The Team That Couldn't Lose

  Copyright

  Copyright © 1999 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  Copyright © renewed 1997 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

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  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

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  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  First eBook Edition: December 2009

  Matt Christopher® is a registered trademark of Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  ISBN: 978-0-316-09536-5

  To

  Coach Stan Sobus

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Matt Christopher®

  The #1 Sports Series for Kids: MATT CHRISTOPHER®

  1

  All right, men!” yelled Coach Tom Kash. “Let’s try that play again! You guys on defense, charge in there! Your job is to try to stop Chip from throwing the ball!”

  Chip Chase wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jersey and got into position again behind center Toots Egan. It was a muggy day. The Cayugans had been practicing for almost an hour and were getting very tired.

  They needed practice, though. They needed it badly. They had scrimmaged the Duckbills last Saturday and were slaughtered 28-0. And their first league game was this coming Saturday, just five days away.

  It was the rain that had caused all the trouble. It had rained so much during the past two weeks that the team couldn’t get together enough for practice. And the Cayugans simply had to practice as much as they possibly could. They had twenty-one players on the roster, but too many of them knew too little about football. Chip, Splash Tuttle, and Spencer Keel were the only three who had played football at least two years. The other guys had played only one year, or not even that.

  “Down!” yelled Chip.

  The linemen and the backfield men got down instantly, left arms balanced on their left knees, right hands pressed against the short-cropped grass.

  “One! Two! Three! Hip!”

  Toots Egan snapped the ball. Chip took it, turned, faked a handoff to fullback Spencer Keel, then faded back. He saw Splash running down the left side of the park, a defenseman about two yards behind him.

  Chip reared back with both hands on the ball because he couldn’t grip it with one hand. His fingers were too short.

  Three guys broke through the line and charged at him. He removed his left hand from the ball, then heaved the ball in the direction of Splash Tuttle.

  It was a near-perfect throw, arcing down just ahead of Splash. Splash caught it with both hands and ran hard down the field. The man covering him couldn’t get close enough to touch him. If this were a real game, it would’ve been a touchdown.

  It was the best play of the three that Coach Tom Kash had taught them. They were all simple plays. The coach didn’t think they’d be able to perform more difficult ones.

  Chip heard a shout from the sideline. “Nice pass, Chip! Good arm!”

  That was Danny Livermore, the team’s manager. He was slim and short and two years younger than Chip. He wasn’t eligible to play in the league yet, but he was allowed to help out as manager.

  Chip rolled his eyes. That kid! he thought. Why does he always have to try to be my best friend?

  It wasn’t that Chip didn’t like the little guy. But Danny’s hero worship of Chip was embarrassing sometimes. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but Danny kept hoping to get Chip interested in his hobbies. Hobbies like collecting butterflies and flowers, and going to flea markets and garage sales. He was always carrying around this crazy notebook with things pasted in it or written down. Chip just wasn’t keen on any of that stuff — or on spending more time with Danny.

  Chip was sure that Danny could become just about anything he wanted to when he grew up. He was that smart. He didn’t look it, but he was. He was a whiz at math and wrote compositions more easily than any kid in Chip’s grade. He was adventurous, too, for someone his size. He had gone alone into the woods two or three times to collect leaves. There was a swamp in the middle of the woods, but that didn’t faze Danny.

  If only he didn’t try so hard, thought Chip.

  “Okay, fellas,” Coach Tom Kash said. “Get around me a minute. “Got something to tell you.”

  Beside him stood Phil Wayne, his assistant coach. Phil was a young man, no older than twenty-two, with short, dark hair. Although he was well liked, he really knew very little about football.

  “Boys,” Tom Kash said after the team had assembled in front of him, “I don’t know whether you’ve heard this, but some of us at the computer plant have been transferred to other parts of the country. I regret to say that I am one of them.”

  Chip stared at him.

  “This is my last day with you,” the coach continued. “Phil Wayne will be your head coach from now on. I have asked Adam Quigley, Firehose’s dad, to assist him, and he says he’ll be glad to. Phil played football for two years in high school, and so did Mr. Quigley. I don’t expect that you’ll win every game in the league, but with a lot of hard work and cooperation — and if you listen to Mr. Wayne and Mr. Quigley — I don’t see why you can’t win at least a couple.”

  He smiled. “You’re only playing six games, so that would be thirty-three and one-third percent. Not a bad average, really, considering that most of you ballplayers are about as green as Phil’s sweatshirt.”

  “My only request now is that you call me Coach or Phil, not Mr. Wayne,” Phil said. “Mr. Wayne is my father!” The boys laughed. Chip saw Phil grin at Mr. Kash.

  “You’ve learned three plays fairly well,” said Mr. Kash. “It’s too bad that we’ve had so much rain. I think we would’ve had a better team. Practice every day from now on — with Fridays off as rest days.” He smiled. “Well, boys, this is it. It’s been a lot of fun. I’m awfully sorry I can’t be with you any longer. I love football. I love to coach it, especially to a bunch of hardworking boys like you. Maybe I’ll stop and see you play one of these days. Good luck!”

