Chapter 6

The boys finally got to suit up in full pads Saturday morning. After the first few practices, the players were dragging and everybody’s legs were heavy and hurting. But the players’ attitude changed as they finally got to put on pads and hit somebody.

Most of the players had the blocking and tackling down. But Cole was making sure they got a crash course over the first few practices and to teach the others the right way to block and tackle.

Cole was old school when it came to football. He felt the best players were the ones who would hit, get back up and keep hitting until the coaches or officials told them to quit. So he gave the players every opportunity to hit, quickly discovering which players would hit and who wouldn’t.

There was always the chance somebody might get hurt with the physical practices he put his team through, but Cole did not believe a team would hit in games if it didn’t in practice. Cole knew a lot of coaches didn’t like to have their teams hit and that was fine. It was better for him, actually. His boys hit almost every day in practice and had no problem hitting opponents during games.

His practices were not as physical as they once were, but the pads would pop.

He got them hitting quickly, lining them up in tackling drills right off and following with blocking drills. Every drill was centered on using these new pads and the players seemed to like it for the most part.

While the quarterbacks were off limits to hitting on most teams, that wasn’t the case with Petros. His quarterbacks were not treated special in any way. They weren’t given a special jersey telling other players not to touch them and the coaches didn’t go with a quick whistle if it looked like a quarterback was fixing to get plastered.

The other teams hit them in games and the quarterbacks would not know how to take a hit if they never took one. Plus, Cole didn’t want his guys tentative about hitting a quarterback, especially in a game.

Lucky got his welcome to the varsity, courtesy of Derwin. The senior linebacker flew through the line and blasted Lucky after he faked a handoff to Happy.

It was a good hit by probably the hardest hitter on the Panthers’ team. But it did more good than harm. Lucky had wondered if he was big enough and tough enough to take a hit from varsity players. He knew nobody hit harder than Derwin, but he was able to get up and go again. Lucky had gotten hit many times before and realized it was not much different. The players were bigger and stronger, but so was he. Plus, it was usually hard for an opponent to get a good lick on him because of his quickness.

Later, while playing defense against the starting offense, Lucky got the chance to even the score. It was a full-speed scrimmage with the first-team offense going against the second-team defense. Gary was quarterback for the offense and faked a handoff, dropped back to pass and was surveying the field to see if anybody was open. The defense had the receivers covered and he took off. Lucky was playing the rover position, which basically gave him the opportunity to line up wherever he chose. As soon as Gary started running, Lucky went after him.

The quarterback never saw it coming and paid the price. Lucky nailed him from the side, hitting Gary hard enough he almost flipped over backwards.

The other players on defense roared, of course. Ichabod almost swallowed his whistle. Some people had wondered if Lucky was aggressive enough to hit. Ichabod knew nobody would argue that again.

Ichabod also knew there were not many players who could make that play and deliver a blow like that.

He always thought Lucky would be a good one, but his opinion just went up a few notches. Ichabod wanted to get excited also, but knew it would not look good with the Panthers’ starting quarterback struggling to get up.

The defense huddled, watching to see if Gary cleared the cobwebs. Stub was in charge of checking on injuries when Doc Hardy wasn’t available and checked out Gary, making sure everything was still attached and in working order.

“Nice hit,” Ichabod whispered, trying not to show too much emotion.

Happy came up behind him and pounded Lucky on the shoulder pads.

“Hit him like that a few more times and you won’t have to worry about beating him out,” he mentioned.

Lucky ignored that comment, not wanting anybody to think he tried to hurt Gary with the hit. He just did what was expected and Gary happened to be the player who received the hit.

Gary was still a little shaken but made his way to the huddle. He had a headache but was determined to continue playing.

The next play, the offense tried to get even. Lucky was fighting off a block when Garrett Long, a senior lineman, came in hard and low, a block that would be a penalty in a game. Lucky saw it coming at the last second and fortunately did not have a leg planted or his knee would have been torn up.

Garrett was quite pleased with himself, even if the coaches weren’t.

“That’s not how my linemen play,” yelled Stub, who had seen the play. “That would’ve cost us fifteen yards in a game!”

“He hit our guy,” Garrett countered.

