The cold weather of November had arrived, but the competition was heating up. It was playoff time.

  “Make no mistake, the Pembina Panthers are a good team,” Coach said. He stood with a clipboard in the middle of the locker room and addressed his troops. “They wouldn’t be playing against us in today’s semi-final game if they weren’t.”

  Coach seemed relaxed. But after his outbursts in the last few weeks the team knew this was the calm before the storm. If the Warriors fell behind in the game the players didn’t know what to expect. They had seen both sides of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

  The players were still putting on their uniforms, but everyone stopped to listen. They knew Coach demanded complete attention.

  “The Panthers play like a bunch of wild cats,” he said. “Who thinks we can tame them?”

  “We can, Coach!” Gunner called from the back.

  “Who can?” Coach asked.

  The entire team shouted as one. “We can!”

  “Is defeat an option?”

  The players shot right back. “No way, Coach!”

  “That’s right. We’re winning this game no matter what. We’re going to take it to them right from the opening kick-off.”

  “What’s the game plan, Coach?” Keegan asked.

  “There are four ways we’re going to beat the Panthers, so listen up. Bulldog, that means you.”

  “I’m all ears,” Bulldog said.

  “And butt!” Sanjay yelled.

  The room exploded with laughter.

  Bulldog stood up from the bench and wiggled his backside.

  “That’s the worst dance I’ve ever seen,” Jamal said, grinning.

  “No,” Bulldog said, now wiggling in a circle, “this is the worst dance you’ve ever seen.”

  When the laughter died down, Coach held up one finger. He hadn’t even cracked a smile. “First, our offence has to be razor sharp. Every pass by our quarterback needs to be on the money.”

  “My arm feels strong,” Keegan said, faking a throw.

  Coach held up a second finger. “Our receivers have to haul in every ball.”

  “My fingers are like glue,” Anthony Lee, the flanker, called out.

  Coach held up a third finger. “Our defence has to be rock solid.”

  “We’ll break up every pass,” Sanjay said fist-bumping with Jamal.

  Bulldog started in, “We might bend . . .”

  “. . . but we’ll never break,” Gunner finished.

  Coach raised a fourth and final finger. “And last, we have to watch number forty-four. Tyrone Hill is the Panthers’ star running back. He’s big, he’s tough, and he can gallop faster than a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby. He’s gained over a hundred yards rushing each game this season. He’s the most powerful weapon the Panthers have. And they’re going to launch him again this afternoon. We have to do whatever it takes to stop him. Am I making myself clear, linebackers?”

  “Yes, Coach!” Gunner shouted.

  “Yes, Coach!” Bulldog yelled.

  Colt felt the entire team was waiting for him to answer. He knew he had to say something. He was still a co-captain. He wanted to win like everyone else. But just how far was he willing to go?

  “Last time I checked we had three linebackers,” Coach said, scanning the room for Colt.

  “Yes, Coach,” Colt said quietly.

  “That didn’t sound like a guy who would do anything to win,” Coach said. “Let’s try that one more time. Will you do whatever it takes to stop number forty-four?”

  Colt gritted his teeth and spoke a little louder. “Yes, Coach.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  Colt stared at the tiles on the floor afraid to look up. He knew every set of eyes in the room would be on him.

  The players continued to suit up. Everyone had pre-game jitters. Gunner was the first dressed as usual and sat tapping his fingers on the bench. Keegan was rehearsing the plays he would call just like he was learning his acting lines. Bulldog started to get his game face on and snarled if anyone came near him. Sanjay and Jamal had earphones on listening to their favourite tunes. And Colt just tried to stay out of Coach’s way.

  There wasn’t much talking. But that didn’t mean the air was quiet. Familiar sounds shot through the locker room. Tape was ripped from large white rolls to wrap around injured wrists. Hard plastic shoulder pads were smacked by teammates to prepare for their first hit of the game. Cleats clicked on the hard, tile floor. When the last helmet chinstrap was clipped on and the final lace tied up, the Warriors were ready for battle.

