Go Long! (9 page)

John laughed and slapped Coach Wheeler five. Tiki could see that John felt good having a secret plan, something up his sleeve against a tough opponent—and the Colts were sure to be that.

“Tiki, do you see the way they overplay the run? Look how they crowd the middle. You see it?”

He ran the tape back again, and again, until Tiki could clearly see the holes develop in the defensive line.

“We're going to run some plays early to the outside, until the Colts make an adjustment. Then we'll go back to the off-tackle stuff.”

Tiki nodded excitedly. He could see just how the game plan would work, throwing the Colts off balance from the start. He looked up at Wheeler and grinned. “Got it, Coach.”

“Good.” Wheeler went on with the session, skipping
the parts of the tape that didn't apply to the small group of players in the room.

“Tiki, watch this,” said Wheeler, cueing up a particular play and running the tape. “See how quick they are off the snap? If you run straight into that line, you'll get creamed.”

Tiki nodded. He could see it was true.

“But if you wait for the play to develop and
then
make your cutback, you can break some long gains.”

When the session was over, Tiki trotted out onto the field to join the rest of his teammates, smiling a secret smile. Most of the time, he liked to run straight up the middle, behind Paco and the rest of the Eagles' big blockers. But now, having seen the tape, he couldn't wait to try out his new bag of tricks on the unsuspecting Colts.

•   •   •

“You should have stayed for the video session,” Tiki told his brother as they rode the late bus home. “It was awesome.”

“Tiki, I really don't think a new trick or two will help our season that much.”

“You're wrong, bro. You can learn a lot by watching tape of the other team—it's much better than watching our own games.”

“Less painful, you mean,” Ronde said.

“For sure. But Mr. Wheeler's really smart—he showed us just how to beat the Colts.”

“If he was that smart, he'd know how to take charge of this team, and not put up with any of Cody's baloney.”

“Who are you to talk about it?” Tiki pointed out. “You put up with it yourself!”

“So? So do you!”

Ronde turned to look out the window, and that was the end of the discussion.

Tiki shook his head. It was hard sticking up for Coach Wheeler these days. Even his own brother was against him!

“I'LL BET THEY FIRE WHEELER IF WE LOSE THIS NEXT
game,” Cody said.

He, Ronde, and about a dozen other team members were sitting at one of the long tables in the school cafeteria, eating lunch together.

“Maybe you should blow the game on purpose, just to get him fired,” Sam Scarfone joked.

“Nah,” Cody said, as though he thought Sam was serious. “That would totally tank our season.”

“You mean it's not tanked already?” Paco asked.

“Not if we go undefeated from here on in,” Cody said.

“Yeah,” Ronde said, “like that'll ever happen.”

“Not with Wheeler in charge,” said Cody. “They should fire him. He stinks.”

Tiki had just come over to their table, carrying his tray, and he heard Cody's remark.

“He does not stink,” Tiki said. “He could be a great coach, if you all gave him a chance.”

“Aw, stuff it, Barber,” Cody said. “Keep your bogus opinions to yourself.”

“I know him better than you do,” Tiki said. “I had Science class with him last year.”

“Hey, Barber,” Cody said, “do you know the difference between Science and football?”

“Cut it out, Cody,” Paco said.

“No, I mean it,” Cody insisted. “Wheeler may know how to teach a class, but he's totally lame as a coach!”

“Just because we're off to a slow start—”

“A
slow start
?” Cody repeated. “Zero and two is not slow, it's pathetic! And look who we lost to—the two worst teams in the conference!”

“
We
lost those games, not Coach Wheeler,” Tiki said.

“The buck stops with him,” Cody shot back, and everyone at the table nodded in agreement.

Everyone except Ronde. He couldn't bring himself to join the crowd against his brother. But he couldn't muster the courage to stick up for him either.

Instead, he just sat there, feeling foolish and small, while Tiki took his tray and walked off to another table.

Ronde followed him. “Tiki, wait!” he called, but Tiki kept on walking.

