“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

  Harris shrugged.

  Mr. Weathers got up and poured himself a glass of milk. He sat down next to Harris again and stole a bite of his granola bar.

  “I don’t think I had a stomach flu or food poisoning today,” Harris said.

  “No?” his dad said.

  “I think I was just nervous,” Harris admitted.

  “Nerves can definitely make a person feel sick or like they want to throw up,” his dad said.

  “I guess,” Harris said. “The truth is, since I got hit last week, I’ve been a little scared to play. I haven’t been trying very hard in practice. I’ve been stepping out of bounds and dropping the ball before the other guys have a chance to knock into me.”

  Mr. Weathers nodded slowly. “I see,” he said. “Well, I can understand that. Mom and I talk all the time about how worried we are having you play a game like football. People get hurt playing football. Head injuries are no joke.”

  Harris agreed.

  “But people also play football for years and years,” Harris’s dad went on, “and they get bumps and bruises. But they also love the game, become great team players, and make a lot of great memories.”

  “Like you did?” Harris asked.

  “Yeah,” his dad sighed. “Like I did.”

  Then he looked at Harris and took a deep, slow breath. “But if you want to quit football,” he said, “and focus on other things, Mom and I would be OK with that. We want you to be happy and safe.”

  “But that’s the thing, Dad,” Harris said. “I don’t actually want to quit football. I love football.”

  “I know,” his dad said.

  “I always have,” Harris said.

  “Ever since I took you to a game when you were only three years old,” his dad said.

  His dad gave him a playful elbow to Harris’s shoulder. “You thought the players looked like superhero motorcycle riders in their uniforms and helmets.”

  “I did!” Harris said, laughing.

  “And you’re great at the game,” his dad said. “And you’ve made good friends. You have been close with Sy Berner for most of your life.”

  “He’s probably my best friend,” Harris agreed. He thought back on all of the great plays he and Sy had completed together. He got a rush just thinking about it.

  “So, if you don’t want to quit,” his dad continued, “what do you want to do?”

  “I just don’t want to be afraid anymore,” Harris said.

  “Want me to talk to Coach Andersen?” his dad asked.

  Harris shook his head. “I will,” he said. “First thing Monday.”

  Dad gave him a side hug. “Good,” he said. “Now get some sleep, or you’ll be a zombie all weekend.”

  CHAPTER 8

  HEADS UP

  On Monday morning before advisory class, Harris knocked on Coach Andersen’s office door.

  “Come on in, Weathers,” Coach said. He didn’t get up from his desk. “I think I know what this is about.”

  “You do?” Harris said as he stepped inside the little office. He sat in the ancient green and gray chair across from the coach. It was probably older than his parents.

  “You’re quitting football, aren’t you?” Coach Andersen said. He shook his head sadly. “You won’t be the first player to let fear of the game get the better of him.”

  “Oh, no, Coach,” Harris said. “I mean, I thought about it. But I love football too much to quit. But how did you know … I mean, I have been scared lately.”

  Coach Andersen stood up and looked out the window at the school’s football field. “I’ve seen you in practice,” Coach said. “Ever since you took that hit at the game against Washington, you’ve been playing fifty percent. Your heart’s not in it.”

  “I’m … I’m sorry,” was all Harris could think to say.

  Coach Andersen shook his head and turned to look at Harris. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “It’s my job as coach to make sure you’re not only playing with all your heart, but staying safe while you do it. That’s why I got these for the whole team.” Coach pulled a box out from under his desk. “They arrived this weekend.”

  He opened the box and pulled out a funny looking black beanie. “You wear it under your helmet. It lessens the shock to your head when you take a hit,” he explained.

  He tossed it to Harris.

  Harris inspected the beanie, squishing the gel inserts between his fingers.

  “That hit you took,” Coach Andersen said, “and your nervous stomach on Friday afternoon were a wake-up call to me and the athletic board.”

  “Wow, really?” Harris said.