  Colt, Bulldog, and Gunner walked from the fluorescent glare of the locker room into the bright sunshine of theWoodside field.

  It was showtime.

  10

  ‘Sorry Doesn’t Cut It’

  Two yellow school buses pulled into the Woodside parking lot. One was packed with cheering Panther fans. One was filled with Panther players in uniform.

  Colt watched the black cats pour from the bus and run across the field. He didn’t take it as a sign of bad luck, though. It was all good. He was pumped for the chance to play the Panthers.

  The big cats formed a giant huddle at the fifty-yard line with their coach in the middle giving one last pep talk. Players leaped high. Fists punched the air. Cheerleaders flashed their pom-poms. The Panthers were on the prowl, hungry for playoff prey.

  The Warriors marched onto the field two-at-a-time like a column of Roman soldiers. Colt felt like a gladiator entering the coliseum from centuries ago. Instead of facing a wild lion he was about to fight a team of ferocious Panthers.

  He glanced at the bleachers and saw his mom waving. She didn’t attend every game, but this was a big one. Andrea stood farther down the sideline. She paused from scribbling in her notebook and flashed a quick smile at Colt. He smiled back, more nervous about playing well in front of his girlfriend than his mom.

  As co-captains, Colt and Gunner stood at centre field for the coin toss to decide the opening kick-off. The Panthers would get to make the call since they were the visiting team.

  The referee flipped the quarter high into the air.

  “Heads!” the Panther captain shouted.

  The coin glinted in the sun before landing on the grass. “Heads it is,” the referee said, leaning over to check it. “Your choice, Panthers.”

  The Panther captain pumped his fist. “We’ll take the ball.”

  Colt smiled. He didn’t mind his team kicking the ball to the Panthers to start the game. In fact, it was just what he wanted. The Warriors’ defence was the best in the league. No team could run against three linebackers as strong as Bulldog, Gunner, and him. Even a team with a great running back like number forty-four.

  The Warriors’ defence lined up twelve strong across the field, ready for the kick-off.

  Boom!

  The ball sailed high through the clear blue sky, falling into the hands of the Panther return man deep in his own end. Colt and his teammates charged down the field, breaking through every block the Panthers tried to throw at them. The ball carrier was swarmed by Warriors. Black and blue uniforms surrounded him. He had nowhere to go. Bulldog let out a snarl as he tackled him at the twenty yard-line. It was only a ten-yard runback.

  Colt high-fived his linebacker teammate. This was going to be easy, he thought.

  It was the opening play of the game and Gunner raised his arm for a huddle. Colt joined his teammates in the circle. His hands rested impatiently on his hips waiting for Gunner to call the play. A play he’d rather be calling.

  “Let’s show them who’s boss,” Gunner said. “Watch for a run up the middle.”

  The Warriors lined up across from the Panthers. Both teams dug in. Gunner, Bulldog, and Colt spread out behind their four defensive linemen. Sanjay and Jamal paced in the secondary, waiting to cover their receivers. The Panther quarterback leaned over his centre and called the signals. He looked left. He looked right. Colt’s eyes zeroed-in. He watched every twitch, trying to read the play. The quarterback grabbed the snap and handed the pigskin to his waiting halfback. It was the simplest call in the playbook. Colt clenched his fists. This hand-off was going nowhere.

  The halfback tucked the ball in the crook of his arm and ran up the middle just like the play called for. Colt scrambled to his right to plug the hole and wait for him. Bulldog and Gunner closed in from each side. They were going to stop this run cold. The Warriors would be sending the Panthers a message right from the start. Don’t mess with us.

  Colt was so confident he’d tackle the Panther ball carrier he forgot to do one thing. Check his number. He shot a glance at the halfback’s jersey. Two yellow fours were charging right at him. It was Tyrone Hill.