Finally, Ronde sat down next to his brother at an empty table in the corner.

“You're a traitor,” Tiki told him.

“I am not! I just happen to agree with them—Coach Wheeler's a bust.”

“You don't
know
what he's like,” Tiki told him. “I was at the video session Monday—you weren't.”

“So?”

“So, he's having another session this afternoon—just in case any of you all decide to come to your senses and show up.”

“We won't,” Ronde said. “Everyone thinks watching video is wack.”

“Well it's
not
,” Tiki insisted. “You come and see for yourself today.”

“I . . . I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . .”

“Because you're chicken!” Tiki said.

“Am not!”

Ronde didn't want to admit the real reason. Inside, he thought it might be cool to see your next opponent in action. But if he
did
go, the other boys would lay into him, exactly the way they were laying into Tiki.

Well, okay, maybe he
was
chicken. . . .

“Tell me you're not worried what Cody and all of them will say,” Tiki demanded. “I'm right, and you know it. Well, I've got an idea, Ronde—why don't we switch uniforms, and you go as me?”

“What?”

“Pretend you're me, and go watch the tape. I'll be you out on the field. Don't worry, man, nobody will figure it
out. And you'll get to see that Coach Wheeler is for real.”

“You know what?” said Ronde. “That idea is so crazy, it's cool. Let's do it!”

•   •   •

“Barber . . . 
Ronde
Barber,” Ronde muttered in his best James Bond voice as he slipped on Tiki's number two jersey. Tiki flashed a wide grin as he put on Ronde's number five.

It never ceased to amaze Ronde that even their best friends had trouble telling them apart. The difference was obvious to him and Tiki. Maybe everyone else just needed glasses!

Tiki, dressed as Ronde, went out to the practice field, while Ronde, dressed as Tiki, stayed behind for the video session with about ten other kids.

It was a bigger turnout than the first time, but still, not that many. Ronde felt sorry for Coach Wheeler. His new job seemed to be completely beyond him.

“Hey, Tiki,” Wheeler greeted Ronde. “Good to see you. No luck with your brother, huh?”

“Uh, no,” said Ronde, feeling the blood rush to his face. He wasn't used to lying.

“So, let's go to the videotape,” Wheeler said.

The coach skillfully pointed out the weak points in the Colts' defensive scheme. It was interesting, but Ronde started to feel impatient. He wished Wheeler would show more tape of the Colts' receivers so he could see how to defeat their moves.

“See there, Tiki?” Wheeler was saying. “Number twenty-nine, the free safety, tends to stay close to the line of scrimmage. He trusts his speed to get back in the play if it's not a run. So I'm putting in a fake handoff play where you stay in blocking position, then take the dump pass. Hopefully, the fake will cause the safety to drop back before you get the ball.”

“Um, Coach,” Ronde asked, “could we see some of their receivers?”

Coach Wheeler looked around the room. “Sorry, Tiki. None of our defensive backs chose to be here today, so I'm not going to waste our precious time on it.”

“But—”

“I know you want to help out your brother—but if he's interested, Ronde can show up here himself. I've got lots of good stuff to show him.”

Ronde bit his lip to keep from confessing the truth. He sat there, feeling like he had ants in his pants, until the video session was over.

He had tried to remember everything for Tiki, so he could share it with him later. But he wished he could have seen the
important
stuff—the players
he
had to guard!

One thing was for sure, though. Tiki had been right. Mr. Wheeler sure had a lot of great stuff to teach them!

He felt like telling everyone about it, but how could he? If he told them he'd
snuck in
, pretending to be Tiki, they'd all call him a liar and never trust him again!

•   •   •

“You were right, man,” Ronde told Tiki over dinner that night. “Those sessions are some good stuff.”

“I told you.”

“I
said
you were right. Now don't rub it in.”

“Ha!”

“What's this all about, boys?” Mrs. Barber asked.

Tiki told her the whole story, and their mom laughed out loud when she heard how they'd pretended to be each other.

