Dinged, page 1
Also by Tommy Greenwald
Game Changer
Rivals
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4197-5515-6
Text © 2022 Tommy Greenwald
Title page art by Neil Swaab
Book design by Chelsea Hunter
Published in 2022 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
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To the memory of Mike Webster
In American football getting “dinged” equates to moments of dizziness, confusion, or grogginess that can follow a blow to the head. There are approximately 100,000 to 300,000 concussive episodes occurring in the game of American football each year.
It is now known that those instances of mild concussion or “dings” that we may have previously not noticed could very well be causing progressive neurodegenerative damage to a player’s brain. Symptoms [. . .] may begin years or decades later and include a progressive decline of memory, as well as depression, poor impulse control, suicidal behavior, and, eventually, dementia similar to Alzheimer’s disease.
Given the millions of athletes participating in contact sports that involve repetitive brain trauma, [this] represents an important public health issue. In the future, focused and intensive study of the risk factors could potentially uncover methods to prevent and treat this disease.
—United States National Library of Medicine
PROLOGUE
I live for the game.
How could I not?
My dad lived for the game before me. It made him rich and famous. And when he discovered I had talent—really rare talent, according to pretty much everyone I’ve ever met—he made it his life’s mission to help me become as good as I could be.
My mom had no choice but to go along for the ride, but she loves it, too. The game scares her, sure, but I know the pride she feels. The pride of knowing her husband made it to the top, and of knowing that her only son is probably going to make it there, too.
So yeah, I was destined to play football pretty much before I was born.
But don’t get me wrong.
It’s not like anybody is forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do.
Because I love it.
I love every bit of it.
I love the competition, the teamwork, the beauty, the brutality, how it’s so simple and so complicated at the same time, how it’s the one thing that makes me feel truly alive.
And sure—I love being better than everyone else.
So like I said . . . I live for the game.
I guess the question is:
Am I willing to die for it?
PART I
Clouds
WALTHORNENEWS.COM
WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE
A HIGH SCHOOL SPORTS BLOG ABOUT
THE WALTHORNE WILDCATS
BY ALFIE JENKS
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 7
High School Football Hopes Rest on Freshman Phenom’s Shoulders
William Toffler has been coaching football a long time—more than 25 years, by his count. So he knows what it’s like to come across a once-in-a-generation talent.
Enter Caleb Springer.
“This is a special kid,” Coach Toffler says. “We’re super lucky to have him.” Caleb, only 14 years old and a rising freshman at Walthorne High School, has been wowing people with his quarterbacking skills since his days playing for the Peewee Panthers as a six-year-old. And it’s no wonder: Caleb’s father, Sammy Springer, played in the NFL for seven years and was an all-pro wide receiver.
Coach Toffler, who has done a great job since replacing the legendary Hall of Famer Louis Bizetti as Head Football Coach at Walthorne High two years ago, has already made clear he plans on starting Caleb right away. “This isn’t a kid who needs to wait his turn,” says Coach Toffler. “His poise and ability are way beyond his years. I don’t want to put too much pressure on the kid, but we expect to compete for the state title with Caleb at the helm. He’s ready to go.”
Meanwhile, Caleb’s dad is excited to see his son’s high school debut. “Oh, you bet, we’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” said Sammy Springer. “Seeing my boy out there playing high school football is a dream come true.” When asked if he was upset that his son didn’t play wide receiver like him, the former NFL star laughed. “Are you kidding? No one gets hit harder than the little guys on the outside. He’ll be a lot safer back there in the pocket, being protected by the big boys on the line.”
You can see Caleb Springer’s high school debut for yourself this Friday night at home against Meadow Ridge.
WWHS
WALTHORNE HIGH SCHOOL RADIO
ALFIE:
Testing, testing, 123 . . . Testing . . . Is this thing on?
CALEB:
Well, you’re blasting through my headphones, so I guess yes.
ALFIE:
Sweet! And oh, uh, sorry about the levels. Still getting used to this new equipment.
CALEB:
Cool. This is all new for me, too.
ALFIE:
Okay, so, yeah! Welcome to my first-ever high school edition of “Talking Sports” on WWHS. This is Alfie Jenks, associate sports editor.
CALEB:
Wait, are you a freshman, too? Or should I say freshwoman?
ALFIE:
Ha. Neither. I’m a sophomore—they don’t let you host your own show till you’re a sophomore.
CALEB:
Oh cool, well, congrats on your first show.
ALFIE:
Yeah, thanks! So, anyway, yeah, I’m here with Caleb Springer, who is an actual freshman, and who has just been named the first-string quarterback of the Walthorne High Wildcats. We’ve got a really exciting season coming up, starting with the first game this Friday night against Meadow Ridge. So, Caleb, are you ready to go?
