nice commission.”

“Way to go, Mom!” Matt roared, high-fiving her across the table. “Not a bad day for the Hills all around.”

Matt had quite a bit of homework to finish up that night. He was taking Spanish for the first time this year and struggling with it. His accent was awful. He felt like an idiot every time he tried to pronounce a word during class. Half the kids in the class seemed to be of Hispanic heritage, and Matt imagined them rolling around the aisles laughing at his lame efforts. The language certainly didn't come naturally to him.

He turned on the computer in his bedroom. He had a new e-mail from Andrea Thomas. He hadn't seen much of her since football practice and school began. They had spent a lot of time together during the summer, playing pickup basketball and going for bike rides. Matt liked Andrea, and he knew the feeling was mutual. In fact on a couple of long walks in July they had held hands and Matt had almost worked up the nerve to kiss her goodnight. But Andrea had gone to Europe with her parents for the last couple of weeks of August. And when she returned, she had jumped right into soccer. She was a star midfielder for the South Side girls' team. They didn't have advisory period together, either, so they only spoke in the hallway at school and during long telephone conversations. Matt hadn't realized how much he'd missed her.

He opened the e-mail.
You made the football
team!
it began.
Nice going, Matt. I knew you
would.

Andrea said the South Side girls' soccer team was looking strong this year. They were playing their first game Thursday night. Could he come and watch?

Thinking about U a lot
, it concluded.
Luv,
Andrea.

Matt was alone, but he felt himself blush as he read the e-mail. He hit Reply and wrote back immediately. It was time to tell somebody other than his family about his dad coming back into his life. Somehow, telling Andrea made him feel a little more comfortable about everything, even if it was only in an e-mail.

About an hour into his homework, he looked up to see he had another e-mail. It was Andrea again.
Matt, that's unbelievable news about your
dad
, it began.
I just think it's so great of you to
be able to forgive like that. If my dad had walked
out on me and my mom, I'm not sure I'd be able
to do that…You're a special guy. Luv, Andrea.

Matt felt a glow envelope him as he read the e-mail. He hadn't thought about it that way. But now that Andrea brought it up, he began thinking about Ms. Dawson's theme in advisory that morning. Forgiveness. Being able to forgive somebody when they screwed up, she had said, was an admirable trait to possess. It seemed weird to Matt, though, that the person he was supposedly forgiving was his father.

chapter eight

Between school and football practice, the week shot past in a blur. Eighth grade was proving much more difficult than seventh had been for Matt. Not only was Spanish a tough subject, but he was also still having problems in mathematics, which had never been one of his strengths. And the teachers seemed less inclined to cut second-year students a break. Homework was expected on time, and teachers weren't there to remind you on a regular basis about turning in every assignment. That was elementary school stuff. If you didn't hand something in, you paid the price with an “incomplete” on your record.

As he headed out the door for school on Friday morning, Matt reminded his mom about the game later that day. “It starts at five o'clock at our school, okay?”

“I'll be there with my pom-poms.” She smiled.

Matt groaned. He knew his mother had been a cheerleader in high school. But somehow the thought of her dressed in a Stingers cheerleader outfit and turning cartwheels down the sidelines just seemed wrong. Matt hustled down Anderson, toward the big oak where Phil and Jake would be waiting. But when he arrived at the spot, only Jake was there. “Where's Philly?” he asked.

“No idea,” replied Jake. “I went to meet him at the store, and his Grandma said he'd gone in early this morning.”