“My goodness! You boys sure can make some mischief.” She shook her head admiringly. “You know, if you ever change your minds about football, you could be great actors.”

“No way, Ma,” Ronde said. “Not me.”

“Me neither,” Tiki said. “We like football way too much.”

“We'll never change our minds about that,” Ronde echoed.

“Such talented boys,” Mrs. Barber said. “I can't imagine where you got it from.”

“From you, Ma!” they both said at once.

“Me?”

“Sure!” Ronde said. “Look how great you are at everything—work, raising kids, and especially, making mac 'n' cheese!”

They all laughed, and Ronde felt much better—better
than he had since the fight between him and Tiki started.

Most of the time, Tiki was wrong and he was right, thought Ronde. But this time, it was the other way around. And he, Ronde, had been grown-up enough to admit it. That felt good.

It didn't hurt that he'd given Tiki all those good tips from the video session. Ronde had the funny feeling Tiki was going to have a big, big game on Thursday.

•   •   •

“‘
EAGLES' SEASON ON THE BRINK
,'” Tiki read as they opened the sports page of the
Roanoke Reporter
on Wednesday morning.

“What's it say?” Ronde asked.

“It says Martinsville is our most formidable opponent yet.”

“True,” Ronde agreed. “The Colts had a ten and four record last season, and they're undefeated this year. What does it say about
us
, though?”

“It says we've played up to our potential . . . that we lost to a pair of teams with losing records. . . .”

“Man, the truth hurts,” Ronde said, wincing.

“Wait, there's more. ‘Coach Wheeler insists his methods have not yet had time to take hold. He said, “Soon I believe we'll see the real Eagles out on the field.” The team's fans sure hope so.'”

“You don't have to read the rest,” Ronde said. He knew what was coming. But Tiki read it anyway.

“‘Running back Tiki Barber and several others suffered key lapses in last week's crushing loss to the Patriots of Patrick Henry Junior High. So far this season the Eagles seem to be their own worst enemy.'”

Tiki swallowed hard, and Ronde felt sorry for him. But Tiki was brave—he kept on reading.

“‘Barber was not alone in his misses. The team as a whole has simply not played like a winning team. Their talent looks good on paper, but Coach Wheeler has not yet managed to make that translate into Eagle victories. Pressure is mounting on the rookie coach to succeed along with his team.'”

“Wow,” Ronde said, shaking his head. “That's terrible. They shouldn't say things like that.”

“Why not?” Tiki said. “It's true, isn't it?”

“Well . . .”

“Don't worry, Ronde,” Tiki said. “This week, I'm gonna show them. I'm gonna show everybody!”

“That's the spirit, son!” Mrs. Barber said, giving Tiki a kiss and a hug. “You, too, Ronde. You boys play proud tomorrow, you hear me? You play proud, and turn around this season of yours!”

“We hear you, Mom!” they both said together.

TIKI FELT DIFFERENT THIS TIME, RIGHT FROM THE
opening kickoff. On the Eagles' first possession, he took the ball from Cody on third and short.

But instead of bulling straight ahead into the line as he'd been doing all season, he just stood there, watching and waiting as his blockers wrestled with the Colt rush.

There—an opening! Tiki darted through it before the surprised defenders could react. He sprinted past the middle linebacker, who leapt at him, reaching. . . .

Tiki made him miss with a quick stutter-step, then spun clockwise and headed back across the field toward the sideline. Only one more defender to beat—and Tiki turned the corner just as the pursuer's hand made a grab for his jersey.

Too late—Tiki tore loose and sprinted straight into the end zone for a touchdown, on the Eagles' first possession of the game!

His teammates encircled him, jumping up and down. “Hey, man, slap me five,” Cody said as they jogged to the
sidelines. “
That's
what I'm talkin' about! Way to run and deke!”

Tiki slapped Cody's hand, but his heart wasn't in it. That play had been designed only to gain a few yards and a first down. Tiki had turned it into a long gainer only with the help of Mr. Wheeler's videotape—the very thing Cody had been trashing all week!