The Team That Couldn't Lose
Read The Team That Couldn't Lose Online
Authors: Matt Christopher
Copyright © 1999 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
Copyright © renewed 1997 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written
permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown and Company
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and
not intended by the author.
First eBook Edition: December 2009
Matt Christopher
®
is a registered trademark of Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
ISBN: 978-0-316-09536-5
To
Coach Stan Sobus
Contents
The #1 Sports Series for Kids: MATT CHRISTOPHER
®
A
ll right, men!” yelled Coach Tom Kash. “Let’s try that play again! You guys on defense, charge in there! Your job is to try
to stop Chip from throwing the ball!”
Chip Chase wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jersey and got into position again behind center Toots Egan. It was a muggy
day. The Cayugans had been practicing for almost an hour and were getting very tired.
They needed practice, though. They needed it badly. They had scrimmaged the
Duckbills last Saturday and were slaughtered 28-0. And their first league game was this coming Saturday, just five days away.
It was the rain that had caused all the trouble. It had rained so much during the past two weeks that the team couldn’t get
together enough for practice. And the Cayugans simply had to practice as much as they possibly could. They had twenty-one
players on the roster, but too many of them knew too little about football. Chip, Splash Tuttle, and Spencer Keel were the
only three who had played football at least two years. The other guys had played only one year, or not even that.
“Down!” yelled Chip.
The linemen and the backfield men got down instantly, left arms balanced on their left knees, right hands pressed against
the short-cropped grass.
“One! Two! Three! Hip!”
Toots Egan snapped the ball. Chip took it, turned, faked a handoff to fullback Spencer Keel, then faded back. He saw Splash
running down the left side of the park, a defenseman about two yards behind him.
Chip reared back with both hands on the ball because he couldn’t grip it with one hand. His fingers were too short.
Three guys broke through the line and charged at him. He removed his left hand from the ball, then heaved the ball in the
direction of Splash Tuttle.
It was a near-perfect throw, arcing down just ahead of Splash. Splash caught it with both hands and ran hard down the field.
The man covering him couldn’t get close enough to touch him. If this were a real game, it would’ve been a touchdown.
It was the best play of the three that Coach Tom Kash had taught them. They were all simple plays. The coach didn’t think
they’d be able to perform more difficult ones.
Chip heard a shout from the sideline. “Nice pass, Chip! Good arm!”
That was Danny Livermore, the team’s manager. He was slim and short and two years younger than Chip. He wasn’t eligible to
play in the league yet, but he was allowed to help out as manager.
Chip rolled his eyes. That kid! he thought. Why does he always have to try to be my best friend?
It wasn’t that Chip didn’t like the little guy. But Danny’s hero worship of Chip was embarrassing sometimes. That wouldn’t
have been so bad, but Danny kept hoping to get Chip interested in his hobbies. Hobbies like collecting butterflies and flowers,
and going to flea markets and garage sales. He was always carrying around this crazy notebook with things pasted in it or
written down.
Chip just wasn’t keen on any of that stuff — or on spending more time with Danny.
Chip was sure that Danny could become just about anything he wanted to when he grew up. He was that smart. He didn’t look
it, but he was. He was a whiz at math and wrote compositions more easily than any kid in Chip’s grade. He was adventurous,
too, for someone his size. He had gone alone into the woods two or three times to collect leaves. There was a swamp in the
middle of the woods, but that didn’t faze Danny.
If only he didn’t try so hard, thought Chip.
“Okay, fellas,” Coach Tom Kash said. “Get around me a minute. “Got something to tell you.”
Beside him stood Phil Wayne, his assistant coach. Phil was a young man, no older than twenty-two, with short, dark hair. Although
he was well liked, he really knew very little about football.
“Boys,” Tom Kash said after the team had assembled in front of him, “I don’t know whether you’ve heard this, but some of us
at the computer plant have been transferred to other parts of the country. I regret to say that I am one of them.”
Chip stared at him.
“This is my last day with you,” the coach continued. “Phil Wayne will be your head coach from now on. I have asked Adam Quigley,
Firehose’s dad, to assist him, and he says he’ll be glad to. Phil played football for two years in high school, and so did
Mr. Quigley. I don’t expect that you’ll win every game in the league, but with a lot of hard work and cooperation — and if
you listen to Mr. Wayne and Mr. Quigley — I don’t see why you can’t win at least a couple.”
He smiled. “You’re only playing six games, so that would be thirty-three and one-third percent. Not a bad average, really,
considering
that most of you ballplayers are about as green as Phil’s sweatshirt.”
“My only request now is that you call me Coach or Phil, not Mr. Wayne,” Phil said. “Mr. Wayne is my father!” The boys laughed.
Chip saw Phil grin at Mr. Kash.
“You’ve learned three plays fairly well,” said Mr. Kash. “It’s too bad that we’ve had so much rain. I think we would’ve had
a better team. Practice every day from now on — with Fridays off as rest days.” He smiled. “Well, boys, this is it. It’s been
a lot of fun. I’m awfully sorry I can’t be with you any longer. I love football. I love to coach it, especially to a bunch
of hardworking boys like you. Maybe I’ll stop and see you play one of these days. Good luck!”
Some of the boys stood staring at him as if his words had glued them to the ground. Others ran up to him and shook his hand
and told him how much they’d miss him.
