Tully ran practice that day, as usual. But now that Tully had accepted him as an assistant, Sable seemed to feel he had the right to comment on everything the Panthers did.
Sometimes it would be about Tully's choice of strategy: “You better hope Sandville doesn't have any audibles to call at the line, or they'll read that defense, change plays, and short-pass you to death, with the middle open like that.”
Sometimes it would be about the way a player carried out an assignment. Many of these comments were aimed at Cap, and they were always just loud enough for Cap to hear: “The boy just loves those bombs. As soon as a defense reads that tendency, they'll send in rushers, hurry the passes or play soft against sweeps and short gains, and look for the bomb.”
The one he never criticized was Jimmy.
Then, just when Tully was about to explode, Sable would give some good advice. After Candy beat Sam and caught a sideline pass from Jimmy, Sable went to the unhappy boy. “Sam, if you drop back three more yards as she comes off the line and watch her belt buckle, you can anticipate her cut. A receiver can fake with his head or with his feet, but he can't fake with the middle of his body.”
Which, Cap saw, was valuable advice.
Even with the tension it was a good practice, and Cap saw that the Panthers were beginning to jell as a team and become familiar with the techniques of six-man football.
The happiest moment of the day came when Hoot tried to kick field goals through a pair of makeshift goalposts that Tully had had put up. Cap and Jimmy took turns as the holder.
Hoot's first try, from twenty yards away, flew way off to the right. He was kicking the old-fashioned way, approaching the ball straight on rather than soccer-style, from the side.
“Don't look up before you kick,” Tully said. “I guarantee you, the goalposts won't move. Look at where you want the ball to go before the snap, then keep your head down. Don't worry about rushers—your blockers will keep them away, so don't get distracted.”
Hoot's next kick sailed through the uprights, with yards to spare.
Tully and Sable clapped and the others cheered.
“Way to go!” Tully shouted. “Want to try moving the ball back a little?”
Hoot kicked one of two attempts from about the fifteen-yard line and was nearly automatic from point-after range.
“Keep working on the kicks,” Sable said, “and you might add five or ten yards to your range. Those placekicks are valuable.”
Hoot was good on kickoffs too, but the best punter on the team was Cap. He could sail a punt high so that defenders could reach a receiver quickly.
After working for a while on kickoffs, punts, and returns, Tully blew his whistle.
“Good work today, everyone! Cap, having a quarterback who can punt means we might be able to try quick kicks sometime and catch 'em unawares. You can pick up a lot of yards with a quick kick.”
Cap suddenly felt a rush of excitement. Did that mean he was going to be the starter?
“If your offense moves the ball the way it ought to,” muttered Sable, “you shouldn't need to quick kick.”
Tully didn't say anything in reply.
“See everyone here tomorrow at the usual time, ready to work!” Tully called. “We have two practices left before the scrimmage in Bee Town, so let's make the most of them.”
“Hey, guys,” called Ben, “who's up for going over to the Spot for something to eat?”
The Spot was Cowpen's snack shop and diner, and the main hangout for local kids.
“Cool!” Mick Avery said.
Several other players sounded eager to go, and Bobby Jo cleared her throat.
“Are practice squadders welcome too?”
“Sure,” Sam said, grinning. “You guys are part of this team!”
Jimmy was smiling happily and looked over at Sable. “Gramps, okay if I go? Someone can drop me off later.”
Cap nodded. “We can give Jimmy a ride, right, Grandpa?”
“No problem,” replied Tully.
Sable shook his head. “I think you'll have to take a rain check on that, Jim.”
His grandson's face fell. “But—”
“You have chores to do at home,” Sable explained. “There'll be other times.”
“Okay,” Jimmy mumbled, not looking at the other players.
Cap and Ben exchanged a glance, both feeling sorry for Jimmy.
“Sam, I'm supposed to drop you off at home, too,” Sable added. “I had strict orders from your mom.”
“Uh, maybe I should get home too,” Fritz said.
“Well, I'm going, for sure,” Hoot said.
The group at the Spot included six of the nine Panthers and the three practice-squad members as well. But there was a little cloud over the gathering.
Afterward, Hoot and Ben stood with Cap before heading home.
“Why'd Mr. Cash have to do that?” Ben asked, looking angry. “It wasn't right! Jimmy wanted to come with us.”
“He surely did,” Cap agreed. “And so did Sam, and I bet Fritz would have come too, if they had.”
“Cap, what's the deal with Mr. Cash and your grandpa?” Hoot asked.
Cap shrugged. “Beats me. I know they used to play against each other a million years ago. It sounds like Mr. Cash still has it in for Grandpa, even now.”
“Your grandpa is a nice man,” Ben said. “But, you know, he doesn't exactly love Mr. Cash, either.”
Cap nodded wearily. “Guess he doesn't. I don't get it—all this about some old games from way back! I hope they can get over it.”
“Me, too,” Hoot agreed. “They're our coaches, and we're a team. They have to work together.”
Cap sighed. “Maybe I'll talk to Grandpa tonight and ask him whether he and Mr. Cash can get along better. We have enough to worry about without our coaches getting on each other like that.”
“Good idea,” Hoot said. “Could be they don't realize that it's making the rest of us uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, and it could hurt the team,” Ben added.
“Well, I'll sure give it a shot,” Cap answered.
But in his own mind he was asking himself, If Grandpa picks me to start, are he and Mr. Cash going to have a war?