Tough to Tackle Read Free

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

4
    B oots Raymond didn’t know what to do. He had planned to hand in his uniform right after practice tonight and tell Coach Bo
     Higgins that he was through.
    But the letter from Tom changed things. He folded it and clumsily put it back into the envelope.
    “Did you write and tell him that I was going out for football?” he asked without looking up.
    “No. Your father did. Don’t look so glum. Don’t you think Tom is pleased to know you’ve gone out for football?”
    “Oh, sure, he is. But …”
    “But what?”
    “Oh — nothing.” He turned and started for his room.
    “Where are you going, Boots?”
    “I’m going to put on my uniform. We’re practicing tonight, too.”
    She looked at him thoughtfully. “Why don’t you write to Tom this evening?” she said. “He’d like you to, you know.”
    “And tell him I’m playing tackle?” snorted Boots. He headed quickly to his room before his mother could say anything more.
    He got into his football gear and left the house. Eddie Baker and Leo Conway were already at the field.
    “Hi,” he greeted them.
    “Hi,” they said. “Where are Bud and Duck?”
    He shrugged. “They’ll be coming.”
    He sat on the grass some ten feet awayfrom them, broke off a stem, and put it between his teeth. Eddie Baker and Leo Conway were snobs. He wished they played on
     another team. Eddie played a trumpet in the school band and Leo was sports writer for the junior high school paper.
    Who can’t play a trumpet? You just had to take lessons. And who can’t write a sports column? You didn’t need a basketful of
     brains to do that.
    Suddenly Boots felt foolish thinking such thoughts about Leo and Eddie. They just had different interests than he had. What
     was wrong with that?
    A minivan drove up with Coach Dekay behind the wheel. A half-dozen uniformed kids scrambled out of it. A few minutes later
     Coach Bo Higgins drove up and another half-dozen kids piled out of his van. Bud Davis and Duck Farrell showed up at the same
     time.
    They did calisthenics for ten minutes, then practiced running and pass plays. Bud did most of the passwork. Pete Ellis and
     Eddie Baker, the ends, did most of the catching. All three were pretty rusty. Bud was either throwing behind the receivers
     or too far ahead of them. Only about one out of four passes was right on target.
    “By baseball season you should be hitting them right in the numbers,” kidded Boots, laughing.
    The sun began to set fast over the hills in the west.
    “When’s our first game, Coach?” Bud asked when practice was over.
    “We’ll find out next week when the schedules are handed out,” replied Bo Higgins.
    Writing a letter was just as hard as writing an essay. But maybe a letter would make Tomfeel better. Tom had sounded pretty lonesome and unhappy in his letter.
    Dear Tom,
    Mom said that Dad told you I went out for football. I wanted to play quarterback but Coach Higgins said I’m too heavy. A backfield
     man can’t weigh over 125 pounds, he said. So he put me on the line. I’m playing right tackle. It’s a stupid position. All
     you do is block on offense and try to bust through the line and get the ball carrier on defense. I’m playing both offense
     and defense.
    I wish they would change the rule about weights. I think I can play quarterback a lot better than tackle. I’m a poor tackle.
     I guess lousy is a better word.
    Do you think it’s okay if I told Coach Higgins that I don’t want to play anymore? I sure would like your opinion.
    Love,
    Boots

5
    O n Wednesday evening Coach Higgins handed out two sheets of paper to each player. They contained the schedule and the roster
     of the Apollos.
Schedule
Sept. 18
Apollos vs. Flyers
School field
Starbirds vs. Argonauts
Town