Chip was one of those who couldn’t move. Finally, he did. He went up to Mr. Kash and shook his hand and said that he was sorry
to see him go.
Chip turned away, feeling as blue as anyone could feel. With Phil Wayne as head coach and Mr. Quigley as assistant coach,
he couldn’t see how the Cayugans could possibly win a game. As a matter of fact, he predicted that the Cayugans would lose
every single one of them.
C
hip didn’t care about going to practice on Tuesday. With Mr. Kash gone, the team would be nothing. Neither Phil Wayne nor
Mr. Quigley knew enough about football to coach a team. All the coaches in the league were supposed to have the qualifications
of knowing football and how to coach, but neither Phil nor Mr. Quigley had.
The trouble was that there weren’t enough men in town who could qualify. Those who could already had teams to coach, except
Bart Franks, the former college football star of Notre Dame. He wasn’t able to coach,
though, because he was a salesman and on the road most of the time.
Chip wished his father could coach. But Mr. Chase had never played football. He knew even less about it than Phil Wayne did.
He enjoyed the game, though. He had seen all the games last year, and he enjoyed watching the pro games on TV.
Anyway, Chip’s dad was plenty busy with other things. He and Mrs. Chase were co-presidents of the PTA. He was also secretary
of the Lions Club and chairman of a tool designers’ organization. He couldn’t find time to coach a football team even if he
knew how.
Chip attended practice only because he didn’t want to let Phil Wayne or Mr. Quigley down. He went over to get Splash Tuttle,
and the two of them walked together to the park.
“Hi, Chip! Hi, Splash!” Danny Livermore called, cracking a wide grin.
Chip gave a half-wave.
“What a nut,” Splash muttered. “Smiles no matter if we lose every game in the league.”
Phil came over.
“Hi, fellas,” he said. “Been waiting for you. I want the backfield men to drill on pass plays and line plunges, so put on
your helmets and let’s get into our positions.” He turned and yelled to the players running around on the field, throwing
and catching footballs. Nine players broke away from the group and came trotting forward.
Two of them were fullback Spencer Keel and right halfback Gordie Poole. The other seven were linemen. Chip saw Mr. Quigley
working with a group near the side of the field. He saw the quarterback fumble a pass
from center, then stumble all over himself trying to pick it up.
Chip looked away, shaking his head. What a sad-looking bunch
they
were!
“Line up, men,” Phil ordered. He named off the linemen, then glanced over the men in the backfield. Mr. Kash had taught the
backfield men the basic formation, so the boys got into their positions without difficulty.
Phil looked up from his notebook. “Can you remember what Play Forty-two is?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Chip. “I hand off the ball to Spence and he takes off between left guard and center.”
Phil nodded. “Right. Okay, let’s try it.”
They tried it — again and again. Since Mr. Kash had taught them the play, they must have run it a million times. It was the
same with the other plays in which Spence
carried the ball. He played fullback because he was the biggest and hardest to bring down. But that didn’t mean that the play
was successful each time. It wasn’t.
They tried the pass plays, which were a sad thing, too. Chip was the only member of the team who could throw a football well.
Therefore only he did the passing.
He threw a long one down the left side of the field to the left end and then down the right side of the field to the right
end, and both times the receivers missed the ball. Phil had them try the play until both ends caught the passes thrown to
them. By that time Chip’s arm was beginning to ache. Boy, what a couple of crummy ends, he thought.
Phil exchanged players on the line with the group being coached by Mr. Quigley, then had the two squads scrimmage against
each other. Since there were only twenty-one players on the Cayugans team, Mr. Quigley
had to be satisfied with ten men. Both squads were given opportunities to carry the ball. Chip noticed that the squad he was
on wasn’t much good, but the other squad was even worse.
He was glad when Phil finally shouted, “Okay, boys! That’s it for tonight! See you tomorrow!”
“Maybe,” Chip heard Splash say. “Oh, I guess I’ll be here,” Splash added as he met Chip’s eyes.
Chip didn’t say it, but that was how he felt about it, too.
W
hen five-thirty rolled around on Wednesday and Chip didn’t put on his uniform, his mom looked at him questioningly. “Isn’t
there football practice tonight, Chip?” she asked.
“Yes, but —” Chip hated to tell her.
“But, what?”
“Well, Mr. Kash is gone, and Phil Wayne and Mr. Quigley are coaching us. Those guys don’t know anything about football. I
don’t want to be on a team that’s going to be skinned every game.”
“Oh? Don’t you think you should give Mr.
Wayne and Mr. Quigley a chance to see what they can do?”
“I’ve seen what Phil can do. And I don’t think Mr. Quigley can do any better.”
He knew that was a poor attitude to take. He expected his mom to tell him so. But she only looked at him silently. She didn’t
have to tell him.
He stuck to his decision. He wasn’t going to practice — today, tomorrow, nor any other time. He would tell Phil Wayne he had
quit the team as soon as he saw him. By that time, he’d think of a good reason to give Phil. He would have to return the uniform
to Phil, too.
Mr. Chase came home a few minutes before six. He, too, wondered why Chip hadn’t gone to football practice. Chip told him the
same thing he had told his mom. Chip expected his dad to say that it was a poor attitude to take. But he didn’t. He probably
figured that Chip was old enough now to know that it was a poor attitude without telling him.