I had a lot of fun at football practice today. The coach put me on offense and defense and I busted through the line and tackled whoever carried the ball without any trouble. Mr. Dekay, the assistant coach, said that I played good and wondered why I don’t play like that in a game. I’ll see what I can do this Saturday against the Argonauts.
Thanks for your letter, Tom. And for telling me not to give up. You sure made me see things about the tackle position I had not seen before. I was thinking about quitting, but I don’t think I will now. I think I’ll stick it out.
I wish you were here now. Gail is okay, but I think it’s more fun to have a brother in the house. There are some things you can’t talk about with a sister. Like sports. She likes football, but she would rather talk about clothes. Or the latest book.
Well, take care of yourself. Mom and Dad are fine. We all send you our love.
Boots
He took the letter downstairs and left it on the hutch.
“You can read it if you want to,” he said. “I haven’t sealed it yet.”
“We received a letter from Tom today,” said Mom. “Did you see it?”
He frowned. “No.”
“It’s on my desk,” she said. He got it and read it:
Dear Mom, Dad, Gail, and Boots,
I used to think I’d want to travel all over the world, but, believe me, once I get home I’m going to stay there. Of course, being here isn’t the kind of traveling I had in mind. We see a lot of sights. Some are interesting, some aren’t. I think you know what I mean. But there isn’t the freedom here I would want as a traveler. Well, we’re here on business. We’re not tourists.
Don’t worry about my eating. We always have a lot of chow.
In fact, don’t worry about me at all. I’m okay. I just miss you. Is it my fault that you’re the greatest family a guy could be blessed with?
Write soon. All of you. And you, too, Boots. I’m anxious to hear about the Apollos.
Love,
Tom
He refolded the letter. “You think he’s homesick, Mom?”
She smiled and shrugged. “What boy in his situation isn’t? I’m glad you answered his letter, son. Gail or I — one of us writes to him almost every week. He’d get a kick out of hearing more often from you, too.”
“Yeah. I guess he would. Well —” He glanced from his mother to his dad sitting across the room, reading a paper. “I’ve got homework to do. Then I’m going to sack out. Good night.”
“Good night, son.” They said it almost together.
He finished his homework in half an hour and went to bed. Man, he was bushed. That scrimmage practice had taken more out of him than any had ever done before.
His performance in the drills on Tuesday was almost as good as it was on Monday. Then it gradually changed. On Wednesday it wasn’t quite as good and on Thursday it was worse.
“What’s happened, Boots?” asked Coach Dekay. “You lose your gumption somewhere during the week?”
Boots shrugged. He didn’t know what to say.
“You had a lot of spirit and enthusiasm on Monday,” Coach Higgins chipped in. “Each day since then Coach Dekay and I noticed that you were slacking off. You feel okay?”
“Yes. I feel fine.”
But he didn’t. He realized now that he was feeling the same as he had felt in the beginning, when he had gone out for football and the coach had put him at the tackle position.
Why play a position he didn’t like? A position he didn’t fit into? Wasn’t that like trying to put a round peg into a square hole?
Maybe it was just luck that he did so well in practice on Monday, he thought. He would never be a good tackle. Never.