  Some of the boys stood staring at him as if his words had glued them to the ground. Others ran up to him and shook his hand and told him how much they’d miss him.

  Chip was one of those who couldn’t move. Finally, he did. He went up to Mr. Kash and shook his hand and said that he was sorry to see him go.

  Chip turned away, feeling as blue as anyone could feel. With Phil Wayne as head coach and Mr. Quigley as assistant coach, he couldn’t see how the Cayugans could possibly win a game. As a matter of fact, he predicted that the Cayugans would lose every single one of them.

  2

  Chip didn’t care about going to practice on Tuesday. With Mr. Kash gone, the team would be nothing. Neither Phil Wayne nor Mr. Quigley knew enough about football to coach a team. All the coaches in the league were supposed to have the qualifications of knowing football and how to coach, but neither Phil nor Mr. Quigley had.


  The trouble was that there weren’t enough men in town who could qualify. Those who could already had teams to coach, except Bart Franks, the former college football star of Notre Dame. He wasn’t able to coach, though, because he was a salesman and on the road most of the time.

  Chip wished his father could coach. But Mr. Chase had never played football. He knew even less about it than Phil Wayne did. He enjoyed the game, though. He had seen all the games last year, and he enjoyed watching the pro games on TV.

  Anyway, Chip’s dad was plenty busy with other things. He and Mrs. Chase were co-presidents of the PTA. He was also secretary of the Lions Club and chairman of a tool designers’ organization. He couldn’t find time to coach a football team even if he knew how.

  Chip attended practice only because he didn’t want to let Phil Wayne or Mr. Quigley down. He went over to get Splash Tuttle, and the two of them walked together to the park.

  “Hi, Chip! Hi, Splash!” Danny Livermore called, cracking a wide grin.

  Chip gave a half-wave.

  “What a nut,” Splash muttered. “Smiles no matter if we lose every game in the league.”

  Phil came over.

  “Hi, fellas,” he said. “Been waiting for you. I want the backfield men to drill on pass plays and line plunges, so put on your helmets and let’s get into our positions.” He turned and yelled to the players running around on the field, throwing and catching footballs. Nine players broke away from the group and came trotting forward.

  Two of them were fullback Spencer Keel and right halfback Gordie Poole. The other seven were linemen. Chip saw Mr. Quigley working with a group near the side of the field. He saw the quarterback fumble a pass from center, then stumble all over himself trying to pick it up.

  Chip looked away, shaking his head. What a sad-looking bunch they were!

  “Line up, men,” Phil ordered. He named off the linemen, then glanced over the men in the backfield. Mr. Kash had taught the backfield men the basic formation, so the boys got into their positions without difficulty.

  Phil looked up from his notebook. “Can you remember what Play Forty-two is?” he asked.

  “Yes,” answered Chip. “I hand off the ball to Spence and he takes off between left guard and center.”

  Phil nodded. “Right. Okay, let’s try it.”

  They tried it — again and again. Since Mr. Kash had taught them the play, they must have run it a million times. It was the same with the other plays in which Spence carried the ball. He played fullback because he was the biggest and hardest to bring down. But that didn’t mean that the play was successful each time. It wasn’t.

  They tried the pass plays, which were a sad thing, too. Chip was the only member of the team who could throw a football well. Therefore only he did the passing.

  He threw a long one down the left side of the field to the left end and then down the right side of the field to the right end, and both times the receivers missed the ball. Phil had them try the play until both ends caught the passes thrown to them. By that time Chip’s arm was beginning to ache. Boy, what a couple of crummy ends, he thought.

  Phil exchanged players on the line with the group being coached by Mr. Quigley, then had the two squads scrimmage against each other. Since there were only twenty-one players on the Cayugans team, Mr. Quigley had to be satisfied with ten men. Both squads were given opportunities to carry the ball. Chip noticed that the squad he was on wasn’t much good, but the other squad was even worse.

  He was glad when Phil finally shouted, “Okay, boys! That’s it for tonight! See you tomorrow!”

  “Maybe,” Chip heard Splash say. “Oh, I guess I’ll be here,” Splash added as he met Chip’s eyes.

  Chip didn’t say it, but that was how he felt about it, too.

  3

  When five-thirty rolled around on Wednesday and Chip didn’t put on his uniform, his mom looked at him questioningly. “Isn’t there football practice tonight, Chip?” she asked.

  “Yes, but —” Chip hated to tell her.

  “But, what?”

  “Well, Mr. Kash is gone, and Phil Wayne and Mr. Quigley are coaching us. Those guys don’t know anything about football. I don’t want to be on a team that’s going to be skinned every game.”

  “Oh? Don’t you think you should give Mr. Wayne and Mr. Quigley a chance to see what they can do?”

  “I’ve seen what Phil can do. And I don’t think Mr. Quigley can do any better.”