  Colt spread his arms wide to grab the shifty runner. He could still bring him down. But Tyrone saw the hit coming. He spun around and danced away from Colt’s grasp, leaving him crashing to the ground. Colt looked up from the turf hoping Bulldog and Gunner would have better luck.

  The two Warrior linebackers closed in from either side. Just as they were about to deliver their crushing blows the Panther halfback shifted into another gear and scooted between them. Instead of crunching Tyrone at the same time, Bulldog and Gunner hit only one thing — each other. Their bodies collided and collapsed to the ground.

  Tyrone kept flying down the field. Sanjay and Jamal did their best to catch him, but the Panther speedster was long gone. He galloped the whole length of the field for a touchdown. Then he spun the ball like a top in the end zone to celebrate. Tyrone was mobbed by his Panther teammates.

  The referee blew his whistle. After the convert the scoreboard read 7–0. The game was less than a minute old. The Warriors were already a touchdown behind.

  Colt stood on the sideline with Bulldog and Gunner. He was in a state of shock. He had taken the Panther running attack too lightly. Colt vowed to make up for his mistake.

  “Sorry, Coach,” he said.

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Coach shot back.

  “I’ll bring him down next time.”

  “You better, or else.”

  Colt heard Coach’s threat. He didn’t know what he meant by it. And he didn’t want to find out. He knew Coach would stop at nothing to win this game. It was all Coach had talked about all week. At breakfast he’d go on about the Panthers’ strengths and weaknesses. He’d describe their favourite plays, and how to stop them. Then a weird thing would happen. That night he’d repeat the same thing at dinner. It was like he’d totally forgotten what he’d said.

  The Warriors’ offence sputtered and was forced to punt the ball back to the Panthers. Colt strapped on his helmet and jogged onto the field. This time the Warriors’ defence knew they were in a war and battled harder. Their beefy front four plugged the middle while Colt, Bulldog, and Gunner darted from side to side, dragging down the speedy Panther running back.

  They were keeping Tyrone Hill boxed in, stopping him from racking up the yards. But just when they thought they had halted the Panthers’ running attack, their quarterback would drop back and pass to one of their wide receivers. Sanjay and Jamal were no match for their size and speed. The referees kept signalling first downs. And the Panthers kept steamrolling down the field. The team with the jet black jerseys struck for two more touchdowns before the end of the first half.

  Colt looked up at the scoreboard as he trudged off the turf. He shook his head. The Panters led 21–7. Maybe seeing black cats was bad luck, after all.

  11

  Going Too Far?

  “Sit down!” Coach barked.

  It was an order. Every player grabbed a spot on the long bench.

  Coach tugged hard on his blue Warriors’ cap as he paced in front of Colt and his teammates. The other team was called the Panthers, but it was Coach who was stalking like a giant cat. His face was strained as he spat out his words. “Does anyone remember what I said about winning this game?”

  Gunner was the only one who dared to speak up. “Losing wasn’t an option, Coach.”

  “That’s right. Not an option. I won’t have it. If we lose this game we’re finished. It means our undefeated regular season was all for nothing.” He glared at the wide-eyed faces. “Is that what you guys want?”

  The Warriors were still breathing hard, but found the strength to reply with one voice.

  “No, Coach!”

  “I didn’t think so. That’s why I was surprised by what I saw on the field during the first half.” Coach stopped in front of his hefty linebacker. “Bulldog, what word would you use to describe the way the team played?”

  “Crap,” Bulldog replied.

  The tired Warriors nodded up and down the bench.

  “Yeah, crap. I couldn’t have picked a better word myself.” Coach narrowed his eyes at Colt. “And who was leading Team Crap out there? Who was Captain Crap?”

  Colt was burning mad. He knew he didn’t play well, but it wasn’t as if Gunner had played any better. It was just like Coach to pick on him in front of the whole team.

  Halftime was almost over. The referees were back on the field. The game was about to start. If Coach had any more orders, he had to give them now.

  “Keegan! Offence! Get out there and make me feel happy, not crappy.”

