Danny spoke without thinking. “Yes, sir.”

“Go on then.” Coach Kinen waved him onto the field.

Danny snapped his chinstrap as he jogged out toward the huddle. His legs were stiff from just standing in the rain, and he wondered how wise he’d been to jump into the fray without warming up. He joined the circle around Jace.

The quarterback blew some water off his lips and peered up at Danny. “Give us something, Danny. Trips right twenty-eight power sweep on two. Ready . . . break!”

Danny lined up and looked over the defense. Linebackers with mud-smeared faces snarled at him through the rain. Jace had begun his cadence. Danny reminded himself of the play as the ball was snapped. He took off to the right side, slipped, and regained his footing in time to see the pitch sail past him and skid to a spinning stop in the mud.

The defense shouted, “Fumble!”

Danny tried to redirect and slipped again. An outside linebacker shot past him, belly-flopping on the ball. The impact spit the ball sideways toward Danny. He scooped it up and began to run the opposite way.

As soon as he turned, he got a mouthful of a Layton Forks shoulder pad. He saw stars and his back struck the ground with a thud. He lay there clutching the ball, breathless in the mud, blinking up into the rainy gray mist.

“You get up. You get up, Danny,” his father said sternly. “I don’t care if you never even make it to the varsity, but you get up when you get knocked down.”

Danny was halfway to his feet without thinking, and he looked around. He’d heard his father’s voice. It frightened him, but it also warmed his heart.

“You gotta run north and south in the mud. Never run for the sideline. You run straight up with your head high and you keep your feet under you. Keep them pumping. I know, that’s not how you’re supposed to run—unless you’re in the mud. If it’s ever a mess like today, you keep your feet and you’ll tear it up while everyone else is slip-sliding away.”

Danny looked around him to see if anyone else had heard his father’s speech, the same one he’d given Danny the morning of his first Pop Warner game in the mud. All he saw was Cupcake. “You okay, Danny?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Danny!” Coach Kinen was screaming from the sideline. “Get your head out of your butt or I’ll yank you too!”

Danny nodded that he’d heard and got into the huddle.

Jace’s look accused Danny of negligence on the last play.

“I slipped.” It was all Danny could say.

“Okay,” Jace said, “trips left twenty-seven power sweep on one, re—”

“Wait!” Danny shouted, holding out both hands to stop Jace from breaking the huddle. “Don’t run that. Run twenty-one counter trap.”

Jace removed his mouthpiece so he could be heard more clearly. “Danny, I don’t call the plays, Coach Kinen does, and he called twenty-seven sweep.”

“I’m telling you, just listen . . . it’s too sloppy. We can’t run to the outside, but I can take it up the middle. You gotta run north and south in the mud. Please, Jace, give me a chance. I know I can do this, but a sweep won’t work.”

“I’m not changing the play. I can’t,” Jace said.

“Okay, but I can. I’ll take total responsibility. This is all on me. You guys are witnesses. I told you I won’t run anything but the trap.”

Jace looked around the huddle.

Bug said, “Do it.”

Carmody said, “Go for it.”

Cupcake said, “Why not?”

Jace huffed and shook his head in doubt. “Well, if something doesn’t work, this is my last rodeo with Coach Kinen anyway.

“Okay, trips left twenty-one counter trap on one, ready . . . break!”

Danny lined up behind his quarterback. He wiggled his feet into the mud for a hold. Jace called the cadence and took the snap. Danny began pumping his legs as he moved forward.

He ran straight up and down, his legs pumping like pistons.