  “Yep. A few of the board members were watching. We decided we should try to prevent head injuries before something serious happens,” Coach Andersen said. “That means better equipment, like these beanies, and more focus in practice on preventing injuries.”

  “That really makes me feel better, Coach,” Harris said. “Thanks.”

  “It makes me feel better that you don’t want to quit,” Coach replied. “Thanks for coming to talk to me.”

  Harris smiled. A sense of calm settled over him that he hadn’t felt in awhile. Suddenly, the bell rang. “You’re a good kid, Weathers,” Coach said. “Now get to class.”

  At practice, Coach Andersen gathered everyone around. He passed out the gel beanies and explained what they were for. Everyone put one on under their helmet.

  “O team, get set up for drills,” he said. “Sy’s in charge.”

  “Put your hearts into it out there,” he said, nodding at Harris.

  Harris stood next to Sy. “We good?” Harris asked quietly.

  “Yeah, it’s cool,” Sy said. But Harris wasn’t entirely convinced Sy meant it.

  “D team,” Coach Andersen continued, “we’re working on heads-up play today. Can anyone tell me what that means?”

  Dan raised his hand. “That means tackling without ramming headfirst, right?” he said.

  “That’s right,” Coach Andersen said. “Today’s all about safety, and that has to start with tackles. Especially you big guys. You know you could put a scrawny kicker in the hospital, and we don’t want that.”

  The big guys on the D team laughed.

  But Coach Andersen cut them off. “This is no joke, boys. Think how you’d feel if you ended a fellow player’s football career before it really got started. And that’s not to mention something more serious that might affect a person’s whole life.”

  The laughing stopped.

  “Let’s get started,” Coach Andersen said.

  “Ready?” Sy asked Harris as they lined up.

  Harris thumped his helmet with his fist. “Yup,” he said. “Pattern one: backfield switch.”

  Sy nodded and took his place behind the center. Harris stood at the left end of the offensive line.

  Sy started the count. Harris drew back and cut behind Sy, but then he switched direction.

  Sy took the snap, and Harris faded toward the sideline. Sy fell back out of the pocket as the defenders closed in on him. He pulled back for a long pass—but threw a short one to Harris just over the line of scrimmage near the boundary line.

  Harris snatched the ball out of the air and tucked it under his arm. He sprinted up the sideline.

  Two passing defenders moved toward him, and he nearly stepped out to avoid them. But then he remembered the extra gel under his helmet, and he remembered that he loved this game.

  Harris sped toward the defenders and spun, leaving one in the dust. The other got a hold of his middle and brought him to the ground. Both boys fell to the turf.

  Harris nearly laughed with relief. The tackle hadn’t even hurt.

  “Nice run,” said the tackler. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks,” Harris said. “Good to be back!”

  CHAPTER 9

  THE RIVALRY

  On Friday afternoon, the Mount Meadow Marlins played at the Tigers. In the locker room before the game, Coach Andersen paced in front of the team. “As you know,” he said, “we play the Marlins once every year.”

  He stopped pacing and stared at each player as he spoke. “As you also know,” he went on, “the Marlins have beaten the Tigers every year for the past nine years.”

  He sighed. “That first time they won was also my first year coaching at Bader Ginsburg Middle School. And it was the first year my college roommate, Dean Finch, became the head coach at Mount Meadow Middle School.”

  The team winced.

  “Our ten-year reunion will be this spring,” Coach said as he resumed pacing. “No pressure … but I don’t intend to go into that event hall with a 0–10 record against my old friend.”

  “We won’t let you down, Coach,” Sy said.

  “Ready to start today, Weathers?” Coach asked.

  “Definitely,” Harris replied. “I’ll play with all my heart.”

  Coach Andersen nodded. “Get out there, Tigers! Leave it all on the field!”

  After the kickoff, the Tigers had possession at their forty-two-yard line. Sy called a lateral to the halfback. Harris set up at the end of the offensive line. Sy got the snap and took two steps back.

