Sable Cash drove off, raising a cloud of dust. Tully came slowly back to the team. He looked at each boy in turn, ending up with his eyes on Jimmy.
“Son, Sable says you can really throw the ball. And I guess he'd know.”
Jimmy said, “Thank you, Mr. Wadell.”
“Call me Coach. That goes for all of you. And I want this clear: Each of you will get the chance to show your stuff. No favorites. True, only six can start, but I guarantee you'll all get plenty of playing time. You play offense and defense, so I'll shuttle players in and out to keep you fresh. With two talented passers, we'll find ways to use you both. We might use you at the same time now and then and drive the opposition crazy. Any questions?”
No one had questions, and so practice began.
Tully taught them pass patterns: sideline routes where a receiver could turn upfield or step out of bounds to stop the clock, hooks, two-man patterns with one receiver going deep and another cutting over the middle. He showed a swing pass to a running back with linemen pulling to block downfield.
“Here's one for you, Ben,” Tully said. “I don't suppose it's giving away secrets that you're going to be a center. Jimmy, come in for Cap and I'll explain. We scored against Bee Town with this in my playing days.”
Ben snapped the ball to Jimmy and took a step back as if to block. Jimmy faked a pitchout to Vince at halfback, pump-faked to Sam going deep, and shoveled an underhand pass to Ben, who raced up the middle.
Tully grinned. “That'll still work, I bet.”
He alternated between Jimmy and Cap at quarterback. Jimmy was good with timing patterns and short passing, but his arm wasn't up to throwing bombs; Cap saw that if Jimmy went long, he threw high floaters that anyone—receiver or defender— could get to. Still, Cap couldn't deny that Jimmy was a good ball handler who could fake a lateral and fool defenses.
Cap, on the other hand, could throw deep, and Sam could outrun defenders—if Cap didn't overthrow him and Sam could hang on to the ball. Sam was the fastest Panther but didn't have the greatest hands. Fritz Marconi looked like a powerful runner, and his solid frame suggested that he'd be a good blocker.
Cap had played enough pickup ball with Hoot Coleman to know he was shifty, could fool tacklers, and put on a burst of speed when needed. Stocky Ben Worthy was a natural center, with surprisingly good hands. Once he saw Ben's ability to catch, Tully added a play in which Ben went out ten yards and hooked. Cap's pass was slightly behind Ben, who reached back with one hand and managed to pull the ball in.
The coach applauded. “All right! We're going to throw some in your direction, for sure.”
Mick Avery, though he was short, had good moves and could catch everything coming his way. His younger brother Vince, though taller, was less coordinated, and likely to be a reserve. Steve Flynn wasn't very athletic, but he was enthusiastic, always talking it up and yelling encouragement. He'd be good to have around and might improve as a player.
“Cap!” called Tully. “Let's run Blue Streak Right again. Sam, go deep. Mick, go out eight yards and hook. Ben, drop back to block.”
The players took positions. Cap called, “Blue Streak Right, on two! Down! Set! Hut one, hut two …”
Cap dropped back three steps, pumped toward Mick, and fired downfield. Sam sprinted hard, but the ball was two feet beyond his reach. Disgusted with himself, Cap kicked the turf.
“It's okay, you'll nail it next time,” Ben said, giving Cap a pat on the back. “It's just the first day.”
Cap didn't feel better. He was in for a battle with Jimmy, who was looking very good.
Sam retrieved the ball and trotted back. He tossed the ball to Tully and grinned at Cap.
“I'll need a stepladder for those bombs.”
Cap flushed. “Maybe you could just try hustling a little more.”
Sam's grin vanished. “Don't blame me if you can't control the ball!”
Quickly, Tully stepped in. “I don't want to hear that stuff. Teammates work together.”
Cap and Sam nodded. As Sam walked away, he whispered to Jimmy, who laughed. Tully frowned at his grandson.
“Sam didn't mean anything by that, he was kidding you.”
Cap wished he could be sure. He had been looking forward to this day, but it wasn't working out the way he had hoped.
Tully worked on clear passes, using Mick and Fritz as running backs. He created an end-around play, with Cap or Jimmy faking a pitch to Fritz and tossing the ball to Sam, who came in from right end. Fritz and Mick would block. Jimmy looked better on pitchouts and laterals at first, but Cap quickly improved.