“Yeah, but there wasn’t anything illegal about it. And he wasn’t trying to hurt anybody.”

As the offense came to the line before the next play, Happy swapped places so he could line up in front of Garrett.

“Don’t do that again,” Happy warned. “You want to mess with him, you’ll have to go through me.”

Garrett was surprised a sophomore would have the gall to talk to him like that. It took a few seconds for him to respond.

“That’s really got me worried,” he answered, but a little nervousness had crept in.

Garrett had seen Happy pump iron. He knew how strong and tough Happy was and that the sophomore was not somebody to mess with.

Happy waited for the snap and ignored his assignment, going after Garrett and delivering a fierce blow. He let the running back get by and Ichabod was on his case, but Happy did not care. He never liked Garrett, who always picked on the younger guys, and felt like the hit was worth the coach chewing on him.

Until now, nobody could stop Garrett from picking on the younger guys. Happy was determined that would change.

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Unlike most coaches, Cole did not film practices and doubted it did much good. He wished somebody had filmed practice that day, just so he could see Lucky’s hit on Gary.

Stub walked into the office, whistling a tune. He had checked on Gary and decided there was not anything to worry about. Gary would have a headache for a while but did not have a concussion or any broken bones. Cole and Ichabod were at their desks, drinking water and trying to cool down. The air conditioner was whirling away in the background, but not putting off enough cold air.

“How’s Gary?” Cole asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Stub answered. “Still a little wobbly but he’ll live.”

“That was a good hit,” Ichabod commented. “We’re gonna have to get Lucky some playing time.”

Cole sighed deeply.

“Don’t get in too big of a hurry,” Cole advised. “He’s only a sophomore.”

“He doesn’t play like no sophomore,” Stub suggested.

“You just used a double negative,” Ichabod pointed out.

“A double what?”

“A double negative.”

“I don’t got a clue what the heck you’re talking about,” Stub countered, a little flustered. “Lucky’s not like many sophomores we’ve had.”

Cole opened a notebook and handed each coach a roster for the scrimmage that evening. It was the lineup for the annual Black and White scrimmage. It was basically the first team going against the second team, playing in game-like conditions.

It was a tradition at Petros to play this game. Cole did it every year and everybody looked forward to it so much that every seat on the home side would be filled, along with most of the seats on the visitor’s side.

Ichabod would coach the Black team, which consisted mainly of the starters. Stub was in charge of the White team, the reserves. The two coaches were as competitive as any player. Their record stood at 5-5 as Cole alternated them each year between coaching the starters or the subs. The subs had never won the game, of course, and were usually pummeled.

Ichabod was still a little miffed from the previous year because he felt Stub ran the score up and wanted revenge.

“You’re going to pay for last year,” Ichabod warned.

“You need to just worry about winning,” Stub countered. “I’ve got a few surprises ready for you.”

Ichabod knew that and started worrying. There was no telling what Stub would call or do. He was just glad most teams’ offensive coordinators were not as clever as Stub.

“Okay, what’s the spread?” Stub asked.

They both looked at Cole, the only neutral observer in the game. He watched the game from the pressbox and kept his observations to himself until after the game.

“The current spread is Black team plus twenty-eight points,” Cole stated. “The bookies still haven’t given me the over and under.”

Ichabod looked horrified, almost like he just saw a ghost walk in the room.

“That’s a little high,” he complained.

If it was five points, Ichabod would complain. The winning team had to cover the spread or the coach lost the bet and had to buy lunch all week. It was not just the money, even though Ichabod was a notorious cheapskate, but having to listen to Stub all year.

The starters would win, of course, but since Cole started putting out a spread to keep things interesting, the coaches bet lunch for a week on the outcome and the scrimmage grew even more important.

The point spread was just a little joke and supposed to stay in this room, but it always got out, usually thanks to Stub, and Cole knew some fans actually wagered more than a week’s lunch on the outcome.

“Ooh, baby,” Stub said. “I can’t wait for the chicken-fried steak on Monday!”

“Don’t count your chickens until they hatch,” Ichabod countered. He hated to lose almost as bad as Cole, probably even more so when it came against Stub. Plus, a meal never tasted as good as when Stub paid.

Chapter 7