Read Online Gang Tackle by Eric Howling - Free Book Online Page A

“I learned my lesson.”
    “Then what is it?”
    “Beats me.” He shrugged.
    Carlos came flying out of an empty classroom. His eyes were wide. “I bet it has something to do with what I just saw. Look what’s in front of the school.”
    Carlos led Jamal, Darnell and his teammates to the window in the classroom. Parked outside was a truck with two words on its side that they had hoped to never see again. Fort Sports .
    Jamal watched three men with orange fort logos on their jackets carry large duffel bags to the back of the truck. This can’t be good . Jamal turned and headed to Principal Campbell’s office.
    “Have a seat, Jamal,” Principal Campbell said. She was sitting behind her big oak desk. Coach Kemp sat in one of two chairs in front of her.
    Jamal stood in the doorway. His brow was wrinkled with worry.
    “You can relax,” the principal said, motioning him in. “You’re not in trouble. In fact, I’d like to thank you for getting rid of Coach Fort. Taping a message on your uniforms was very clever.”
    “But we do have a problem,” Coach Kemp said.
    Jamal nodded.
    “Mr. Fort called me this morning,” Principal Campbell said. “He was madder than a hornet. He said he was taking his uniforms back.”
    Jamal had worried this might happen. “And the equipment?”
    “Everything,” Coach Kemp said. “Even the balls.”
    Jamal slumped in his chair. He had loved those uniforms. They’d made the Saints look like a real team. Every last player had been proud to pull on his jersey when they played.
    The principal eyed Jamal. “Since you’re the leader of the Saints, we wanted you to be the first to know.”
    “The team is going to have to use our old equipment,” Coach Kemp said.
    “It’s pretty beat up.” Jamal shook his head sadly. “The jerseys have rips in them. The pads are too small. The helmets are scratched and old. They’re not like the new ones from Fort Sports. They really protected our heads from hard hits. Someone might get hurt.”
    “We don’t have a choice,” Coach Kemp said. “If we want to stay in the league, the players have to wear something.”
    Jamal pursed his lips and let out a long sigh.
    “I asked the school board for extra money.” Principal Campbell lowered her chin, then shook her head. “But they said no.”
    “We look like a bunch of losers,” Jamal said. “The other teams are going to laugh us off the field.” He stood on the fifty-yard line with the other players, waiting for practice to start. They were all wearing their old Saints uniforms. Uniforms they thought they had left behind for good. Everyone was gawking at each other.
    Darnell’s shoulder pads were too small for his broad shoulders. “I look like a little kid.” He didn’t seem nearly as big and muscular as he really was.
    Rico’s jersey had a big hunk missing in front where some lineman had grabbed him the year before. “At least I have some built-in air-conditioning,” he joked, pointing at the gaping hole.
    Davey’s helmet was too tiny for his big head. “I squeezed it on, but I’m not sure I can ever take it off. I may have to wear it to class.”
    The rest of the uniforms were no better. They were battered and ripped, not much better than rags. Coach Kemp did his best to get the team ready for the next game against Don Mills, but the players just moped around. No one felt like running or catching or blocking or tackling. Losing the uniforms was a real drag. After winning the last game, the team had been sky high. Now they were down in the dirt.
    “The uniforms aren’t great, but they’re all we’ve got,” Coach Kemp said at the end of practice. “Unless any of you geniuses has a bright idea for coming up with twenty grand for new ones, we’ll be wearing these for the rest of the season.”
    Jamal stayed behind with Darnell. He was working on a new pattern and wanted Darnell to throw a few passes to him. Even though their uniforms sucked, they had to make the best of it.