  He pitched the ball to Mateo, behind Harris. Harris ran with Mateo up the middle of the field. He pushed off a defender, giving Mateo a little more open field. The halfback got to the fifty before the Marlins’ defense brought him down.

  Sy brought in the huddle. “I’m going to Mateo again,” he said. “This time step up and turn for the quick pass. Pattern three.”

  “Hey,” Harris said. “Don’t forget about me.”

  “I haven’t,” Sy said. “Break.”

  The team lined up. Sy took the snap and faded three steps back. Harris ran around behind him for the fake handoff. He sprinted upfield along the sideline, bringing three defenders with him.

  Sy fired a line-drive spiral into Mateo’s chest. He made the catch, but the Marlins didn’t let him take a step. It was a gain of one yard.

  “Third down,” Sy said in the huddle. “Paulie, pass to you ten yards out, button hook. Be ready.”

  “Sy,” Harris said.

  Sy ignored him. “Break!”

  Harris lined up behind the offensive line. Paulie, a receiver, stood behind him.

  Sy took the snap. Harris and Paulie pushed through the line, with their linemen clearing a path. Paulie went out ten yards and spun back to catch Sy’s pass, but a defender jumped and knocked the ball away.

  It was fourth down, with three yards to go.

  “Come on out, boys,” Coach Andersen said. “Special teams.”

  They were punting, and Harris didn’t even have a chance to get the first down.

  “Sy, you don’t have to worry about me,” Harris said as they walked to the bench. “I’m not going to throw the game. I’m fine now.”

  “I know,” Sy said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Harris watched the kicking team set up and lay a nice punt inside the Marlins’ twenty-yard-line.

  They ran it back to the thirty. They got the first down twice, but then only got as far as the Tigers’ twenty-five. It was close enough for the field goal.

  The Marlins were up 3–0.

  CHAPTER 10

  HAVE HEART

  Harris took a few runs, but Sy didn’t rely on him for yardage as much as he usually did. By the end of the fourth quarter, Harris had run for fifty yards. Sy had passed for a hundred and fifty. And the Tigers were down 13–9.

  After a Marlins kickoff, Coach Andersen called a time-out.

  “This game is far from over,” Coach said. “One touchdown, and we win. That’s when it’s over.”

  “We just can’t get into that end zone,” Sy said. “Their passing defense is strong.”

  “Give it to Harris,” Coach said. “Let him take the end run. He’ll get it there. Isn’t that right, Weathers?”

  “I’ll give it everything I have,” Harris said, glancing at Sy. “I can promise that.”

  Sy exhaled through his nose sharply. “Fine,” he said. “Pattern one. Get us that first down, Harris.”

  The O team took the field and lined up. Sy counted off. Harris stepped back from the line and darted across the backfield. Sy took the snap, spun to his left, and slipped the ball into Harris’s hands. Harris shot upfield. Sy faded back and went to pass. But he didn’t have the ball. Harris did.

  Harris weaved through the defense. He spun past a corner back. Paulie’s defender broke off from the receiver. He chased after Harris. Harris saw him coming from the edge of his vision. He was big.

  Harris’s breath caught as he remembered his nightmare: towering defenders and bone-splintering slams. His head bouncing against the turf. His whole world spinning.

  Harris took a deep breath as the Marlins defender knocked into him with his shoulder. They both went to the ground out of bounds.

  “First down!” the line ref called out.

  Harris jogged back to the huddle.

  “You good, Weathers?” Sy asked.

  Harris nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Touch and go for a minute, but I’m good.”

  “OK,” Sy said. “Pattern one, backfield switch. Left side. Break!”

  The O team lined up. Harris drew back on the left side. He breathed slowly. He imagined the ball in his hands. He remembered heads-up. He remembered the gel padding under his helmet.

  Sy called hut. Harris left the line and jogged behind Sy. Sy took the snap. Harris cut backward, passing behind Sy again, and went out wide to the left in the backfield. Sy drew back for the long pass, but he found Harris instead with the lateral.