CALEB:
I sure hope so.
ALFIE:
Do you feel, like, a lot of pressure because you’re so good?
CALEB:
Well, uh, thanks, I guess, but I don’t know about that—
ALFIE:
You are, though. You’re, like, the best quarterback Walthorne has ever had. Everyone says so. And you’re only a freshman. How does that feel? Does it feel awesome?
CALEB:
Oh man.
ALFIE:
Does it, like, stress you out? Or how about the fact that your dad was a famous player in the NFL? Is that a lot of pressure, too?
CALEB:
He’s not that fam—
ALFIE:
Oh shoot, wait, hold on a sec. I forgot something. Mr. Rashad says reporters always need to make sure our readers or listeners understand the background.
CALEB:
Who?
ALFIE:
My advisor, Mr. Rashad. So, uh, for all you listeners out there, Caleb’s dad is Sammy Springer, who played for the New York Jets and was, like, this amazing wide receiver and had this incredible career and made it into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
CALEB:
Actually, that’s not quite true. I mean, the Jets part is true, and the wide receiver part is true. He played in the pros for seven years, but he isn’t in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He’s in the College Football Hall of Fame, though.
ALFIE:
Oh, my bad! Why only seven years?
CALEB:
Uh, well, that’s actually longer than most NFL players play. They get banged up, you know—injuries and stuff.
ALFIE:
Oh man. Injuries suck.
CALEB:
They sure do. Can you say “suck” on the radio?
ALFIE:
Uh . . . I’m not sure, to be honest. I better . . . This has been “Talking Sports,” with associate sports editor Alfie Jenks, signing off.
1
Walthorne High vs. Meadow Ridge High Season Record: 0–0
Buck helps block out the noise.
When I first started playing football, my dad told me that my helmet was going to be my best friend, so I should give it a name. I named it Buck. I can’t remember why. I’ve had a lot of helmets since then, and they’ve all been Buck.
My friends think it’s dumb, but I don’t care.
Buck’s main job is to protect my head, of course. High school football crowds can be loud, though—really loud—and thanks to Buck, it’s more like a low buzzing. It’s always there, but it’s far away.
I like it that way. It helps me think.
One of the things I love most about football is how much you have to think. Who does what, who goes wh ere, split-second decisions, when to run, when to pitch, when to hand off, when to throw, who to throw to, how to throw it, should I throw it high and soft, low and hard, which hole to hit, which blocker to run behind—that’s all stuff you have to think about on pretty much every play.
Everyone thinks football is just people smashing into other people, but it’s actually a lot more than that.
Although there is plenty of smashing.
At the end of the first quarter, we’re up 14–0. I throw a nineteen-yard pass to Ethan Metzger in the corner of the end zone for the first touchdown. On the second score, I get a great block from Kenny Coleman—an offensive lineman and the only other freshman on varsity—and I basically walk in from twelve yards out.
We huddle up on the sideline. I hear Coach Toffler talking, but I’m only half-listening. I know what to do. I have an instinct for the game that’s pretty foolproof. My dad calls it a sixth sense. The coaches know it and leave me alone. So yeah, I’m not really paying attention. Instead, I’m staring across the field, at the Meadow Ridge players.
I know what I’m looking for.
The sag.
That’s what my dad calls it. “The sag.” It’s when the players on the other team lose their confidence. Their shoulders drop, they run back to the huddle with less energy, their yells of encouragement to their teammates are a little less loud. My dad says there’s a moment in every game when one team sags. Sometimes it’s in the first quarter, sometimes it’s after the last play of the game. When you see it in the other team, you know you’ve got them—it’s “the final nail in the coffin,” as my coaches like to say. But when you see it in your own team, it’s up to you to straighten out your teammates. Because the sag is the difference between winning and losing. Between sleeping well and tossing and turning.
Between life and death.
“BRING IT IN!” hollers our captain, this really big dude named Ron Johnson. We huddle up—the whole team, all forty-eight of us.
Ron is screaming at the top of his lungs. “WE STILL GOT WORK TO DO! NO LETUP! THESE GUYS ARE TOUGH! WE NEED TO PUT THEM AWAY!”
While Ron is pumping us up, I’m still looking over at the Meadow Ridge sideline, trying to find the sag. I notice this one kid, number 72. Man, that dude is huge. I gotta make sure he doesn’t touch so much as a hair on my—
“SPRINGER! SPRINGER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?”
Ron is staring straight at me, which means the rest of the team is, too.
“Uh, yeah, nothing, Ron. Just thinking about the game.”