Cap's last pitchout was smooth.
“Lookin' good,” said Jimmy.
Cap was startled. It was the first time Jimmy had spoken to him.
“Thanks,” he replied. “If I'm lucky, I'll get it down as good as you have it now.”
Tully whistled the team together. “I'm holding off on defenses until tomorrow because it's hard to run them without an offense to practice against. I just figured out a way to work around our lack of players. I'll call the other coaches and see about scheduling scrimmages with other schools.”
“But what'll we do till then?” asked Vince Avery.
Cap thought a moment. “Well, we—”
“Hey, Cap, Grandpa!” called a voice. “How's it going?”
Candy Wadell waved from the side of the field where she stood with her best friend, Bobby Jo Keller. Both girls were tall and athletic, and they joined in pickup games often. Seeing them gave Cap an idea.
“Gramps, maybe Candy and Bobby Jo could help us. You know, so we could work on our plays against a whole team, or close to it.”
Sam Dracus's jaw dropped in disbelief. “Work out with girls? You serious?”
“You got any better ideas?” Cap demanded. “Candy is an athlete, she's fast, and that goes for Bobby Jo too. They can both catch passes as good as you, I bet.”
“Oh yeah?” Sam snapped.
Tully held up a hand. “Cap may have an idea there.”
“But—” Steve Flynn started to say.
“No, listen,” said Tully. “This could solve our problem. Scrimmages are useful, if I can set them up, but if we get a practice squad to work with, we'll be better off. I know these girls, and Cap is right about them. They'll both play basketball for Cow-pen next winter. I say if they're willing to help, let's be grateful for it.”
“Makes sense to me,” said Jimmy. Once again, Cap was surprised.
Fritz Marconi's face lit up. “I have an idea. My buddy Gabe Muñoz is in ninth grade now, so he's too old for our team, but he can play. I bet he'd join the practice squad. Then we'd have twelve players, so we could practice with two full teams.”
“Hey, yeah,” said Mick. “Gabe is good.”
Tully nodded. “Fritz, give your friend a call.” He beckoned to Candy and Bobby Jo and explained what he wanted. Both girls said they'd be happy to start coming to practice the next day.
Tully looked satisfied. “Well, if Gabe comes too, then we can really work. Tomorrow we go over what we did today and start learning some defensive—”
He was interrupted by a roaring engine and a squeal of brakes. Sable Cash's dusty pickup stopped by the field, and Sable hopped out. Cap heard Tully mutter something.
Sable nodded to Tully as he walked over but spoke only to his grandson. “So, Jimmy, did you get to throw?”
Cap thought that Jimmy looked uncomfortable. “Sure, Gramps. Coach had us taking turns.”
Sable gave Tully a sharp glance and turned back to Jimmy. “Really?”
“You heard him,” Tully said. “We're not finished, so why don't you—”
“You sure you wouldn't like some help?” Sable asked before Tully could finish.
Tully's smile was strained. “Like I told you, Sable, we're managing just fine.”
Candy cleared her throat, sensing the tension between the men. “Grandpa, see you tomorrow, then.”
“Thanks, hon, Bobby Jo.”
Candy's friend ran a hand through her curly blond hair. “This'll be fun. Bye!”
Sable stared at the girls as they walked away. “What's that about? What are they looking forward to?” he asked Jimmy.
“They're going to practice with us starting tomorrow. That way, we—”
“Those girls?” Sable's jaw dropped. “Practicing with you?”
“It's really a good idea, Grandpa,” Jimmy said, shooting a troubled glance at Tully. “See, we don't have enough guys to have a full offensive and defensive team, so—”
Sable snorted. “Now I've heard everything.”
“Sable, we're not done,” Tully said again. “Give us a few minutes, if you don't mind.”
Sable studied Tully for a long moment. “You and I aren't done yet either, Wadell.”
He walked slowly back to his truck. Looking over his shoulder, he called, “Jimmy, when the coach lets you go, I'll be waiting over here.”
Cap and Jimmy looked at each other, but neither one spoke.
Cap wondered to himself whether Jimmy was feeling as embarrassed as he was.