  Harris snagged the ball from the air and pulled it against him. The defensive line swarmed in on Sy too late. Mateo ran alongside Harris. He blocked two defenders then tumbled to the turf.

  Harris sprinted on alone. Several Marlins tried to catch him. One dove for his feet but missed. Harris crossed the forty, the thirty-five, the thirty-yard line.

  One Marlin went to cut him off from the end zone. His head up, Harris ran toward the defender. He spun out away from the sideline. The Marlin tripped up, dove, and missed the tackle.

  Harris stepped over the end zone line for the touchdown. He dropped the ball and jumped, his hands in the air. In a moment, the rest of the O team ran into the end zone too. They grabbed him and raised him up on their shoulders.

  The Tigers had finally beaten the Marlins.

  “Great run, Harris,” Sy said.

  Harris’s teammates let him down from their shoulders. He and Sy jogged back to the bench. Only a few seconds were left on the clock. The game was over.

  “Thanks for trusting me,” Harris said.

  “Thanks for showing up,” Sy said. He patted Harris on the helmet.

  Sy grabbed some water. Harris sat on the bench.

  “Nice job, Weathers,” Coach Andersen said. “How’s the padding? Feel OK?”

  “Feels great, Coach,” Harris said. “It’s not just protecting my head, though.”

  “What do you mean?” Coach asked.

  “It’s protecting my heart too,” Harris said. “And if I can play with heart, I can give it my all and that’s what really matters.”

  AUTHOR BIO

  Eric Stevens has written more than one hundred chapter books for young readers. He lives with his wife and children in Minneapolis, where he and his family enjoy kayaking, cycling, and playing tennis in the city’s beautiful parks.

  ILLUSTRATOR BIO

  Jesus Aburto has worked in the comic book industry for more than eleven years. In that time, he has illustrated popular characters such as Wolverine, Iron Man, Blade, and the Punisher. Recently, Jesus started his own illustration studio called Graphikslava. He lives in Monterrey, Mexico, with his kids Ilka, Mila, Aleph, and his beloved wife.

  GLOSSARY

  backfield (BACK-feeld) —

  the area behind either the offensive or defensive line

  concussion (kuhn-KUH-shuhn) —

  an injury to the brain caused by a hard blow to the head

  contact (KAHN-takt) —

  touching something

  juke (JOOK) —

  to make a quick move to fake out an opponent

  lateral (LAT-ur-uhl) —

  to pass the ball sideways or backward to another player

  pinny (PIN-ee) —

  loose shirts often worn in practice games

  pocket (POK-it) —

  the area behind the offensive line from which a quarterback usually throws passes

  scrimmage (SKRIM-ij) —

  a practice game

  turf (TURF) —

  the surface layer of grass and earth on a lawn or playing field

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  Why did Harris Weathers play so carefully after he took a painful hit in the first game?

  Harris complained of a stomachache in chapter five. Did he have food poisoning or a stomach bug, or did something else cause his stomach pain? Explain.

  Why was Sy angry to see Harris at the ice cream shop after the game?

  WRITING PROMPTS

  Have you ever been hurt while taking part in a sport? Were you able to go back to the sport? How did you handle it?

  If Harris were a friend of yours, what would you say to him? How would you help him get past his fear and back to the sport he loved in a safe way?

  Have you ever given up on something, like a sport, a craft, or some other activity because it got to be too difficult? Looking back, do you wish you had stuck with it? Why or why not?

  MORE ABOUT HEAD INJURIES AND SPORTS

  Kids ages 9 to 14 make up the largest group of football players in the United States. Luckily, kids that age also tend to knock into each other during play a lot less roughly than older, bigger players. For that reason, head injuries among young players are uncommon.

  However, young players also have weaker necks, larger heads, and less natural protection around their brains. So when a big hit does occur in play, an injury may be more likely.

 

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