The Argonauts kicked off. This time the ball sailed end over end to Duck Farrell in the left corner. He ran the ball back up the field, weaving and dodging would-be tacklers, and was downed on the thirty-eight.
Bud pulled off a pass play first thing, heaving a bomb to left end Eddie Baker. Eddie caught it past the fifty-yard line and ran it all the way. An Argonaut safety man was less than two yards behind him but never could catch him. Leo kicked the extra point and the score was Argonauts 14, Apollos 7.
The cheers of the Apollo fans rang out loud and clear, but the quarter went by with the score unchanged. Twice Tony Alo tore through the line and tackled an Argonaut ball carrier for losses of two yards and four yards each. Boots tried to ignore him, telling himself he didn’t care how well Tony played. For all he cared Tony could play every minute of every game.
During halftime Duck asked him how he felt. He thought Boots was sick. Jackie, Leo, and Eddie wondered, too. “I’m okay,” he told them. “I’m fine.”
Coach Higgins and Coach Dekay had the boys assemble with them just beyond the north goal. The coaches of the Argonauts had their boys assemble with them just past the south goal. Here we go, thought Boots. A talk from the coaches: Now, listen men! You played like a bunch of clowns that first half! I want you to go out that second half and blah, blah, blah …
But it wasn’t like that at all. All Coach Higgins said was, “You did fine, boys. They just played a little better than you did, that’s all. You know how to play football. Do the best that’s in you. That’s all Coach Dekay and I ask.”
Five minutes before the second half started both teams got on the field and did jumping exercises to limber up their arms and legs. At last the whistle blew to start the second half and Boots put on his helmet and snapped the button. He was ready to go.
“Hold it, Boots,” said Coach Higgins. “Tony’s starting at right tackle. The rest of the lineup remains the same.”
Boots stared at him. He couldn’t believe it. Sure, he hadn’t felt like playing that first half. But he felt like playing now. He wanted to, now.
Duck was beside him. They looked at each other.
“I don’t understand it, Duck,” said Boots. “I’ve always started.”
Duck smiled. “Maybe one of these days you’ll find out that you just can’t have your way all the time, Boots. You think that Coach doesn’t know you’re sore because you can’t play in the backfield? Don’t be a lunkhead. Just because you’re a big kid and can knock any one of us on his can whenever you feel like it has made you think you’re King Tut. Well, on the football field you’re just Boots Raymond. You’ve got a job on the line, and whether you’re good at it or not depends on you. Nobody else. And if you don’t give it your best, Coach Higgins will give somebody else a chance to do it. And you know what? Tony Alo isn’t doing bad at all. If I were you I’d watch out for him. He just might take over your position permanently.”
By the time Duck got through talking, Boots’s face was almost as red as a beet. A couple of times he wanted to tell Duck to shut up his big mouth, but he didn’t. He knew Duck was right. Every word the guy said was just as true as day.
The third quarter went by with him watching it from the bench. Tony played pretty good ball. Now and then Smokey Mills or one of the Argonaut halfbacks zipped by him, but he made a few tackles and hustled every minute. He didn’t have the weight that Boots did, though. Nor the speed.
He’s got the fight, the spirit, thought Boots. And I don’t.
The Argonauts scored again in the fourth, but failed to kick the extra point. 20 to 7. They kicked off to the Apollos and Bud ran it back to the Argonauts’ forty-eight. His first signal call was for an end-around run by Jackie Preston. On the next play Jackie took the handoff from Bud, started toward left end, then handed off to Duck Farrell. The play momentarily fooled the Argonauts who were going after Jackie till they were almost upon him. By then Duck had crossed the scrimmage line and had picked up another first down before a safety man nailed him.
First and ten and the ball was on the Argonauts’ twenty-six. Boots rose from the bench and looked at Coach Higgins. He hoped to catch the coach’s eye, hoped that the coach would tell him to go in and send out Tony Alo even though Tony was playing excellent ball.
Leo Conway picked up three yards on a through-tackle run, and the two-minute warning signal was called. Two minutes, thought Boots. Maybe time enough to score a touchdown, but not time enough to win the ball game.
He got to thinking about his poor playing during the first half and could have kicked himself. If any one guy was to blame for losing the game it was he.
Leo plowed through the line for another gain, this time for four yards. Third and three. Again Leo plunged through right tackle. This time he was stopped cold. Fourth and three.
Bud passed. Pete Ellis caught it just beyond the scrimmage line and was downed almost instantly. But it was another first down and the Apollo fans shouted like crazy.
The seconds ticked off. One minute to go. The ball was on the Argonauts’ fifteen-yard line. Leo crashed through left tackle for two yards, then Duck ran deep around left end and was tackled on the eight. Third and three.
Bud smashed through on a quarterback sneak and scored. Then Leo kicked the extra point. Argonauts 20, Apollos 14.
Thirty seconds to go. Leo kicked off. The Argonauts carried the ball back to their twenty-nine. They moved it across midfield when the whistle blew. It was over.
“I suppose you’d like to pound the heck out of me, wouldn’t you?” said Duck as he and Boots started off the field.
Boots grinned. “Why? For what you said to me?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I don’t. But you got guts telling me all that. Nobody else has. Except Bo Higgins and Mr. Dekay, but they might not say it the way you did.”
“It isn’t guts,” said Duck.
Boots frowned. “Oh, no? What is it, then?”
“Being friends, that’s what. I would never have said that to you if I didn’t like you, Boots. You’re a nut, but I like you.”
“I like you, too, Duck. I must be nuts. But I do.”
Mom and Dad and Gail received letters from Tom during the week. Both were short, hardly filling one page. Both were very much the same. “I’m thinking of you all the time,” he wrote in Mom and Dad’s letter. “When I get home I’m going to eat hot-dogs and hamburgers and listen to my favorite records till both my stomach and eardrums burst. See you. Soon, I hope.”
In Gail’s letter he wrote: “Hi, Gail. How’s my favorite girl? You know what I’m hungry for? Hotdogs and hamburgers. I’m going to stuff myself with them when I get home. And keep the CD player in prime condition. I haven’t heard good music since I left …”
“He’s homesick,” said Mom. “He doesn’t say it but it’s in every word he writes.”
“All the boys over there are,” said Dad. “Heck, it’s natural.”
Boots didn’t think it was natural, though, when no letters came the next week. And none the week after that. Mom and Dad got worried. And so did he and Gail.