  He knew that was a poor attitude to take. He expected his mom to tell him so. But she only looked at him silently. She didn’t have to tell him.

  He stuck to his decision. He wasn’t going to practice — today, tomorrow, nor any other time. He would tell Phil Wayne he had quit the team as soon as he saw him. By that time, he’d think of a good reason to give Phil. He would have to return the uniform to Phil, too.

  Mr. Chase came home a few minutes before six. He, too, wondered why Chip hadn’t gone to football practice. Chip told him the same thing he had told his mom. Chip expected his dad to say that it was a poor attitude to take. But he didn’t. He probably figured that Chip was old enough now to know that it was a poor attitude without telling him.

  After dinner Chip went to his room and started on his homework. There was a page of math he had to do, and a short composition to write. He did the first two math problems all right, then encountered trouble. It wasn’t the math problem. It was a thought that kept nagging at his mind: Phil Wayne, Mr. Quigley, and the Cayugans. He could see them all at the field without him. He wondered who was working out at quarterback. Bill Perrett? Luther Otis?

  He kept pushing the football thoughts out of his mind. But they kept coming back. He finally finished the math problems, then started on his composition. That was even worse. He wrote a full page, saw the many words he had scratched out on it, then crumbled up the paper, threw it into a wastebasket, and started another. It was almost bedtime when he had finished a composition he was satisfied with.

  Thursday at school, the boys wanted to know where he had been last night. “Home,” he said. “I didn’t feel well.” He didn’t have to tell them the truth, did he?

  “Phil Wayne and Mr. Quigley taught us a new play,” said Splash. “It’s real tough.”

  “I bet,” said Chip. Real tough. How could Phil Wayne and Mr. Quigley teach them a real tough play when all they knew were the plays Mr. Kash had taught them?

  Now and then throughout the day, the thought of missing football practice popped into Chip’s mind. What did Splash mean when he said that Phil Wayne and Mr. Quigley were teaching the team a new play? A real tough new play?

  It was the longest school day Chip had lived through in a long time. He was glad when it was over. At home, he came out of his room at a quarter after five, wearing his football uniform. His mom looked at him with a pleased glint in her eyes. “We’ll hold up supper for you,” she said.

  The whole Cayugans team seemed glad to see him. “You oughta see the new play Phil and Mr. Quigley are teaching us,” Chazz Davis said, excitedly. “It’s great!”

  Chip smiled. It sure was good to be at practice, no matter how poor the Cayugans were!

  “Chip Chase,” said Phil Wayne, “you weren’t here last evening, so you missed out on our first practice of a new play. Take your quarterback position. Luther, you just stand aside and keep your ears open. First team, get into positions for Play One.”

  The men promptly moved into their positions. Then Phil Wayne explained in detail the job each man had to do, just as he must have done yesterday. Left end Hans Lodder and left tackle Jim Kolar were to run ahead and to the right across the field to run interference for the ballcarrier. Left guard Marty Tripp and center Toots Egan were to block the right linebackers. Right guard Firehose Quigley was to block the left linebacker. Right tackle Chazz Davis and right end Tracy Tinker had men to block, too.

  The other big job was in the backfield. Chip Chase, playing quarterback, would get the pass from center, fak
e a handoff to right halfback Gordie Poole, then toss a lateral to Splash Tuttle, who would be running from his left halfback position toward and then around right end. Fullback Spencer Keel’s job was to take out the defensive end.

  They tried the play. They went over it again and again and again. Chip was amazed and pleased. The play was tough, just as Splash had said. But it looked like a real good one. Chip’s opinion of Phil Wayne slowly began to change.

  “We need a strong defense,” Phil told the team. “You boys on the line, bust through. Bring down that ballcarrier. Stop that pass. Linebackers, watch every play closely. Stop those rushes. Intercept those passes. Knock the ball down if you can’t. Do your job, and we won’t have to worry about the other team’s piling up touchdowns against us.”

  Chip smiled to himself. Those were practically the same words Mr. Kash had spoken to the team. It looked like Phil was trying his best to imitate Mr. Kash in being a good coach.

  So the team practiced hard on defense. And they practiced the new play, Play One.

  Some of the players forgot which man they had to block. Phil and Mr. Quigley explained carefully again to them.

  “It’s a hard play,” Chip said wonderingly. “Do you think we could do it in a game?”

  “You’re darn right you can,” said Phil confidently. “All we have to do is work at it.”

  “No play is too tough if you keep working at it, Chip,” added Mr. Quigley.

  They sure sound like real coaches, thought Chip. He shrugged and went to his quarterback spot. They worked the play over and over again, and the team pulled it off better each time.

  Occasionally they worked a simple play Mr. Kash had taught them, too. And they worked hard on improving their defense. But it was Play One that Coach Phil Wayne and Mr. Quigley concentrated on.

  “Maybe Phil was holding out on us,” Chip said to Splash as they walked away from the park after practice. “Maybe he really knows more about football than we thought he did.”