  Coach gave one last angry stare down the bench and stomped away. Like an army general he stood at the edge of the battlefield glaring out at the enemy.

  Colt watched the Warriors’ offence receive the kick-off to start the second half. Despite the tongue-lashing from Coach, Keegan still wasn’t able to move the ball. He called two running plays that went nowhere. The Panthers’ defensive line was like a brick wall the Warriors couldn’t break through. They would have to punt. Coach grabbed his head with both hands in disgust. Colt knew if Coach had a headache things were only going to get worse. He expected Keegan to get an earful when he got to the sideline.

  The powerful Panthers’ offence was about to get the ball back. Colt strapped on his helmet, ready to go in and face number forty-four.

  All eyes were on the game. Everyone on the bench and everyone in the stands were watching the Warriors kick the ball. Everyone but Coach. He had his eyes on Colt.

  “Get over here,” he growled.

  Colt wondered why Coach had picked this exact moment to talk to him. A time when no one was looking at them — not a player, not a ref, not a fan.

  Colt pulled up beside Coach. His eyes were glazed over. He stared blankly across the turf at the Panther offence. “I want him gone.”

  “Who?”

  “You know who,” Coach said. “Forty-four. Stopping him is the only way we’re going to win this game.”

  “I’ll do my best to tackle him.”

  Coach glared. “From what I saw in the first half your best wasn’t good enough. I’m not leaving this to chance.” He reached out his big hand and smacked Colt three times on his helmet. Then he pointed to Tyrone Hill who was running onto the field. “I want you to take his head off.”

  Colt froze. His mouth wouldn’t work. He couldn’t believe what Coach was telling him to do.

  “If you don’t follow my orders, if you’re not willing to do what I say, you can go and sit down right now. You’ll be benched for the rest of the game. And for as long as I’m Coach. Do you hear me?”

  Colt’s heart pounded. His brain raced. Spearing another player with your helmet was the most dangerous play in football. It was also against the rules. Colt would get a penalty from the ref for sure. And a bigger penalty from Coach if he didn’t. If he didn’t follow orders he’d be letting down his dad and his team.

  The referee blew his whistle to start the next play.

  Colt’s head was still reeling with confusion. He hated being blamed for the Warriors’ bad playing. He would do almost anything to stop the Panthers from scoring. But this? Was turning into a headhunter going too far?

  There was no time left to figure it out. He was running on animal instinct now. Not thinking — just reacting. Colt sprinted onto the field. He held up his hand and called for a defensive huddle. It was the second half and he was in charge now. His orders shot out like machine gun fire.

  “Bulldog, you watch the quarterback in case he runs. Gunner, you cover the receivers for short passes in the flats.”

  Bulldog stared at Colt. “Don’t you think you’re forgetting someone?”

  “Yeah, man. What about forty-four?” Gunner asked. “He’s the only guy we have to stop.”

  Colt narrowed his eyes at Bulldog and Gunner. He wanted to make up for his bad play. He wanted to prove to the team he could do more. He wanted to prove to Coach he could do more.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  The Panther quarterback took the snap and backpedalled like he was going to pass. He cocked his arm to throw. But it was a fake. Instead, he handed the ball off to the running back who was hiding behind him — number forty-four. Most of the Warriors’ defence had been sucked in by the draw play. Bulldog chased after the quarterback. Gunner stuck with the receivers. Both got caught out of position. Only Colt had read that it was a running play.

  Colt burst through the Panther offensive line. His legs pumped like pistons. His eyes locked on the star running back. The target was in his sights. Tyrone Hill tucked the pigskin in his gut and charged downfield like a wild bull. He stampeded straight at Colt.

  It all happened in a flash. Colt lowered his head and launched himself forward like a missile. He braced his neck and shoulders for the jolting hit that was to come. His helmet smashed into Tyrone’s helmet with a jarring pop. It was a head-on collision between two speeding cars.

 

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