The Apollos had intrasquad scrimmage on Thursday and Friday, and Boots Raymond was with the team both days.
He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t made up his mind yet what to do, but he knew that the truth was he didn’t have the nerve to tell Coach Bo Higgins he wanted to quit.
The coach wouldn’t just stand there and take back the uniform without saying something. “Why?” he’d say. “Why are you quitting?”
“Because I don’t want to play tackle,” Boots would have to answer. “I want to play quarterback.”
If his life depended on it he couldn’t see himself looking into the coach’s eyes and admitting that.
Coach Higgins worked with the offense and Coach Dekay with the defense. It had taken almost all week for the boys to call Mr. Dekay “Coach.” A lot of the boys had known him a long time and had always called him “Mr. Dekay.”
Boots played both on the offensive and defensive squads. Opposite him was Tony Alo, who alternated positions with him. Tony was tall and wiry and much stronger than he looked. He bucked with his head and his shoulders, and it took all of-Boots’s strength to push Tony back, to control him. Once Tony caught him off balance and shoved him back on his rear, at which Tony smiled proudly and said, “Thought you were tough, fat stuff.”
The remark rattled Boots. He didn’t like to be called “fat stuff,” “fatso,” or any other name referring to his build. But he laughed it off. He knew as well as Tony did that he could lick Tony any day of the week. He had done it.
Forty-three. Twenty-two. Thirty-four.
Forty-three meant that number four, the right halfback, was carrying the ball through the three hole, the hole between left tackle and left guard. Twenty-two meant that the left halfback was carrying the ball through the two hole, the hole between the center and the right guard. Thirty-four meant that the fullback was carrying the ball through the four hole, the hole between the right tackle and the right guard. Those were only a few of the plays Bo Higgins was teaching the team.
They worked on the plays and it seemed to Boots that most of them were on his side of the line. One of the backs was running either through the hole at his left side or through the hole at his right. Some were pass plays to either the right or left ends, but the blocking and the pushing didn’t let up on the line. Boots saw no fun in it at all.
Suddenly he thought of something simple he could do without getting banged up. He could do it only when his side had the ball, but even then he’d save a lot of wear and tear on his body. It seemed so simple and great he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
The next time his squad got the ball, he faced Tony Alo with fierce determination in his eyes. They stood face to face. Boots had discovered by now that Tony didn’t fear him one bit. Most of the time Boots would roll over him like a bulldozer, but Tony would come back strong as ever. Sometimes stronger.
“Down!” barked quarterback Bud Davis. “Set! Hut! Hut! Hut!”
Just as Tony started to charge, Boots fell flat on his stomach and curled his arm up over his face. He felt Tony fall on him, and he smiled against the grass that tickled his chin.
The coach’s whistle shrilled and Boots got up. He saw that Duck was lying on the ground two yards behind the line of scrimmage, with Tony Alo’s arms around his waist.
“Boots,” said Bo, staring at him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m all right.”
“Okay, offense. Huddle.”
Quickly the offensive team formed a U-shaped huddle with Coach Higgins and quarterback Bud Davis crouched at the mouth of the U. “Try forty-three,” advised the coach. “Know what that one is, Jackie?”
“Yes, sir,” replied right halfback Jackie Preston. “I take the handoff from Bud and break through the three hole.”
“Right.” The coach slapped his hands once hard. “Let’s go!”
This time Boots didn’t fall on his stomach. He stood on his feet, ready to block Tony Alo. Suddenly Tony dodged past him and broke through the line. Boots then turned to block an oncoming linebacker. He stumbled and felt the guy’s knees strike him in the ribs.
The whistle blew and Boots saw that Jackie had made a gain of four yards.
“Okay. That’s it for today,” said the coach.
It was the best announcement Boots had heard all day. Both his shoulders ached, and his ribs where he had been kicked.
“Man, what a stupid position,” he said as he and Bud and Duck headed for home and a hot shower. “Every bone in my body aches.”
Duck laughed. “Quit complaining. Look what that poor guy playing opposite you went through.”
Boots grinned through the sweat drying on his dirt-smudged face. “Yeah,” he said, thinking about Tony Alo. “Guess I did shake him up a little.”
He’d give it one more day, he thought. One more day and then he’d tell Coach Bo Higgins he was finished. Football wasn’t for him.
When he arrived home from school on Friday Mom told him that there was a letter from Tom.
“Read it,” she said, her green eyes sparkling as she smiled at him. She was barely an inch taller than he.
I miss my drums. One of my buddies had a radio which we’d listen to, but the batteries wore out and we haven’t been able to get new ones. It gets very lonesome at times. I miss the fights I had with Gail and wrestling with Boots. I suppose by the time I get back home he’ll be able to pin me in nothing flat.
I’m happy to hear he went out for football. It’s a good contact sport and should prepare him in many ways for the future.
What position is he playing? Tell him to drop me a letter and tell me all about it. I was a flanker for good old Warren High. Remember?
I’ll write again soon.
Love,
Tom