“Well, how about thinking about the TEAM, Mr. Greatest QB Ever! Circle it up with the REST OF US NOW!”
I do as I’m told, of course. Ron is the captain, he’s a senior, and he plays center, which means he’s in charge of protecting me. But the thing is, even though he’s a great high school player, Ron knows he’s not quite big enough for major college football, so when I came along with all the attention, it kind of got him pissed off. And he hasn’t stopped being pissed off about it since.
“Sorry about that, Ron,” I say. “Won’t happen again.”
Ron gives a satisfied grunt, then resumes his hollering. “LET’S KEEP THE PRESSURE ON! WILDCATS ON THREE! ONE, TWO, THREE . . .”
“WILDCATS!”
We take the field for the second quarter. It’s our ball, and we’re on the Meadow Ridge thirty-seven yard line and marching. Soon it’s gonna be 21–0 and I’m going to look for the sag again, and this time I bet I’ll find it.
Sports is all about confidence, right?
That’s another one of my dad’s favorite phrases. He says it all the time.
Sports is all about confidence. And you know what else is? Life. Life is all about confidence. Believing in yourself is half the battle. That’s just the way it is.
I’m thinking about that, and about how once we score this touchdown, Meadow Ridge is going to realize it’s the beginning of the end. I’m thinking about my dad and that smile he gives me after a good game, and the hug my mom is going to give me when she says what she always says after every game. Thank God you’re okay.
And I’m thinking about Nina, even though she’s not here. If I’m lucky, she’ll show up after the game ends. She can’t stand football. She calls it disgusting and barbaric, and thinks it should be illegal.
That’s one reason people find it so hard to believe we like each other.
But you know what? My hunch is that even though Nina says she hates football, and part of her definitely does, there’s another part of her that thinks it’s cool to be dating the hotshot quarterback.
She would never admit that, of course. Never in a million years.
I’m thinking about all that stuff—Nina, and my mom and dad, and waiting for the kids from Meadow Ridge to sag—instead of what I should be thinking about, which is the play we’re about to run.
I yell, “HUT!”
We’re running an option play, meaning I can either run the ball or pitch it to our tailback, Mitch Sellers. He’s wide open, and his hands are outstretched, waiting, but I lose my concentration for a fraction of a second, and I hesitate, and by the time I decide to pitch to him, he’s covered, so I have no choice but to keep the ball and turn upfield, and right as I shift my body, I see the giant kid, number 72, who’s pretty quick, and he’s bearing down on me, and I try to turn away, but I just end up swinging my head right toward his left shoulder pad, and I close my eyes and wait for the impact, and it comes, CRASH—no, more like CRASH!!!—and it feels like Buck crumples up like a Coke can, and I hear a ringing sound that gets louder and louder and then softer and softer . . .
WWHS
WALTHORNE HIGH SCHOOL RADIO
TRANSCRIPT OF PLAY-BY-PLAY
ALFIE JENKS AND JULIAN HESS
ALFIE:
Whoa! That was some hit! Caleb Springer decided to keep the ball on the option play and was met head-on by number 72 on Meadow Ridge, Jerrod Clemmons.
JULIAN:
Ouch! That looked like it hurt.
ALFIE:
I don’t know about that decision by Caleb there—he’s usually really smart about that kind of stuff.
JULIAN:
Yep, he looked like me in algebra class. Completely lost.
ALFIE:
Just a really hard hit, but Caleb is a tough kid and I’m sure he won’t make that mistake again.
JULIAN:
If he does, we’re going to need some superglue out here to stick his head back onto his shoulders.
ALFIE:
You’re using some very colorful phrases today, Julian.
JULIAN:
Thanks!
ALFIE:
Anyway, that brings up a third and two at the Meadow Ridge thirty-nine yard line . . .
. . . and I see those bright lights that you can see even when your eyes are shut really tight, and their reflections shoot through my head like I have eyes everywhere that follow the bright lights around, and I know I’m lying down even though I can’t really feel the ground, no, wait, I’m standing up, no, I was right the first time, I’m lying down, and the only thing I can hear is my breath, and I open my eyes and slowly noise comes back, then I see feet around me, and someone is bending over but I’m not sure who.
“Caleb?” It’s Kenny. “You good?”
“Yup,” I say. “Buck saved my ass.”
Kenny puts out his two hands, and I grab them and try to hop up. The hop is important, it shows you’re okay, you’re tough, you’re good to go. I feel myself wobble for a second, but Kenny steadies me so quickly, I don’t think anyone notices. I look over at the sidelines and give them a thumbs-up, then run back to the huddle. I’m not going to give anyone a chance to think about whether or not I should stay in the game.
I’m okay and that’s all there is to it.
